This is an excerpt from a recently written chapter simply called, “Walter Palmer.” This is from a first draft version, so it may change several times before the finished release.
Here is that chapter.
20- Walter Palmer
Walter Palmer was having a difficult time sleeping. He turned on his side and half-closed his eyes and tried to see his sweet Imogene next to him. Sixty-six years of marriage was a long time; a lifetime, if you think about it. He could see the small lump of bedding next to him and listened for the most comforting sound that he knew–the sound of her breathing. He thought he heard it, and his heart relaxed a little.
The moon was full on that late Saturday night. He normally went to bed at nine-thirty, but because of a house party across the street, he wasn’t able to nod off until nearly ten-thirty. Then because of laughing or something along those lines, he had woken up with a start. When he glanced at his old cream and gold wind-up alarm clock with a glow-in-the-dark face that he had picked up in Düsseldorf, Germany back in 1953 with Imogene. It read 12:33.
Now, here he was a half an hour later and trying to fall back asleep. The moon was full and its rays shined through the window and illuminated his bed. He tried to keep his eyes half-closed to see his wife next to him. He reached over expecting to feel her cream-colored silk nightgown, but instead felt a cold pillow that he had placed under the covers to trick his mind into believing that his dear Imogene was still next to him. He had been doing it every night for the past twenty-one days since she passed in that exact spot from a heart attack during the night. The last words that he heard from her were, “Good night my love. See you in the morning.”
She had been gone when he woke up the following morning. A crushing sorrow filled his chest and he slowly flipped over on his back and let the tears silently fall from his wrinkled and tired eyes. He stared into the darkness and a million thoughts of Imogene ran across his mind.
Several laughs from the house party caught on the wind and carried across the street and through his half-cracked window. The noise pulled him from his thoughts and he grumbled, “Stupid kids!”
He glanced over at his white cordless phone on the bed stand and seriously contemplated calling the police to complain. A flash of irritation welled up inside his chest remembering the last time that he had called the police to complain. They had not taken him seriously. In fact, he could tell that the 911 operator had even seemed put out that he was complaining yet again about those, “Good fer nothing kids, and their disrespect of the elderly living on the street.”
He had been infuriated to hear that smug operator say, “Mr. Palmer. Those kids have a right to have their party until ten o’clock. As long as they are obeying the laws–”
“What kind of laws allow kids to blast enough noise to make a man go deaf!” he said
“Mr. Palmer. The police have been there twice and everything appears in order.” she said
The operator had said this with a hint of impatience in her voice. He had been so angry that he had slammed down the phone onto the receiver and severely bent the silver antenna sticking out of the top. It still worked, but probably would need to be replaced soon. That was one more thing to do. He had also used a swear word that had Imogene still been alive would have rebuked him for saying. True, at promptly 10 o’clock the music was either turned-off or turned so low that he couldn’t hear it, but so many people were still there that their laughs sounded like a comedy show.
Walter sat up and felt his bones creak and groan. 84 years-old was not young anymore, and at that moment, he felt 180 years old. He struggled to stand and as he got to his feet, the room swam, and he reached out to the bedpost to keep from falling back onto the bed. Whomever had said that growing old was like a fine wine, had probably been drunk or young when they had come up with that stupid phrase. Growing old sucked. Age was not some friend, but more like an inescapable enemy and an unfortunate reality.
He dragged his feet to the half-open window to shut the infernal thing with the idea that maybe with it shut then he would finally be able to get some blessed shut-eye and tune-out this godforsaken world. His godforsaken world. No. His Imogene-less world. At least she was there in his dreams, and that was exactly where he wanted to be.
The sliding window made a grating noise and a click when it locked into place. Something off in the distance at the house where the party was going on caught his eye. On the back side of the house, where it was the darkest, and out of view from the rest of the party; someone dressed in black climbed out the second story window. What made it weird wasn’t just the fact that there was someone climbing out of the window, it was the fact that the room had its lights turned off and it was pretty plain to the eye even from this distance that this person didn’t want to be seen. The person climbed out and then inched along a vine-covered trellis until he got to a wooden slat fence where he got his footing and then hopped to the front-yard where he immediately went to the bushes. Then a few houses down, Walter saw a boy emerge from the bushes sans mask. A boy with long brown hair that quickly crossed the street, and walked in front of his house, and then out of view.
Walter stood there for sometime staring towards that window where he saw the boy come out of. Something didn’t ring right with this. He felt his skin tingle, and the white hairs on the back of his arms stood up because of the gooseflesh that had erupted in a wave from the top of his head to the ends of his toes. He lowered the blinds, and shut them tight so that his room was enveloped in total darkness.
