9
He was walking around the room on his cast, going thump, drag, thump. He paused every now and then and took a swig from the bottle of wine he gripped in his right hand. It was very expensive wine for a very sorry occasion, he thought. Lu was curled up on the built-in sofa. She 1ooked too angry to be asleep. Poor thing, he thought. No place to go. This is no place to go. Procul Harum was playing on the very expensive stereo. There was nothing else left in the room except a case of records and a pile of blankets.
―To life!‖ he said loudly, raising the glass. She curled into a ball and the flung herself into a sitting position and held out her hand for the glass he offered her. ―The river next,‖
he said, slurring slightly. ―It‘s the greatest disaster in the history of the world.‖ She lay down again. He took the top blanket from the pile and spread it over her. She closed her eyes, "Nap," she said, "no." "Don't.‖ He held up the bottle. "Drink to life," he said loudly.
"To life. It goes on." "Where will we be when we go out that door?‖ she asked. She was a little drunk now. "Not together," he said, "You'll leave first. We won't go together. Not now. It's the end." "The end of a perfect nightmare," she said, half sobbing. He wanted to get down on his knees to her, but there was the cast. He sat down beside her and touched her shoulder. "Never you mind, Lu,‖ he said. "It was rotten. It was all my fault, Lu. Never you mind.‖ Procul Harum began singing "A Whiter Shade of Pale". All his depression lifted. He raised his head to the bare wall. "Isn't it wonderful?" he said.