Page 21 of Creature
Anger flashed across Harry’s face, and Johnbraced himself for a punch. But then Harry sighed and rubbed hisown chin. “I lied to you.”
“About what?”
“You asked me if you weregood… before. And I said yeah.”
“I wasn’t?” John wasgrateful he had the strength to keep his voice steady.
“I don’t know. I have noidea who the hell you were before you… before you died. You couldabeen a mobster for all I know. A murderer. Maybe you deserveeverything they done to you.”
Although John swayed on his knees, he didn’tfall. And he didn’t pull his gaze away from Harry. “Maybe I do,” hewhispered. “But I doubt you deserve whatever your father did toyou.”
Harry paled and blinked his eyes rapidly.Then, moving slowly like a very old man, he stood. “Going to bed,”he muttered. He shuffled away, the bottle still in his hand.
***
“Why the hell did yousleep on the floor?”
John tried to scramble away from the angryvoice but was trapped against the couch. He curled into a ballinstead. When no blows fell, he hazarded a peek; Harry was crouchednext to him with a furrowed brow.
“I’m not going to hurtyou,” Harry said quietly. “And I can barely move withoutpuking.”
“Oh. I’msorry.”
“My own damn fault, isn’tit? But why did you sleep on the floor? Couldn’t have been realcomfortable.”
“It’s better than thecell,” John said, patting the rug.
“Yeah, okay, but wouldn’tthe couch be better yet? Or the bed?”
“You didn’t tell me whereto sleep.”
With a low groan, Harry collapsed onto hisass. “I’m no good at this. I can barely take care of myself, letalone anyone else.”
John uncurled and sat with his back to thecouch. Despite sleeping on a hard surface, he felt better than theprevious day. Stronger. More substantial. “Maybe I should askquestions when I’m unsure what you want of me.”
“That is a capital idea.I’m not smart, John. I’m not gonna figure things out on my own.”With another groan, louder this time, Harry got to his feet. “Ineed coffee. Maybe some toast.” Mumbling to himself, he shambledfrom the room.
While John sat on thecouch, reading the previous day’s newspaper, Harry rattled aroundthe kitchen, then spent some time in the bathroom taking ashower.This sounds likehome, John thought, although he had no wayof knowing the truth of that. He wondered if he’d lived like thisbefore—when hedidlive. Perhaps he used to sit with the paper during a quietmorning, catching up on news and sports, maybe exchangingconversation with whoever was in the next room eating breakfast andwashing dishes.
Had he once loved someone? And God, hadsomeone loved him?
John sat by the front window and peered outthrough the lace curtains. Their street was a quiet one. Cars droveby occasionally, all of them strangely shaped to his eyes. A stoutwoman emerged from the house across the street and stood on herwide front porch to beat a small rug with a broom. A younger womanwalked up the sidewalk pushing a baby carriage, a little girlskipping beside her. A mailman with a heavy-looking bag marched bybut didn’t stop at their house. The door to the attached unit shutloudly enough for John to hear; a handsome blond man emerged, gotinto a car, and drove away.
Such ordinary people doing ordinary things.What would they think if they knew a monster was watching them?What would they do?
He felt extraordinarily fortunate to begranted this glimpse of their lives.
When Harry eventually returned to the livingroom, his greenish pallor had been replaced by his usual healthyskin tone, and he had a pillow crease on his cheek. “Let me seeyour feet.”
An odd request, but John held them upobediently and watched as Harry measured one of his own stockingfeet against John’s bare one. “All right. Yours are just a littlebigger.” Then Harry sat in an armchair to put on his shoes. “I’mgoing to run errands. Need anything?”
“I already have somuch.”
Harry looked surprised and then smiled.“Yeah. I should remember how good I have it too.”
***
Within two hours Harry returned, grinning,and set a large bag on the floor. “Be right back.” He duckedoutside and reentered the house with a box.
