Asylum Lake R. A. Evans

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.Frank and Maddie Griggs, the closest thing his family had to neighbors on the lake, lived four miles away.Brady’s father and Frank had been friends since childhood, and Maddie and mom had been as close as sisters.Since his father’s death, the Griggs's had kept in touch with Brady through an occasional card or phone call to let him know they were, as Frank put it, ‘keeping an eye on things.’ Brady had always pledged to visit the next weekend or the next month, but time flew by and the seasons changed.The surprise in Frank’s voice was unmistakable when Brady phoned him to say, "If you see the lights on this weekend, don’t come in swinging your golf club, it’ll just be me." They shared a laugh, followed by an uncomfortable silence, before Frank promised to have things in order for when Brady arrived.Having made good on his pledge to return, Brady felt as if somehow, his mission had been accomplished.As if now, he could turn tail and drive back to Chicago as fast as his Jetta could go.Then he noticed something.The blinds were drawn, providing just enough light to see a note taped to the wall by the switch.Brady reached for the note as he flipped on the light.Brady,Maddie ran a dust cloth around the place and I made sure the plumbing was kosher.Everything else seems to be in order.There’s a pie and some groceries in the fridge – just enough to welcome you back.We’ll be up north this weekend enjoying the view from the island - we'll call when we get back.FrankBrady smiled; Michiganders always go north to get away from it all, even those already living in the northern-most parts of the state.The Griggs, year-rounder’s on nearby Bass Lake, were no exception.Mackinaw Island, located midway between the state’s Upper and Lower Peninsulas, had been their favorite vacation place for years.Padding into the house, Gruff brushed past Brady, stirring him from his thoughts.Brady's gaze rose from the note.Opening that door had been like breaking the seal on a time capsule.Brady’s life had moved on, yet inside these all-too-familiar walls, it was 1995 all over again.Brady scanned the den.Trophies and photos lined the shelves and walls, each capturing a moment in time, freezing it for display.His eyes retraced the years of his life, from diapers and toothless smiles to kindergarten graduation, Little League, family vacations and…braces.God, how I hated those braces, he mused.Brady had spent the better part of two years not smiling because of those damn braces, convinced that he looked like James Bond's steel-toothed, arch-nemesis Jaws.To this day he turned the channel in disgust any time a Bond movie came on TV.A loud clatter, issued simultaneously with a sharp bark and low growl summoned Brady from his musings and sent him sprinting down the hall and through the kitchen to the source of the commotion.The shadows gave way to light as the afternoon sun poured itself in through the massive windows overlooking the lake.Gruff with hackles raised and tail lowered, stood in the center of the room staring at the coffee table.Scrabble pieces were spread across its surface while others lay scattered on the floor.“It’s okay, boy,” Brady said leaning down to soothe the dog with a scratch behind its ears.“That tail of yours just swept ‘em right off the table.” Chuckling, he continued “We’d solve the world’s energy problems if we could harness the power of that wag.” Brady stretched out his hand and picked the pieces up from the floor and tossed them on the table.Scrabble had been a Tanner family tradition.Instead of church on Sunday mornings, it had been dad’s chocolate-chip pancakes followed by a heated game of Scrabble.The game had remained a coffee table fixture both here, at the Up North House, as well as at their home in Grand Rapids.While Brady and his father had spent countless hours debating the rules surrounding the usage of slang and proper names, mom used her background as a nurse for an endless supply of medical terminology that proved insurmountable to the Tanner men.Brady could count on one hand the number of times either of them had beaten her at a game of Scrabble.The memory lifted Brady’s spirits as his focus drifted to the board, a bit surprised that Dad hadn’t packed it away.Why would he keep it out after Mom was gone? Then, from among the tile pieces scattered across the tabletop, five squares stared up at Brady.Starting from the center square and traveling downward was a single, perfectly-placed word:The blood drained from Brady’s face, as a strange yet familiar sensation crept over him.Gruff’s rumbling growl returned.In an instant his mind leapt from one possibility to the next.The tiles in the middle of the board would be the least likely to get disturbed when bumped.Simple physics, right? Or maybe dad had started a game and never finished it, but with whom? No, Maddie probably set the pieces there when she was dusting, it would be like her clever way of welcoming me back.“Please allow me to introduce myself.I’m a man of wealth and taste,” The Rolling Stones lyric erupted from out of nowhere, causing him to jump with a girlish squeal.The tension broken, Brady fished his i-Phone from his pocket.Sympathy for the Devil was the ring-tone he had assigned to his in-laws.He was far more impressed with the selection than Karen had been and promised to change it out for something less dramatic, but…“Ooh, Ooh -- hope you guess my name,” the song continued.Only because you saved us from this B horror movie Gruff and I were trapped in do I answer this.He thought to the phone, as he reluctantly pressed the button to accept the call.“Hello,” he answered, his voice containing more contempt than he intended to reveal.“Brady, Thomas Greene, Karen’s father.I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?” His tenor clearly implied that he could care less if Brady was performing brain surgery.There was a message to be delivered and deliver it this moment he would.“No, Tom,” Brady replied emphasizing the name.He imagined steam pouring from his father-in-law's ears.He was ‘Thomas’; he had told Brady the first time they had met, which had been shaking hands across a crowded Thanksgiving table packed with Karen’s relatives.“Thomas Greene,” was the introduction.Both the words and the handshake were cold and brief.“Welcome to our table.”“Thanks for inviting me, Tom,” Brady replied, a lopsided grin sealing his fate.Karen had warned him about her father.But like watching a movie despite its negative reviews, Brady had refused to believe all that Karen had warned about her father.Determined to sit through scene after awkward scene, Brady would undoubtedly learn the long and hard way.“It’s Thomas, Mr.Tanner,” was the curt reply.Then in a sudden move the man straightened his posture nearly to the point of snapping his spine, and then he continued, “As my father and his father before him were named.Not Tom.A Tom is a cat of some sort I believe,” he had smirked darkly.Soft snickers from around the table trailed the remark.The home crowd, if you will, was a receptive one.Brady's face reddened as Karen’s father had looked down his long nose at him.“Or a turkey,” Brady said, his tongue outpacing his brain.He averted his eyes and looked at the enormous bird gracing the center of the table, packed with stuffing.The silence that followed was deafening and seemed to last forever.From the far end of the table however, laughter broke, conquering the tension.“Cheers, Brady.Come, sit here by me.Fill your plate and your glass.It’s Thanksgiving for heaven’s sake [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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