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Show 74 gathering. Dear mother, he thinks, whose love does not stop. He closes the wallet. He takes out the letters, thinks better of it, puts them back. He closes the catch of the purse, softly, so that it does not awaken her. He sits for a moment in the chair, watching her regular, rhythmic breathing, and then, equally quietly, he opens the purse again. He reaches into it for the letters. They protrude from a small side pocket of the cavernous purse, but as he removes the letters he notices something he had not seen before: at the bottom of the pocket is a small, soft, dark object. He takes it out, sees that it is a coinpurse, apparently full but not heavy. He opens it. His eyes travel instantly to the pharmacist's bottle on the dresser, back to the coinpouch: it is filled with capsules, just like those that are in the bottle. He sits absolutely rigid for a moment, his hand clasped tightly around the purse. Dear, sweet mother, he thinks, but then he sees: Rod is also pausing at the door. Evan's hand freezes. Rod wanders casually in the door; Evan knows he must close the pouch stuff it back in the purse display embarassment as if he'd been reading the letters, but he does not, and soon Rod is standing over him, looking down into the purse. He lifts Evan's hand and the pouch it is still clutching out of the purse, opens the pouch. He lets out a single yell that brings everyone running: John, the frightened wife from the kitchen, the still more frightened children, and he pours the pills out onto the dresser. "Two," he counts, "four, six, eight. . Annis leaps from her sleep, struggling to understand. "Ten, twelve, fourteen ..." |