Day 115, Chapter 115
I wish that there was a way for me to poll readers of the 117 Days ahead of time about where they think the Epilogue is heading – how you think this shitstorm is going to end. As of this morning, there are only nine pages left in my reading of The 9th Judgment – 3 chapters of 3 pages each – yet, as you will see, the drama has yet to fully unfold. Or is that melodrama?
I was dressed by the time Yuki and Miles arrived. Miles, that too-cute-for-words bartender, presented me with a bottle of wine, telling me about its special qualities. I barely heard him, but I’m pretty sure I thanked him. Yuki asked where Joe was, and I told her with my voice catching, my eyes watering up, that he had rushed off to Washington.
I turned away so she wouldn’t have to endure my disgraceful wet-eyed funk. So she followed me into the kitchen and helped me plate the olives and cheese. “What’s going on, Lindsay?” she asked me.
“Don’t look at me. It’s just that everything finally got to me. You know. Everything.”
“Don’t look at me showing my soft, vulnerable feminine side! It’s disgraceful!” Then Claire shows up with her husband, Edmund, and even now, JPatt can’t resist a plus-sized dig at her:
Claire surrounded me in a big hug and smothered me with flowers.
|The WMC Voltron (Ritchie is the head)|
At least it wasn’t “surrounded me with flowers and smothered me in a big hug.” Then the party really gets kickin’ and the Women’s Murder Club Voltron is once again complete when Ritchie Conklin and Cindy bust in. Apparently, this is the first time anyone has seen them as a couple, unless you count accidentally seeing them screwing in Conklin’s car in Chapter 24.
Rich said, “You want me to pick out some music, Linds?”
“Thanks. That would be great.”
Ritchie was digging through the CDs and I was pulling the ham out of the oven when the phones rang, each of them, one in all four rooms ringing together.
Let me get this straight: a call comes in on your home phone; you have multiple phones scattered throughout the house – let’s say four phones; because the call is coming in on one line and all four phones are connected to that line, they all ring simultaneously when the call arrives? That’s incredible! I don’t understand your strange technology. You world is strange and foreign to me.
“Are you getting the phone?” Claire asked me.
“Phones are no friends of mine.”
Yeah, screw the phones! They’re always ruining everything, especially nice dinner party scenes constructed by high school freshman English students. Maybe Maxine Paetro is a 14-year old – I never thought of that.
Lindsay answers her cell phone, which miraculously rings separately from the cacophonous four home phones. At first she thinks the call is Jacobi, who’s late to the party with his new “mystery date.”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“This is Commander John Jordan. I’m afraid there’s been an incident. I wanted to reach you before you heard it on the news.”
My mind skittered like a needle across an old-fashioned vinyl record.
Oh man, I knew you shouldn’t have answered that phone! What did I tell you? As Commander John Jordan talks in her ear, she sees news footage on the TV in the other room of “Charter Jet Downed in California,” complete with images of airplane wreckage and “a blooming column of black smoke.”
The commander was speaking to me, but I didn’t really hear his words. I already got it. Joe’s plane had gone down. They didn’t know what had happened, why it had blown up or simply crashed.
The lights faded to black, and I went down.
Down like a charter plane in the hills of California.
**Okay, only six frickin’ pages left! How’s it doing to end? Leave your thoughts in the comments.
Go to Day 116