The Case-Book of Holloway Holmes by Gregory Ashe EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Gregory Ashe
- Language: English
- Genre: Fiction
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- Size: 2 MB
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Jack
Dad was throwing up again.
I squirmed into the bedding, squeezing my eyes shut. The sound continued
down the hall in the cottage’s only bathroom. Several long uh-uh-uh, and then
silence. Like he was holding his breath. The morning light laid a hand across
my face. After a moment, I burrowed under the pillow, into the dark.
Uh-uh-uh.
A low-grade headache prowled around the back of my skull—nothing like
the whammies Dad got, but the kind that meant I’d been stupid to cover the
night shift, stupid to stay up late watching the Stream Queens play Dead by
Daylight on Twitch, stupid to think I’d honestly have the morning off and
could sleep in.
Uh-uh-uh.
One, I thought. I threw the pillow across the room and kicked the sheet
and blanket to the foot of the bed. One morning to sleep in.
Rubbing my eyes, I went out to the hall. The cottage was small: two
bedrooms that were exactly the same size, i.e., about as big as my balls; an even
smaller bathroom; and a combined kitchen and living room where the TV
from our old house now took up a whole wall and sometimes the refrigerator
smelled like it was burning.
Dad was on his knees in the bathroom, leaning against the old pedestal
sink, his face the same color as the porcelain. Big drops of sweat covered his
forehead, and a trickle of saliva hung from the corner of his mouth. “Hey,
buddy. Go back to bed.”
“Did you take your medicine?”
He nodded. He looked wrung out. The year before—before the accident
—we’d biked Canyonlands, and at the end of every day, he’d wanted to stay up
and talk and look at the stars. Now, he was lucky to stay upright through the
morning. “Come on.”
“Mr. Taylor called.”
I got my hand under Dad’s arm. “Come on.”
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“Well, I’m up.”
Dad squeezed his eyes shut as I helped him to his feet. “Jack—”
“You’re supposed to lie down with an ice pack when they’re this bad.”
He probably would have said more, but he also looked like he wanted to
throw up some more, so it was one of those mutual self-destruction things. I
got him into his bedroom and pulled the thin, sun-bleached curtains closed.
They’d been printed with what had probably been wildflowers at some point.
On the other side of them, the whole world became a flat, bright gray. I got
him an icepack. I got him a glass of water.
“I just need fifteen minutes,” Dad said, but he was squeezing his eyes shut
again. “For the meds to kick in.”
“What’d Mr. Taylor want?”
“Jack, I can do it.”
“Ok, well, what did he say?”
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