Free Fine Spirits [Spirits 02] by Alice Duncan

us. It was too touchy a one, and I wasn't up to another fight with him. “You don't have to retire just because I'm dead-beat.”
           “I guess I'm ready.”
           “I'll push you to the bedroom.”
           Normally Billy didn't like people pushing his chair for him. The chair was one of those newfangled ones with wheels so big, the person sitting in it could propel himself around. But Billy didn't object when I occasionally pushed him on walks. That night he didn't object, either.
           We said good-night to Ma and Aunt Vi as we rolled through the kitchen to our bedroom, which was directly off the kitchen. Our bungalow had two nice, private rooms upstairs that would have been swell for a young married couple to live in. Since Billy couldn't climb the stairs, Aunt Vi used them.
           Pa had built us a sun porch, or deck, outside our bedroom, and on fine nights Billy and I would sit out there and chat or just watch the stars. On that bleak November night, it was too darned cold to go outdoors so I shut our bedroom door to get some privacy. I knew that Ma and Aunt Vi would take their tea into the living room because that's what they always did, out of consideration for Billy and me.
           I had lots of reasons to be thankful for my family. Ma and Pa and Aunt Vi were three of the best, most praiseworthy people in the universe. The three of them almost made up for the reasons I had to wonder why God had played Billy and me such a dirty trick.
           But that was nonsense. Even in my foul mood that night, I recognized nonsense when I thought it. I firmly believed then, and I still believe, that God endowed human beings with free will and the brains to use it wisely if they chose. Therefore, I don't really believe it was God's fault the wretched Kaiser had decided to use the gifts God had given him for a wicked purpose. It was our bum luck that Billy had been caught in the Kaiser's evil scheme. And if mustard gas isn't evil, I don't know what is.
           I helped Billy change into the pajamas I'd given him for his birthday the summer before. He hated night shirts, since they made him feel even less like a man than he already did. After changing into my nightgown, I climbed into bed after him. He snuggled close to me and wrapped me in his arms, and as much as I hate to admit it, I cried again. It had to be time for my monthly, because that was the only time I became at all emotional. Thank heaven, Billy didn't notice my tears.
    # # #
           It rained the next day. As I stared out our bedroom window at the water pelting down from the sky, I decided it was just as well. It was much easier to abide a filthy mood if the weather cooperated. Heck, if the sun had shone down upon our little place in the world that morning, I might have cheered up a little. That would never do.
           Every once in a while, I got to feeling cynical. That morning was one of those whiles.
           “At least the rain will keep Pa indoors,” I muttered to Billy as I hung up my nightgown and tried to decide what to wear. A crown of thorns seemed appropriate, but there wasn't one in any of my hat boxes.
           “I doubt it.” Billy was already dressed.
           For some reason, his being dressed encouraged me slightly. I entertained the perhaps-foolish hope that as long as he continued to get up and dress in a shirt, collar, tie, jacket, and trousers every day, all was not lost. I'd read about men who became so down in the dumps, they wore their night shirts and robes all day and all night, no matter what. While I knew there was no cure for Billy's ailments, as long as he cared enough about life to look as spiffy as he could, there might exist the chance of a mental recovery, if not a physical one.
           Also, the fact that he'd dressed before me that morning meant that his pain wasn't so bad that he'd had to struggle through the agony of moving his ruined