Free Loss, a paranormal thriller by Glen Krisch Page B

house from my car.  To keep an eye on things."
    "What?"  Angie's throat began to tighten, choking off her air.  She needed Nathan gone, away from her.  Now.  She got up from the couch, Bizzy still sleeping soundly in her arms, and grabbed Nathan's coat from the back of the recliner and tossed it on his lap.
    "Listen, let me explain--"
    "No, you've explained enough."
    "Angie, please!"
    "You need to leave.  And I don't want you coming over anymore.  I'm fine.  You don't need to look after me."
    Nathan reluctantly shrugged on his coat.  He looked like a scolded child, which if he had been honest about his intentions for basically stalking Angie, was the last thing he wanted.  He reached for the doorknob, but stopped and turned to face her again.  A hard edge had come over his eyes.  It made him look older, capable of anything.
    "Angie... the reason I came over.  It wasn't dumb luck."
    "What do you mean?"
    "I heard Mom talking to Fletcher.  She was telling him about how you had called in to the office thinking you were talking to Stephanie.  I just wanted to come over, to you know, make sure you're okay.  I know how Mom can be."
    "I'm fine, Nathan.  Stop worrying about me.  You have your whole life ahead of you; don't go pissing it away by pining after me."
    "I just... I... never mind."  Without another word, Nathan opened the door and left in a hurry.
    Angie felt unnerved and uncertain and could think of only one thing to level her mood.  A sweet and sour taste flooded her mouth.  She had a new wine bottle in hand even as Nathan pulled away in his Volkswagen.
     
     
     
    Chapter 9
    Angie started to wonder if she had caused permanent damage to her liver from her wine and pill consumption.  Her energy lagged throughout much of her intoxicated days, but what troubled her even more was the pain in her lower abdomen whenever her buzz began to wane.  Pain radiated from her hips to her lower back.  She learned, as February became March and green shoots began to sprout from the forested understory walling her off from the rest of the world, that as long as she kept a therapeutic buzz going she could ignore just about anything.
    While her constant buzz helped deaden reality, it also took a toll on her memories.  And her happy memories seemed to take the brunt of the damage.  Even surrounded by every nuance of Paul's life, his image was becoming harder to recall.  The once indelible edges of her memories had begun to erode, and in some places, only the underlying emotions remained.  Her Sunday mornings in front of a roaring fire with hot pastries, hazelnut coffee, and Paul in her arms, had diminished to a fond comfort, like a well-loved sweater during a long winter gale.  
    No one visited anymore.  Lindsey, who had once been the closest thing to a sister in her life, had distanced herself since Angie's phone conversation with Imogene.  Angie often wondered how Lindsey was handling her latest pregnancy, but she knew their phone conversation would be strained when it should be anything but.  And she didn't dare try to call the office to speak with Stephanie, even just to ask her about her day or to inquire about her kids.  Not without knowing who might answer the phone. 
    And then there was Nathan... 
    "What are you, a puppy dog or a monster?" she said to the empty space of the great room.  She could see Nathan, with his shaggy beard and big mop of hair, sitting on the floor, batting his foot against his chin as if he had fleas.  A brief burst of laughter escaped her, and it was an unsettling sound.
    With a quilt draped over her shoulders, she peeled herself up from the couch, her sides aching with the movement, before she once again split the front curtain with an index finger to check the driveway.  Empty.  Again.  She hadn't seen or heard from Nathan since he visited a week or more prior.  Time had become a flighty thing, hard to pin down, and nonsensical even when brought to the fore.
    Angie