Nursing a Grudge: An Earl Walker Mystery

Chapter 23

Earl was glad to be alone. At least that’s what he told himself. He pretended to treasure his alone time. When he was in the halls just to get out of the apartment, he avoided as much contact as he could. The residents who passed him were busy with their moving. They had places to go, things to do. Earl was glad to be rid of them.

As far as he was concerned, the fewer people still at Candlewick, the fewer chances of further complications.

When Earl rolled by the library, the place was almost empty. A sign on the door said all the books were for sale. Earl thought about looking through what was left of the collection but decided he didn’t need to start picking up any more junk. When your home is being closed down, the last thing you should do is accumulate more junk.

Anytime Earl decided it was time to go outside for some air, he was glad to do it himself. It was his choice, what he wanted to do. He didn’t need someone lecturing him about vitamin D or fresh air or any of that.

He wheeled himself through the common garden. He wandered, so to speak. Eventually he found himself at the parking lot. Residents and their helpers, families, and friends were loading up cars, trucks, and trailers with clothing, knickknacks, and everything. Something about the whole process was depressing.

At his apartment, Earl tried to get back to his normal life. In the mornings he washed his face. Brushed his teeth. Picked out his clothes. All the usual routines.

He was glad to do it all alone. Himself. He didn’t need anyone to help him.

He got his own bowl of cereal. Got his own juice. Sat at the table and ate his breakfast. Alone. In peace.

After a few spoonfuls, Earl wheeled for the coffee table. He grabbed one of the photos of Barbara and brought it back to the breakfast table. He ate the rest of his breakfast looking into her eyes.

Afterward he settled in front of the TV. He flipped around the channels awhile—courtroom show, infomercial, cooking show, click, click, click. His heart just wasn’t in it. Where was a good wrestling match when you needed it?

After a while, he just left it on. It didn’t matter what it was. Just moving pictures and sound, something to break the silence. He started looking for something to read. On the coffee table were the materials College had left when he threw her out. Sitting next to the pile was her Bible.

When he kicked her out, he should have thrown it all out with her. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to read any of these things now.

Earl looked around for something else, anything else, to read. He flipped through the television listings. When he was done with that, he went for the Candlewick Retirement Community newsletter. He couldn’t get a newspaper—they had stopped stocking the machine.

He went through his books. No matter what he tried to read, he just couldn’t focus. The television made too much noise, but the chatter comforted him.

After a while, he just needed to get out. First he wheeled himself toward the cafeteria. The whole trip he avoided eye contact with any passing residents. Of course, more and more of them were leaving Candlewick forever. They had their lives to live. And Earl would likely, hopefully never see them again. No point getting friendly now.

The cafeteria was emptier than he expected. Of course, fewer people were using it now. There was barely a line.

Earl got up to the counter. He was looking inside the glass case when he heard a disapproving voice. “Feeling better today, sir?”

He looked up. It was the cafeteria worker from before, when Gloria had made something of a scene. “Oh. Um. Hello. I guess. How are you?”

The woman chewed her gum loudly. “Tell me, what happened to your friend?”