On the Edge of Twilight: 22 Tales to Follow You Home by Gregory Miller Read Free Book Online

five oil paintings in four days. That he hadn’t had more than four hours’ sleep a night in the past week but felt great. Five paintings in four days? Man, that’s output, especially on top of classes and everything else. And he said they were big canvases! That they were still drying but would set soon. He also claimed to be churning out charcoal sketches, and that Lucy never seemed to get tired of posing. That she was the perfect subject. Then he went on about all the great conversations they had, and how much they had in common, although he never mentioned what her major was, or even if she was in college. It was kind of funny, because, you know, I’d ask questions about her, and he said he didn’t know the answers, as if that was completely natural. He said he didn’t care.
    Man, he even said he cooked for her, which I can hardly imagine, since Saul couldn’t boil water without burning it. He went on about how close they were getting, and how he was hoping their relationship would turn into something bigger. Something even closer. He nudged me when he said that. God.
    So I ended up listening to him instead of complaining about my week, and drinking more ‘cause I wasn’t doing most of the talking. I called it an early night, I guess since I was in kind of a bad mood and wasn’t finding room to vent. Saul said he’d call me the following week about getting together again on Halloween. Yeah, today. I would have been with him at The Easy right now, at the costume party they have every year.
    Saul called on Monday night. He said he’d finished another oil and was coming down the home stretch on plans for a few more. It was amazing. Those paintings can take weeks , especially the way Saul had always worked. He was still in a fine mood, although he sounded tired. Even so, since I was a bit perkier we chatted for a long time. He actually let me do most of the talking, so I went on and on about my workload, my Master’s project, and stuff like that. We only touched on Lucy once, when he said she was coming over to see him again the next day, and he was going to try to “step up the pace with her,” as he put it. I wished him luck. I truly hoped the relationship would move to the next level. He deserved some happiness, some contentment. And then we hung up. End of conversation.
    Could I have another cigarette? Thanks. Sorry to bum, but I’ve really got a craving. Thought I was going to quit, but I guess not. Not for a while, anyway. I’ll take the addiction for a bit longer. I think I’m going to need it.
    Hmm? Last night. Do we have to talk about it right now? Can’t I get something to eat? Fine, then. Yeah, I understand. It’s just that it’s been a bit of a… yeah.
    Last night Saul called again, and this time, God, there was something wrong. I’d never heard him so upset.
    “I pushed her away!” he said. “She’s gone!”
    “What happened?” I asked. “Why did she leave?”
    Saul said, “I don’t know, I put my arm around her, kissed her, and she kissed me back, was really getting into it, but then she just went cold— so cold—and she pulled away. I asked what I’d done, but she wouldn’t talk about it. She just stood up, got her coat, and made for the damn door.”
    “She didn’t say anything at all?” I asked. “No explanation?”
    “She said she couldn’t do it!” Saul said. “Said she didn’t feel right about the whole thing and had to go. And that’s all. That’s all! I can’t believe it. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
    “I’m sure that’s true.” And even if he had, I knew he sure hadn’t meant to.
    “No, no, I must have done something ,” he insisted. “I did something, and I drove her away, and now she might never come back. I couldn’t handle that. I really couldn’t.”
    And I said, “Well, maybe you could buy roses, stop by her house, see if you can talk it out together. Who knows what she’s thinking? But if there’s a connection, you need to go after