Our First Proper Encounter

Fuck, I just sat there with a blank expression on my face. I mean there wasn’t anything physically wrong with Melissa, but I don’t even want to think about the vapid comment. Then the lawyer cleared his throat, “So Mr. Collins unless you have something else you want, I can tell you that concluded our dealing with Mr. Caruthers about his will and testament!”

“I don’t suppose I can get a copy of that video could I?”

Then the lawyer opened a desk drawer and presented me with a cover in a dust sleeve. While still in a daze, I shook the lawyer’s hand after signing that I had been presented my part of the will. Then on autopilot I left their office and made my way to the street. Coming out I saw directly across the street a small drinking establishment that was flashing an open sign. Just what I thought that I needed, a good still drink while I thought about what I was going to do about Melissa Walton.

Watching for a break in traffic, I made it inside the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks. For over an hour I nursed the drink, until I came to the decision that I should go home. A check of the beer label clock on the wall showed me that it was a little two thirty so I left with no plans on how I was going to get home.

So as I digested the Scotch on an empty stomach, I walked like a robot with only one thing on his programming. Three hours later I was dead beat as I turned onto my street. Suddenly I saw the gates to Walter’s old place were standing open, in the driveway there was the pick-up. The front door was opened, only a screen door blocked someone from going in.

Then both times I almost got hit by the pick-up, and got riled up as I remember the lawyer saying that to his knowledge no one was supposed to be living there. Pulling my waistline a little higher up, I went into the gates and made my way to the screen door. I knocked on the side of the frame and called out, “Anyone home?”

From inside came a velvety voice, “Come on in, it’s unlocked!”

I went in and swore that I saw Walter sitting on the couch with a bottle of beer in his hand as he swore at the game show on the TV. I blinked my memories away as I called out once more.

“I’m from next door and someone owes me an apology!’ A slight pause then, “No, make that two apologies for nearly running me over when they backed out yesterday and this morning!”

From somewhere in the back came, “Oh god that would be me. I’m sorry but I haven’t got the hang of driving a pick-up yet!”