The Maine Events by Rodney Riesel (most important books of all time txt) 📕

surprisedly. “Mildred must have readthem more than once then. Say, how come they don't make a movie?”

“They must be crazy,” Allen joked.

Cam laughed. “Yeah, they must be.”

The two men turned back toward the sea and quietly absorbedits mammoth beauty. The next time Allen looked down, the water had risen to thefourth step in the seawall. He picked up his glass and sipped. He watched as aseagull dove into the water and resurfaced with a tiny fish in its bill. A podof five pelicans soared past only inches above the water, looking asprehistoric as any pterodactyl Allen had ever seen in a museum or a movie.

Allen glanced over at Cam a few times without turning hishead. At one point it looked as though the old guy had fallen asleep.

What if he topples over and rolls down the concrete stepsinto the water? Allen thought. Should I say something to wake him? Wouldthat scare him and cause him to fall in? Should I quietly get up and hurry backto my room, so I'm not here to witness the old guy's death?

Finally, Cam let out a snort, waking himself. For a secondit looked like he had no idea where he was. He sat up straight and lookedaround.

“How long was I out?” Cam asked.

“Not long,” Allen replied. “I was a little nervous.”

“Yeah, Mildred gets nervous too when I doze off. I've toldher a hundred times, 'These vehicles nowadays practically drive themselves.”

Allen laughed.

“You can use that line in one of your books,” Cam said.

“I just might do that,” Allen responded. He picked up hisglass and downed the rest. “Maybe I'll run into you again out here.” He climbedto his feet.

“Maybe you will.”

“Don't fall asleep.”

“I ain't promisin' anything.”

By the time Allen walked back across the parking lot, Jacoband his friend were gone. He was almost to the office door when the door toroom four opened. Jacob's mom stuck her head out and looked around.

“He was out here a minute ago,” Allen said, pointing at thepicnic table. “Him and some other kid.”

“Thanks,” said the woman. “If you happen to see him again,tell him I'm looking for him.”

“I'll do that.”

She pulled her head back and shut the door. Allen lifted hisglass to his lips before remembering he'd already emptied it. He looked aroundto make sure no one had witnessed the faux pas. A dark haired man sat on one ofthe chairs outside of room two. He was sipping a glass of red wine. He wore atan cardigan and deck shoes with no socks. His legs were crossed. He hadn'tnoticed Allen until Allen noticed him.

“Well, hello there, Blue Eyes,” said the man.

Flattered, Allen puffed out his chest. “No one ever calledme that before.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe. Last time I saw eyes thatblue, they were on Paul Newman. Now that was a good-looking man.” His eyestraveled up and down Allen's body. “You're not so bad either.”

“Uh … thanks. I think.”

“Looks like your glass is empty, Blue Eyes,” said the man.

He looked back into the glass. “Yeah, someone needs toinvent the bottomless glass.”

“Wouldn't everything just fall right through?”

“What?”

“If the glass was bottomless.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess it would.”

Allen turned his back to the man and pulled open the officedoor.

“Mmm-mmm, you're definitely not bottomless,” said the man.

Allen looked over his shoulder. The guy was grinning slyly.He winked.

“Um, okay,” Allen responded, and ascended the stairs to thesecond level.

When Allen opened his door, Frankie was on the floor betweenthe bed and the sofa. He lifted his head and climbed to his feet.

“What's going on, dog?” Allen asked. He pushed the doorclosed. “I think the guy downstairs just hit on me.” He walked to the sink andrefilled his glass. “I wish it was the brunette in room four, but I think sheprobably has a husband. I haven't seen a husband, but she's got two kids. She'sreally pretty. Long brown hair with a few of those light streaks in it. What dothey call those? Highlights.” He moved to the table and stared at his laptopscreen. “Would it hurt you to write a little of this for me when I'm out?”

Allen sat on the bed with his back against the headboard andgrabbed the remote control off the nightstand. He switched on the televisionand surfed through the stations. He settled on the fourth season opener of TheBig Bang Theory. It was the one where Howard builds a robotic hand topleasure himself, and it gets stuck grasping his willie. Geeks are funny,Allen chuckled. And clever. Who couldn't use a robotic hand every now andthen?

Over the next four hours Allen polished off the bottle ofrum. At some point during the evening he had carried the bottle of tequila fromthe sink to the nightstand. He didn't open the bottle. He didn't even rememberputting it there.

The last thing Allen remembered thinking before he passedout was: I wonder how far someone usually swims out into the ocean beforedrowning? On television you see the person walk into the water and then it cutsto a commercial. When the show returns, the cops are looking down at the bodyon the sand. How far did they swim?

Chapter Three

At nine thirty on Monday morning Allen was awakened by apounding. He opened his eyes and stared at the base of the toilet. The poundingquickly became two poundings—one on the door, and the other in Allen's head. Heturned his head so his forehead was flat on the cool tile. It felt good, butnot good enough.

Who packs two bottles of booze but no aspirin? hewondered. That would be me.

Allen got to his knees during the second knock on the doorand crawled into the bedroom. He paused in front of the picture window,realizing he'd never closed the curtains. The motel manager started to walkaway but then noticed Allen through the window, on all fours. She cocked herhead quizzically.

Allen lifted his arm and gave the manager a wave. She wavedback. Allen crawled pathetically to the door on his hands and knees and openedit.

“Are you okay, Mr. Crane?” asked the woman. “Did you losesomething?”

“Just my dignity.”

“What