Read I Loved You Wednesday for Free Online Page B

I just love the country!”
    Glowing, she turns and heads back to the fireplace, continuing her barrage of charm on the unsuspecting skier. Poor rural fool’s so behind the times, though, he appears to be working on her even harder than she is on him.
    A few minutes pass before the door opens, and in walks A1 Wright, which probably doesn’t mean much to you, but he just happens to be Hank’s best friend. And Hank, you will remember, just happens to be the guy over whom Chris tried to kill herself.
    Chris takes one look at Hank’s best friend, Al, taking off his ski parka, and is immediately overwhelmed with an all-encompassing Proustian relapse of depression and exhaustion. Her face drops, color drains everywhere, her eyes go blank, and she breaks out in hives all over her forearms. Turning to the second-string skier, she quietly says, “I’m suddenly so tired. I don’t know what’s come over me. Can’t keep my eyes open. Will you excuse me?”
    “Of course. No problem,” says the strongest thighs in the East, bewildered. Not understanding any of it, he’s probably trying to figure out where his surefire pitch backfired.
    Chris, saddened and down, down, down, turns and walks over to Maggie, who’s standing in the kitchen doorway.
    “I’m sorry, Maggie. But I guess that trip was more tiring than I thought. If you don’t mind, I’ll lie down for a while.”
    “Sure. I understand,” says Maggie, who does.
    “Don’t wake me. I’ll get up.”
    “Okay.”
    Chris turns around, and as she approaches the stairs, she passes Al and, without ever really looking at him, says quietly, “Hi, Al.. . how’ve you been?” But before he can tell her how he’s been, she’s up the stairs and into the guest room, where she falls soundly asleep, I am sure, within moments.
    We all drink and chat for another hour before sitting down to dinner. The mood is relaxed, yet anything but jovial.
    Chris surprises everyone but me and Maggie by sleeping through the meal. Knowing how upset she is by Al’s appearance puts me in a fairly lousy frame of mind, too. This in turn makes Maggie a good deal less than her usual bubbling hostess self. Al soon picks up the bad vibrations, and he too is down about it. Our generally subdued spirit becomes infectious and eventually spreads to the otherguests, and so we all spend a rather somber Thanksgiving dinner with our chins in our laps, Chris’ conspicuously empty chair at the table not helping matters any.
    The only one who seems to be having anything resembling a good time at this wake, in fact, is of course Douglas, who announces, as he serves cognac and hands out cigars at the end of the meal, that it is the nicest, warmest Thanksgiving he can recall.
    Later on, when everyone retires to the warmth of the living room, I go into the kitchen and prepare a Care package of leftovers. Putting it all on a tray with a tall candle and a glass of wine, I then go upstairs.
    “What time is it?” asks Chris, sitting up in bed as I arrive.
    “After nine.”
    “I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” she lies.
    “I know,” I lie back. “Hungry?”
    “Famished.”
    “Well, if this modest offering doesn’t sustain madam, Fm sure cook can come up with something else.”
    “Thank you, James. Just put it down, kick out the guests, lock up the house, wash the windows, and then get yourself some rest after you’ve readied tomorrow’s breakfast.”
    “Whatever madam wishes.” I place the tray down in front of Chris, and there is a long time before either of us says anything. Chris very slowly opens her napkin and places it softly on her lap.
    “Your eyes are swollen,” I tell her. “Been crying?”
    “Can you believe it? I swear I thought I was over him. Last week I had trouble remembering his name. Then his cocky friend crashes the party, uninvited; I take one look and go to pieces. Hank, that bastard. Remember how his eyes lit up when he smiled?”
    “No doubt about it. He was a