Whisper

31

It was late the night of January 5th, that I was awaken by the combination of my doorbell ringing, knocking on my door and a man rapping on my living room window and yelling.

.

I pulled myself off the couch and looked to the window. I could see someone peering in.

It looked like Peter Maynard.

I tried to be invisible, but he saw me, somehow, in the darkness.

.

"I sees 'im," he yelled to someone.

.

A second later, John Maynard appeared in the window.

He too, was yelling and waving to me.

.

"Shit," I muttered, as I pulled myself to my feet.

"What day is this?"

I felt like crap and probably looked worst.

I dragged myself to the front door. As I opened it, I could see the tractor parked in front of my house.

Peter and John obviously were ploughing the roads.

The storm seemed to have subsided.

.

The two men came inside the house, stomping the snow off their feet outside, on the veranda, before entering.

.

"You looks like shit, Will boy," John commented, as he closed the door.

"Sheila be so worried about you, boy.

Where did you disappear to, New Years?"

.

"I suddenly got sick," I lied.

"I threw up in the bathroom, before I left and I just went home."

I took a coat from the rack near me and put it on, shivering, as I did.

"I have been curled up ever since. This is the first time I have really moved since that night."

.

Peter put his hand over his mouth.

"Well, boy, I hopes its not contagious," he joked.

.

I forced a smile.

I was sick, but it was from a massive hangover.

.

John patted my shoulder.

"We was all worryin' 'bout yo, Will. Sheila and Henry be beside demselves."

.

I nodded.

"Please tell her I am sorry."

I took a deep breath. I really was.

"I will call her in the morning, I promise."

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John nodded.

"You could least answer yer phone, Will."

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"I know," I nodded, apologetically.

"But I have barely had the energy to even feed the cats and in honesty, I don't even know where my cell phone is. I think I might have lost it in the snow on the way home."