Page 122 of Glass (Crank 2)

I noticed your light was on

this morning around three,

she says. Up all night, huh?

I shrug. “A lot of it.

Something about the bedsprings

creaking next door.”

We left it at that and went on

about our business. Which is

a good thing. Sleep-deprived, brain

sizzling on yet another toke, my

thought processes are jumbled.

I’m not a worthy opponent.

The plan is a birthday dinner

at our favorite Italian bistro.

But dinner for six (plus room

for an infant seat) becomes suddenly

complicated when Dad’s “new” ‘98

Montero wheezes up the driveway.

Otto barks, announcing a stranger’s

arrival. Dad sits in his car a good

long while, no doubt ascertaining

his safety. Truth be told, Otto—

a hundred-pound black sable German

shepherd—would probably eat

Dad for lunch. I know he’d love

to take a big bite out of Dad’s new

girlfriend, Linda Sue.

But locked safely away behind

six-foot chain-link, he won’t

get the chance. Poor dog.

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