Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"More than ever, Cary. I should go there more than ever," I said.

I said it with such determination and strength, I even surprised myself.

"With all your unhappiness and all your own problems, you think you can go and help someone else?" he challenged.

"Because of all that," I replied, thinking about some of the things Grandma Olivia had said. "It's important to learn how to deal with unpleasantness, how to accept what you can't change and move on to what you can."

"And you think you can change Kenneth's unhappiness?" he asked with skepticism and amazement.

"Yes," I said gazing out over the blue waves that rolled toward us. "Yes, I do."

12

The Downward Spiral

.

The wind picked up considerably as we drove

down the bumpy beach road to Kenneth's house. I could see the ocean spray bouncing off the rocks, and the seagulls looked like they were struggling to stay on course. The sky was still quite blue, but over the horizon long somber clouds with ominously gray faces were snaking toward us.

"Bit of a nor'easter coming," Cary said. "We'll get some heavy rain tonight."

We stopped beside Kenneth's jeep, and noticed that he had left the driver's side door wide open. Getting out of the truck slowly, I stepped up to the jeep and peered in at the empty beer bottles and the empty fast food bags on the floor, some old french fries and packets of ketchup beside them.

"I think he burned out his battery," Cary said, gazing over my shoulder. He nodded at the dashboard. "Looks like he left the headlights on all night after he returned from whatever bar he was at."

I shook my head, my heart thumping in anticipation as we turned toward the house. The door was unlocked as usual, but it, too, was partially open. The house was even a worse mess than it had been before I had begun working for Kenneth. It looked like he hadn't washed a dish in the kitchen since I had left. Food was caked on plates. Glasses, some still with wine, whiskey, beer and flat Coke in them, were scattered everywhere, even on the windowsills.

I knocked on the bedroom doorjamb before gazing in, but Kenneth wasn't there. I didn't know how he could sleep in the bedroom anyway. The blankets were half off the bed, as were the sheets. There was a pillow on the floor, along with clothing and shoes he had discarded. I waded through the mess and then stopped and stooped down to pick up the picture of Mommy and me I had once found under the bed.

"Boy, it smells in here, doesn't it?" Cary said. I saw some rotted food and what looked like a pile of vomit in the corner. "Disgusting. What's that?"

"A picture of myself and Mommy. Did you check the bathroom?"

"Yes. He's probably in the studio," Cary said. He shook his head as he gazed around the room. "I told you things were bad, but I didn't know how bad they were."

"Okay. Let's go find him," I said and we walked through the house, both grateful for the fresh air. I gazed down at the small pool where Kenneth kept Shell the turtle and some fish. Two dead fish floated on top of the water and Shell was nowhere in sight.

The door to the studio was wide open. I stood in the doorway, sweeping my eyes over the bottles, the plates, the paper and cans. A chair was overturned and the small sofa looked as if it were missing some of its stuffing.

Kenneth was sprawled at the foot of Neptune's Daughter. He was folded in the fetal position, one hand holding a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. His cheeks were unshaven, his

beard very straggly, his hair long and untrimmed. He wore a stained pair of dungarees, no shoes and a faded brown T-shirt ripped down the right side. His eyes were shut tight and his mouth was twisted in a grimace. It looked like he was having a terrible nightmare.

Ulysses, sleeping at his side, rose with great effort, and came to greet us, his tail wagging emphatically.

"Oh, Ulysses, you poor baby," I said as he licked my hands and my face. "When was the last time you were fed?"

"He's probably been eating off plates, leftovers," Cary remarked.

We both looked at Kenneth again. He hadn't stirred.

"Maybe we shouldn't wake him," Cary said. "I told you I did that before, but I didn't tell you he wasn't so nice about it."

"We can't leave him here like this," I declared, took a deep breath and went to him. He smelled awful but I knelt down and carefully pried the bottle of whiskey out of his fingers. Cary rushed over to take it and put it on the table. Then I shook Kenneth's shoulder gently. His mouth closed and opened, but his eyes remained shut. I shook him again, harder.

"Kenneth. Kenneth, wake up. It's Melody. I'm back. Kenneth. Kenneth!" I jerked his arm and his eyes snapped opened with a start as he groaned. He shot up so quickly, I nearly fell backward to avoid being struck by his swinging left arm. Then he fixed his eyes on me and rubbed them into focus.