April Shadows (Shadows 1)

fumbling and tired, weary appearance, he managed to

get through the show. When we returned to the motor

home, he did not, as was his habit, immediately begin

to drink. He said he would drive a little and get some

sleep. I made him something to eat, a scrambled egg

sandwich, and he ate and drank some coffee. Feeling

hopeful. I went to sleep myself. Perhaps this near

professional disaster indeed had woken him up to

what was happening. I thought.

However, when I rose in the morning. I found

him like always, sprawled on the sofa, his arms

twisted and his leg dangling, the emptied bottle of

whiskey on the table. We had one hundred seventyfive miles or so to drive, which wasn't all that much

considering show time, but he was just as incapable of

driving this day as he had been the day before. Once

again, he went into the bathroom and vomited.

Afterward, he stumbled back to the bedroom. I cried to myself and waited, hoping he would

rise, shower, dress, and drive, hoping he would

somehow restore himself as he had miraculously done

before. When he didn't come out. I reluctantly went to

the driver's seat and started up the vehicle, hoping the

sound of the engine and the movement of the motor

home would raise him and bring him to his senses, but

he didn't emerge from the bedroom.

I was following the map we had but realized

about a half hour into the trip that I had missed an

important turn and had actually gone a good forty

miles out of our way. I pulled the van over and

studied the map, searching for the best way to repair

the itinerary. It meant taking a side road through what