Mr. Evans funeral was exactly what I guessed it would be. The entire town showed up to pay their respects but the over all tone was of suspicious. Every look I received was one of a person who thought I had played some part in Mr. Evans death. After the funeral I felt like I needed a drink. I strolled over to Platinum Time and sat down at the bar. Christopher Breaux was bar tending and walked over as I took my seat.
"Have you ever had the police on your ass?" I muttered
"Only once" He replied, not making eye contact, pouring a shot as he said it.
"Then you know what this is like." I took the shot. Then, I took three more and talked with Christopher, mostly small talk. I don't remember much after that expect the dull glow coming from underneath Mr. Evans apartment door as I came home.
The next morning I woke up feeling horribly nauseous. I grabbed a cup of coffee, made some avocado toast, and stood in the window watching the community garden, giving every attempts now to puke my guts out right there. Ignoring my impending sickness, I walked to the front door to grab my newspaper. As I bend down to get it I knew I had made a mistake. I ran to the bathroom and stayed there for the reminder of the morning.
I had chalked it up to the heavy drinking of the night before but when I woke up the next morning feeling just as bad, I decided I had a stomach bug. Going to the doctor seemed unnecessary so I stayed home and rested for the weekend. That Sunday I got a call from Willis. He was high school boyfriend who I had seen at home a month and a half earlier, right before Mr. Evans was killed. I told him I couldn't talk then and promised to call him the next day, after I went to the doctor. He said it was important and to make sure I remembered to call. I promised I would and hung up the phone, returning to the bathroom floor.
