The Other Side of Me. Sidney Sheldon

      

       The Other Side of Me

      Sidney Sheldon

      

       For my beloved granddaughters, Lizy and Rebecca

       so that they will know what a magical journey I had

      ‘He that has no fools, knaves nor beggars in his family was begot by a flash of lightning.’

      THOMAS FULLER

      Seventeenth-century English clergyman

      Table of Contents

       Cover Page

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Epigraph

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

       Ten

       Eleven

       Twelve

       Thirteen

       Fourteen

       Fifteen

       Sixteen

       Seventeen

       Eighteen

       Nineteen

       Twenty

       Twenty-One

       Twenty-Two

       Twenty-Three

       Twenty-Four

       Twenty-Five

       Twenty-Six

       Twenty-Seven

       Twenty-Eight

       Twenty-Nine

       Thirty

       Thirty-One

       Thirty-Two

       Thirty-Three

       Afterword

       Sidney Sheldon’s Credits

       Index

       Preview

       About the Author

       Books by Sidney Sheldon

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       ONE

      At the age of seventeen, working as a delivery boy at Afremow’s drugstore in Chicago was the perfect job, because it made it possible for me to steal enough sleeping pills to commit suicide. I was not certain exactly how many pills I would need, so I arbitrarily decided on twenty, and I was careful to pocket only a few at a time so as not to arouse the suspicion of our pharmacist. I had read that whiskey and sleeping pills were a deadly combination, and I intended to mix them, to make sure I would die.

      It was Saturday—the Saturday I had been waiting for. My parents would be away for the weekend and my brother, Richard, was staying at a friend’s. Our apartment would be deserted, so there would be no one there to interfere with my plan.

      At six o’clock, the pharmacist called out, ‘Closing time.’

      He had no idea how right he was. It was time to close out all the things that were wrong with my life. I knew it wasn’t just me. It was the whole country.

      The year was 1934, and America was going through a devastating crisis. The stock market had crashed and thousands of banks had failed. Businesses were folding everywhere. More than 13 million people had lost their jobs and were desperate. Wages had plunged to as low as a nickel an hour. A million vagabonds, including 200,000 children, were roaming the country. We were in the grip of a disastrous depression. Former millionaires were committing suicide, and executives were selling apples in the streets.

      The most popular song was ‘Gloomy Sunday.’ I had memorized some of the lyrics:

       Gloomy is Sunday. With shadows I spend it all. My heart and I Have decided to end it all.

      The