sk.petsematary-第40章

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　　The　old　man　swore　at　him　in　Yiddish　and　banged　the　phone　down　at　his　end；　breaking　the　connection。　Steve　waited　to　see　if　Goldman　would　indeed　show　up；　but　Goldman　had　apparently　decided　to　wait。　By　noon　Rachel　did　seem　a　little　better。　She　was　at　least　aware　of　the　time　frame　she　was　in；　and　she　had　gone　out　to　the　kitchen　to　see　if　there　were　sandwich　makings　or　anything　for　after。　People　would　probably　want　to　e　back　to　the　house　after；　wouldn't　they？　she　asked　Steve。
　　Steve　nodded。
　　There　was　no　bologna　or　cold　roast　beef；　but　there　was　a　Butterball　turkey　in　the　freezer；　and　she　put　it　on　the　drainboard　to　thaw。　Steve　looked　into　the　kitchen　a　few　minutes　later　and　saw　her　standing　by　the　sink；　looking　fixedly　at　the　turkey　on　the　drainboard　and　weeping。
　　〃Rachel？〃
　　She　looked　toward　Steve。　〃Gage　really　liked　these。　He　especially　liked　the　white　meat。　It　was　just　occurring　to　me　that　he　was　never　going　to　eat　another　Butterball　turkey。〃
　　Steve　sent　her　upstairs　to　dress…the　final　test　of　her　ability　to　cope；　really…and　when　she　came　down　wearing　a　simple　black　dress　belted　at　the　waist　and　carrying　a　small　black　clutch　bag　（an　evening　bag；　really）；　Steve　decided　she　was　all　right；　and　Jud　concurred。
　　Steve　drove　her　into　town。　He　stood　with　Surrendra　Hardu　in　the　lobby　of　the　East　Room　and　watched　Rachel　drift　down　the　aisle　toward　the　flower…buried　coffin　like　a　wraith。
　　〃How　is　it　going；　Steve？〃　Surrendra　asked　quietly。
　　〃Going　fucking　terrible；〃　Steve　said　in　a　low；　harsh　voice。　〃How　did　you　think　it　was　going？〃
　　〃I　thought　it　was　probably　going　fucking　terrible；〃　Surrendra　said　and　sighed。
　　The　trouble　really　began　at　the　morning　viewing；　when　Irwin　Goldman　refused　to　shake　hands　with　his　son…in…law。
　　The　sight　of　so　many　friends　and　relatives　had　actually　forced　Louis　out　of　the　web　of　shock　a　little；　had　forced　him　to　notice　what　was　going　on　and　be　outward。　He　had　reached　that　stage　of　malleable　grief　that　funeral　directors　are　so　used　to　handling　and　turning　to　its　best　advantage。　Louis　was　moved　around　like　a　counter　in　a　Parcheesi　game。
　　Outside　the　East　Room　was　a　small　foyer　where　people　could　smoke　and　sit　in　overstuffed　easy　chairs。　The　chairs　looked　as　if　they　might　have　e　directly　from　a　distress　sale　at　some　old　English　men's　club　that　had　gone　broke。　Beside　the　door　leading　into　the　viewing　room　was　a　small　easel；　black　metal　chased　with　gold；　and　on　this　easel　was　a　small　sign　which　said　simply　CAGE　WILLIAM　CREED。　If　you　went　across　this　spacious　white　building　that　looked　misleadingly　like　a　fortable　old　house；　you　came　to　an　identical　foyer；　this　one　outside　the　West　Room；　where　the　sign　on　the　easel　read　ALBERTA　BURNHAM　NEDEAU。　At　the　back　of　the　house　was　the　Riverfront　Room。　The　easel　to　the　left　of　the　door　between　the　foyer　and　this　room　was　blank；　it　was　not　in　use　on　this　Tuesday　morning。　Downstairs　was　the　coffin　showroom；　each　model　lit　by　a　baby　spotlight　mounted　on　the　ceiling。　If　you　looked　up…Louis　had；　and　the　funeral　director　had　frowned　severely　at　him…it　looked　as　if　there　were　a　lot　of　strange　animals　roosting　up　there。
　　Jud　had　e　with　him　on　Sunday；　the　day　after　Gage　had　died；　to　pick　out　a　coffin。　They　had　gone　downstairs；　and　instead　of　immediately　turning　right　into　the　coffin　showroom；　Louis；　dazed；　had　continued　straight　on　down　the　hallway　toward　a　plain　white　swinging　door；　the　sort　you　see　municating　between　restaurant　dining　rooms　and　the　kitchen。　Both　Jud　and　the　funeral　director　had　said　quickly　and　simultaneously；　〃Not　that　way；〃　and　Louis　had　followed　them　away　from　that　swinging　door　obediently。　He　knew　what　was　behind　that　door　though。　His　uncle　had　been　an　undertaker。
　　The　East　Room　was　furnished　with　neat　rows　of　folding　chairs
　　…the　expensive　ones　with　plushy　seats　and　backs。　At　the　front；　in　an　area　that　seemed　a　bination　nave　and　bower；　was　Cage's　coffin。　Louis　had　picked　the　American　Casket　pany's　rosewood　model…Eternal　Rest；　it　was　called。　It　was　lined　with　plushy　pink　silk。　The　mortician　agreed　that　it　was　really　a　beautiful　coffin　and　apologized　that　he　did　not　have　one　with　a　blue　lining。　Louis　responded　that　he　and　Rachel　had　never　made　such　distinctions。　The　mortician　had　nodded。　The　mortician　asked　Louis　if　he　had　thought　about　how　he　would　defray　the　expenses　of
　　Cage's　funeral。　If　not；　he　said；　he　could　take　Louis　into　his　office　and　quickly　go　over　three　of　their　more　popular　plans…　In　Louis's　mind；　an　announcer　suddenly　spoke　up　cheerfully：　I　got　my　kid's　coffin　free；　for　Raleigh　coupons！
　　Feeling　like　a　creature　in　a　dream；　he　said；　〃I'm　going　to　pay　for　everything　with　my　MasterCard。〃
　　〃Fine；〃　the　mortician　said。
　　The　coffin　was　no　more　than　four　feet　long…a　dwarf　coffin。　Nonetheless　its　price　was　slightly　over　six　hundred　dollars。　Louis　supposed　it　rested　on　trestles；　but　the　flowers　made　it　difficult　to　see；　and　he　hadn't　wanted　to　go　too　close。　The　smell　of　all　those　flowers　made　him　want　to　gag。
　　At　the　head　of　the　aisle；　just　inside　the　door　giving　onto　the　foyer…lounge；　was　a　book　on　a　stand。　Chained　to　the　stand　was　a　ballpoint　pen。　It　was　here　that　the　funeral　director　positioned　Louis；　so　he　could　〃greet　his　friends　and　relatives。〃
　　The　friends　and　relatives　were　supposed　to　sign　the　book　with　their　names　and　addresses。　Louis　had　never　had　the　slightest　idea　what　the　purpose　of　this　mad　custom　might　be；　and　he　did　not　ask　now。　He　supposed　that　when　the　funeral　was　over；　he　and　Rachel　would　get　to　keep　the　book。　That　seemed　the　maddest　thing　of　all。　Somewhere　he　had　a　high　school　yearbook　and　a　college　yearbook　and　a　med　school　yearbook；　there　was　also　a　wedding　book；　with　MY　WEDDING　DAY　stamped　on　the　imitation　leather　in　imitation　gold　leaf；　beginning　with　a　photo　of　Rachel　trying　on　her　bridal　veil　before　the　mirror　that　morning　with　her　mother's　help　and　ending　with　a　photo　of　two　pairs　of　shoes　outside　a　closed　hotel　door。　There　was　also　a　baby　book　for　Ellie…　they　had　tired　of　adding　to　it　rather　quickly　though；　that　one…　with　its　spaces　for　MY　FIRST　HAIRCUT　（add　a　lock　of　baby's　hair）　and　WHOOPS！　（add　a　picture　of　baby　falling　on　her　ass）　…had　been　just　too　relentlessly　cute。
　　Now；　added　to　all　the　others；　this　one。　What　do　we　call　it？
　　Louis　wondered　as　he　stood　numbly　beside　the　stand　waiting　for　the　party　to　begin。　MY　DEATHBOOK？　FUNERAL　AUTOGRAPHS？　THE
　　DAY　WE　PLANTED　GAGE？　Or　maybe　something　more　dignified；　like
　　A　DEATH　IN　THE　FAMILY？
　　He　turned　the　book　back　to　its　cover；　which；　like　the　cover　to　the　MY　WEDDING　DAY　book；　was　imitation　leather。
　　The　cover　was　blank。
　　Almost　predictably；　Missy　Dandridge　had　been　the　first　to　arrive　that　morning；　good…hearted　Missy　who　had　sat　with　Ellie　and　Gage　on　dozens　of　occasions。　Louis　found　himself　remembering　that　it　had　been　Missy　who　had　taken　the　kids　on　the　evening　of　the　day　Victor　Pascow　had　died。　She　had　taken　the　kids；　and　Rachel　had　made　love　to　him；　first　in　the　tub；　then　in　bed。
　　Missy　had　been　crying；　crying　hard；　and　at　the　sight　of　Louis's　calm；　still　face；　she　burst　into　fresh　tears　and　reached　for　him…　seemed　to　grope　for　him。　Louis　embraced　her；　realizing　that　this　was　the　way　it　worked　or　the　way　it　was　supposed　to　work；　anyway…some　kind　of　human　charge　that　went　back　and　forth；　loosening　up　the　hard　earth　of　loss；　venting　it；　breaking　up　the　rocky　path　of　shock　with　the　heat　of　sorrow。
　　I'm　so　sorry；　Missy　was　saying；　brushing　her　dark　blond　hair　back　from　her　pallid　face。　Such　a　dear　sweet　little　boy。　I　loved　him　so　much；　Louis；　I'm　so　sorry；　it's　an　awful　road；　I　hope　they　put　that　truck　driver　in　jail　forever；　he　was　going　much　too　fast；　he　was　so　sweet；　so　dear；　so　bright；　why　would　Cod　take　Gage；　I　don't　know；　we　can't　understand；　can　we；　but　I'm　sorry；　sorry；　so　sorry。
　　Louis　forted　her；　held　her　and　forted　her。　He　felt　her　tears　on　his　collar；　the　press　of　her　breasts　against　him。　She　wanted　to　know　where　Rachel　was；　and　Louis　told　her　that　Rachel　was　resting。　Missy　promised　to　go　see　her　and　that　she　would　sit　with　Ellie　anytime；　for　as　long　as　they　needed　her。　Louis　thanked　her。
　　She　had　started　away；　still　sniffing；　her　eyes　redder　than　ever　above　her　black　handkerchief。　She　was　moving　toward　the　coffin　when　Louis　called　her　back。　The　funeral　director；　whose　name　Louis　could　not　even　remember；　had　told　him　to　have　them　sign　the　book；　and　damned　if　he　wasn't　going　to　have　them　do　it。
　　Mystery　guest；　sign　in　please；　he　thought　and　came　very　close　to　going　off　into　cackles　of　bright；　hysterical　laughter。
　　It　was　Missy's　woeful；　heartbroken　eyes　that　drove　the　laughter　away。
　　〃Missy；　would　you　sign　the　book？〃　he　asked　her；　and　because　something　else　seemed　to　be　needed；　he　added；　〃For　Rachel。〃
　　〃Of　course；〃　she　said。　〃Poor　Louis　and　poor　Rachel。〃　And　suddenly　Louis　knew　what　she　was　going　to　say　next；　and　for　some　reason　he　dreaded　it；　yet　it　was　ing；　unavoidable；　like　a　black　bullet　of　a　large　caliber　from　a　killer's　gun；　and　he　knew　that　he　would　be　struck　over　and　over　by　this　bullet　in　the　next　interminable　ninety　minutes；　and　then　again　in　the　afternoon；　while　the　wounds　of　the　morning　were　still　trickling　blood：
　　〃Thank　God　he　didn't　suffer；　Louis。　At　least　it　was　quick。〃
　　Yes；　it　was　quick；　all　right；　he　thought　about　saying　to　her…ah；　how　that　would　shatter　her　face　all　over　again；　and　he　felt　a　vicious　urge　to　do　it；　to　simply　spray　the　words　into　her　face。　It　was　quick；　no　doubt　about　that；　that's　why　the　coffin's　closed；　nothing　could　have　been　done　about　Gage　even　if　Rachel　and　I　approved　of　dressing　up　dead　relatives　in　their　best　like　department　store　mannequins　and　rouging　and　powdering　and　painting　their　faces。　It　was　quick；　Missy…my…dear；　one　minute　he　was　there　on　the　road　and　the　next　minute　he　was　lying　in　it；　but　way　down　by　the　Ringers'　house。　It　hit　him　and　killed　him　and　then　it　dragged　him　and　you　better　believe　it　was　quick。　A　hundred　yards　or　more　all　told；　the　length　of　a　football　field。　I　ran　after　him；　Missy；　I　was　screaming　his　name　over　and　over　again；　almost　as　if　I　expected　he　would　still　be　alive；　me；　a　doctor。　I　ran　ten　yards　and　there　was　his　baseball　cap　and　I　ran　twenty　yards　and　there　was　one　of　his　Star　Wars　sneakers；　I　ran　forty　yards　and　by　then　the　truck　had　run　off　the　road　and　the　box　had　jackknifed　in　that　field　beyond　the　Ringers'　barn。　People　were　ing　out　of　their　houses　and　I　went　on　screaming　his　name；　Missy；　and　at　the　fifty…yard　line　there　was　his　jumper；　it　was　turned　inside…out；　and　on　the　seventy…yard　line　there　was　the　other　sneaker；　and　then　there　was　Gage。
　　Abruptly　the　world　went　dove　gray。　Everything　passed　out　of　his　view。　Dimly　he　could　feel　the　corner　of　the　stand　which　held　the　book　digging　into　his　palm；　but　that　was　all。
　　〃Louis？〃　Missy's　voice。　Distant。　The　mystery　sound　of　pigeons　in　his　ears。
　　〃Louis？〃　Closer　now。　Alarmed。
　　The　world　swam　back　into　focus。
　　〃You　all　right？〃
　　He　smiled。　〃Fine；〃　he　said。　〃I'm　okay；　Missy。〃
　　She　signed　for　herself　and　her　husband…Mr。　and　Mrs。　David　Dandridge…in　round　Palmer…method　script；　to　this　she　added　their　address…Rural　Box　67；　Old　Bucksport　Road…and　then　raised　her　eyes　to　Louis's　and　quickly　dropp