sk.petsematary-第41章

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s　to　Louis's　and　quickly　dropped　them；　as　if　her　very　address　on　the　road　where　Gage　had　died　constituted　a　crime。
　　〃Be　well；　Louis；〃　she　whispered。
　　David　Dandridge　shook　his　hand　and　muttered　something　inarticulate；　his　prominent；　arrowhead…shaped　adam's　apple　bobbing　up　and　down。　Then　he　followed　his　wife　hurriedly　down　the　aisle　for　the　ritual　examination　of　a　coffin　which　had　been　made　in　Storyville；　Ohio；　a　place　where　Gage　had　never　been　and　where　he　was　not　known。
　　Following　the　Dandridges　they　all　came；　moving　in　a　shuffling　line；　and　Louis　received　them；　their　handshakes；　their　hugs；　their　tears。　His　collar　and　the　upper　sleeve　of　his　dark　gray　suit　coat　soon　became　quite　damp。　The　smell　of　the　flowers　began　to　reach　even　the　back　of　the　room　and　to　permeate　the　place　with　the　smell　of　funeral。　It　was　a　smell　he　remembered　from　his　childhood…that　sweet；　thick；　mortuary　smell　of　flowers。　Louis　was　told　how　merciful　it　was　that　Gage　hadn't　suffered　thirty…two　times　by　his　own　inner　count。　He　was　told　that　God　works　in　mysterious　ways　His　wonders　to　perform　twenty…five　times。　Bringing　up　the　rear　was　he's　with　the　angels　now；　a　total　of　twelve　times。
　　It　began　to　get　to　him。　Instead　of　losing　what　marginal　sense　these　little　aphorisms　had　（the　way　your　own　name　will　lose　its　sense　and　identity　if　you　repeat　it　over　and　over　again）；　they　seemed　to　punch　deeper　each　time；　angling　in　toward　the　vitals。　By　the　time　his　mother…in…law　and　father…in…law　put　in　their　inevitable　appearance；　he　had　begun　to　feel　like　a　hard…tagged　fighter。
　　His　first　thought　was　that　Rachel　had　been　right…and　how。　Irwin　Goldman　had　indeed　aged。　He　was…what？　Fifty…eight；　fifty…nine？　Today　he　looked　a　graven　and　posed　seventy。　He　looked　almost　absurdly　like　Israel's　Prime　Minister　Menachem　Begin　with　his　bald　head　and　Coke…bottle　glasses。　Rachel　had　told　Louis　Goldman　had　aged　when　she　came　back　from　her　Thanksgiving　trip；　but　Louis　had　not　expected　this。　Of　course；　he　thought；　maybe　it　hadn't　been　this　bad　at　Thanksgiving。　The　old　man　hadn't　lost　one　of　his　two　grandchildren　at　Thanksgiving。
　　Dory　walked　beside　him；　her　face　all　but　invisible　under　two…　possibly　three…layers　of　heavy　black　netting。　Her　hair　was　fashionably　blue；　the　color　favored　by　elderly　ladies　of　an　upper…class
　　American　persuasion。　She　held　her　husband's　ann。　All　Louis　could　really　see　behind　the　veil　was　the　glitter　of　her　tears。
　　Suddenly　he　decided　it　was　time　to　let　bygones　be　bygones。　He　could　not　hold　the　old　grudge　any　longer。　Suddenly　it　was　too　heavy。　Perhaps　it　was　the　cumulative　weight　of　all　those　platitudes。
　　〃Irwin。　Dory；〃　he　murmured。　〃Thank　you　for　ing。〃
　　He　made　a　gesture　with　his　arms；　as　if　to　shake　hands　with　Rachel's　father　and　hug　her　mother　simultaneously；　or　perhaps　even　to　hug　them　both。　Either　way　he　felt　his　own　tears　start　for　the　first　time；　and　for　an　instant　he　had　the　crazy　idea　that　they　could　mend　all　their　fences；　that　Gage　would　do　that　much　for　them　in　his　dying；　as　if　this　were　some　romantic　ladies'　novel　he　had　stepped　into　where　the　wages　of　death　were　reconciliation；　where　it　could　cause　something　more　constructive　than　this　endless；　stupid；　grinding　ache　which　just　went　on　and　on　and　on。
　　Dory　started　toward　him；　making　a　gesture；　beginning；　perhaps；　to　hold　out　her　own　arms。　She　said　something…〃Oh；　Louis。　。　。〃　and　something　else　that　was　garbled…and　then　Goldman　pulled　his　wife　back。　For　a　moment　the　three　of　them　stood　in　a　tableau　that　no　one　noticed　except　themselves　（unless　perhaps　the　funeral　director；　standing　unobtrusively　in　the　far　corner　of　the　East　Room；　saw…Louis　supposed　that　Uncle　Carl　would　have　seen）；　Louis　with　his　arms　partly　outstretched；　Irwin　and　Dory　Goldman　standing　as　stiff　and　straight　as　a　couple　on　a　wedding　cake。
　　Louis　saw　that　there　were　no　tears　in　his　father…in…law's　eyes；　they　were　bright　and　clear　with　hate　（does　he　think　I　killed　Gage　to　spite　him？　Louis　wondered）。　Those　eyes　seemed　to　measure　Louis；　to　find　him　the　same　small　and　pointless　man　who　had　kidnapped　his　daughter　and　brought　her　to　this　sorrow。　。　。　and　then　to　dismiss　him。　His　eyes　shifted　to　Louis's　left…to　Gage's　coffin；　in　fact…and　only　then　did　they　soften。
　　Still　Louis　made　a　final　effort。　〃Irwin；〃　he　said。　〃Dory。　Please。　We　have　to　get　together　on　this。〃
　　〃Louis；〃　Dory　said　again…kindly；　Louis　thought…and　then　they　were　past　him；　Irwin　Goldman　perhaps　pulling　his　wife　along；　not　looking　to　the　left　or　the　right；　certainly　not　looking　at　Louis　Creed。　They　approached　the　coffin；　and　Goldman　fumbled　a　small　black　skullcap　out　of　his　suit　coat　pocket。
　　You　didn't　sign　the　book；　Louis　thought；　and　then　a　silent　belch　of　such　malignantly　acidic　content　rose　through　his　digestive　works　that　his　face　clenched　in　pain。
　　The　morning　viewing　ended　at　last。　Louis　called　home。　Jud　answered　and　asked　him　how　it　had　gone。　All　right；　Louis　said。　He　asked　Jud　if　he　could　talk　to　Steve。
　　〃If　she　can　dress　herself；　I'm　going　to　let　her　e　this　afternoon；〃　Steve　said。　〃Okay　by　you？〃
　　〃Yes；〃　Louis　said。
　　〃How　are　you；　Lou？　No　bullshit　and　straight　on…how　are　you？〃
　　〃All　right；〃　Louis　said　briefly。　〃Coping。〃　I　had　all　of　them　sign　the　book。　All　of　them　except　Dory　and　Irwin；　and　they　wouldn't。
　　〃All　right；〃　Steve　said。　〃Look；　shall　we　meet　you　for　lunch？〃
　　Lunch。　Meeting　for　lunch。　This　seemed　such　an　alien　idea　that　Louis　thought　of　the　science　fiction　novels　he　had　read　as　a　teenager…novels　by　Robert　A。　Heinlein；　Murray　Leinster；　Gordon　R。　Dickson。　The　natives　here　on　Planet　Quark　have　an　odd　custom　when　one　of　their　children　dies；　Lieutenant　Abelson：　they　〃meet　for　lunch。〃　I　know　how　grotesque　and　barbaric　that　sounds；　but　remember；　this　planet　has　not　been　terra　formed　yet。
　　〃Sure；〃　Louis　said。　〃What's　a　good　restaurant　for　half　time　between　funeral　viewings；　Steve？〃
　　〃Take　it　easy；　Lou；〃　Steve　said；　but　he　didn't　seem　entirely　displeased。　In　this　state　of　crazy　calm；　Louis　felt　better　able　to　see　into　people　than　ever　before　in　his　life。　Perhaps　it　was　an　illusion；　but　right　now　he　suspected　Steve　was　thinking　that　even　a　sudden　spate　of　sarcasm；　squirted　out　like　an　abrupt　mouthful　of　bile；　was　preferable　to　his　earlier　state　of　disconnection。
　　〃Don't　worry；〃　he　said　to　Steve　now。　〃What　about　Benjamin's？〃
　　〃Sure；〃　Steve　said。　〃Benjamin's　would　be　fine。〃
　　He　had　made　the　call　from　the　office　of　the　funeral　director。　Now；　as　Louis　passed　the　East　Room　on　his　way　out；　he　saw　that　the　room　was　almost　empty；　but　Irwin　and　Dory　Goldman　sat　down　in　the　front　row；　heads　bowed。　They　looked　to　Louis　as　if　they　might　sit　there　forever。
　　Benjamin's　was　the　right　choice。　Bangor　was　an　early…lunch　town；　and　around　one　o'clock　it　was　nearly　deserted。　Jud　had　e　along　with　Steve　and　Rachel；　and　the　four　of　them　ate　fried　chicken。　At　one　point　Rachel　went　to　the　ladies'　room　and　remained　in　there　so　long　that　Steve　became　nervous。　He　was　on　the　verge　of　asking　a　waitress　to　check　on　her　when　she　came　back　to　the　table；　her　eyes　red。
　　Louis　picked　at　his　chicken　and　drank　a　lot　of　Schlitz　beer。　Jud　matched　him　bottle　for　bottle；　not　talking　much。
　　Their　four　meals　went　back　almost　uneaten；　and　with　his　preternatural　insight；　Louis　saw　the　waitress；　a　fat　girl　with　a　pretty　face；　debating　with　herself　about　whether　or　not　to　ask　them　if　their　meals　had　been　all　right；　finally　taking　another　look　at　Rachel's　red…rimmed　eyes　and　deciding　it　would　be　the　wrong　question。　Over　coffee　Rachel　said　something　so　suddenly　and　so　baldly　that　it　rather　shocked　them　all…particularly　Louis；　who　at　last　was　being　sleepy　with　the　beer。　〃I'm　going　to　give　his　clothes　to　the　Salvation　Army。〃
　　〃Are　you？〃　Steve　said　after　a　moment。
　　〃Yes；〃　Rachel　said。　〃There's　a　lot　of　wear　in　them　yet。　All　his　jumpers　。　。　。　his　corduroy　pants　。　。　。　his　shirts。　Someone　will　be　glad　to　get　them。　They're　all　very　serviceable。　Except　for　the　ones　he　was　wearing；　of　course。　They're。　。　。　ruined。〃
　　The　last　word　became　a　miserable　choke。　She　tried　to　drink　coffee；　but　that　was　no　good。　A　moment　later　she　was　sobbing　into　her　hands。
　　There　was　a　queer　moment　then。　There　were　crossing　lines　of　tension　then。　They　all　seemed　to　focus　on　Louis。　He　felt　this　with　the　same　preternatural　insight　he'd　had　all　this　day；　and　of　them　all；　this　was　the　clearest　and　surest。　Even　the　waitress　felt　those　converging　lines　of　awareness。　He　saw　her　pause　at　a　table　near　the　back　where　she　was　laying　placemats　and　silver。　For　a　moment　Louis　was　puzzled；　and　then　he　understood：　they　were　waiting　for　him　to　fort　his　wife。
　　He　couldn't　do　it。　He　wanted　to　do　it。　He　understood　it　was　his　responsibility　to　do　it。　All　the　same；　he　couldn't。　It　was　the　cat　that　got　in　his　way。　Suddenly　and　with　no　rime　or　reason。　The　cat。　The　fucking　cat。　Church　with　his　ripped　mice　and　the　birds　he　had　grounded　forever。　When　he　found　them；　Louis　had　cleaned　up　the　messes　promptly；　with　no　plaint　or　ment；　certainly　without　protest。　He　had；　after　all；　bought　them。　But　had　he　bought　this？
　　He　saw　his　fingers。　Louis　saw　his　fingers。　He　saw　his　fingers　lightly　skating　over　the　back　of　Gage's　jacket。　Then　Gage's　jacket　had　been　gone。　Then　Gage　had　been　gone。
　　He　looked　into　his　coffee　cup　and　let　his　wife　cry　beside　him；　unforted。
　　After　a　moment…in　terms　of　clock　time　probably　quite　short；　but　both　then　and　in　retrospect　it　seemed　long…Steve　put　an　arm　around　her　and　hugged　her　gently。　His　eyes　on　Louis's　were　reproachful　and　angry。　Louis　turned　from　them　toward　Jud；　but　Jud　was　looking　down；　as　if　in　shame。　There　was　no　help　there。
　　　37
　　〃I　knew　something　like　this　would　happen；〃　Irwin　Goldman　said。　That　was　how　the　trouble　started。　〃I　knew　it　when　she　married　you。　'You'll　have　all　the　grief　you　can　stand　and　more；'　I　said。　And　look　at　this。　Look　at　this。　。　。　this　mess。〃
　　Louis　looked　slowly　around　at　his　father…in…law；　who　had　appeared　before　him　like　some　malign　jack…in…the…box　in　a　skullcap；　and　then；　instinctively；　he　looked　around　at　where　Rachel　had　been；　by　the　book　on　the　stand…the　afternoon　shift　was　hers　by　default…but　Rachel　was　gone。
　　The　afternoon　viewing　had　been　less　crowded；　and　after　half　an　hour　or　so；　Louis　had　gone　down　to　the　front　row　of　seats　and　sat　there　on　the　aisle；　aware　of　very　little　（only　peripherally　aware　of　the　cloying　stink　of　the　flowers）　except　the　fact　that　he　was　very　tired　and　sleepy。　It　was　only　partly　the　beer；　he　supposed。　His　mind　was　finally　ready　to　shut　down。　Probably　a　good　thing。　Perhaps；　after　twelve　or　sixteen　hours　of　sleep；　he　would　be　able　to　fort　Rachel　a　little。
　　After　a　while　his　head　had　sunk　until　he　was　looking　at　his　hands；　loosely　linked　between　his　knees。　The　hum　of　voices　near　the　back　was　soothing。　He　had　been　relieved　to　see　that　Irwin　and　Dory　weren't　here　when　the　four　of　them　returned　from　lunch；　but　he　should　have　known　their　continued　absence　was　too　good　to　be　true。
　　〃Where's　Rachel？〃　Louis　asked　now。
　　〃With　her　mother。　Where　she　should　be。〃　Goldman　spoke　with　the　studied　triumph　of　a　man　who　has　closed　a　big　deal。　There　was　Scotch　on　his　breath。　A　lot　of　it。　He　stood　before　Louis　like　a　banty　little　district　attorney　before　a　ma