sk.cujo-第24节

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go　through　such　a　weekend　again　in　his　life。　They　had　kept　their　normal；　pleasant　faces　on　…for　Tad　…　but　Vic　had　felt　like　a　participant　at　a　masquerade　ball。　He　didn't　like　to　be　aware　of　the　muscles　in　his　face　at　work　when　he　smiled。
They　had　slept　in　the　same　bed　together；　but　for　the　first　time　the　king…sized　double　seemed　too　small　to　Vic。　They　slept　each　on　one　side；　the　space　between　them　a　crisply　sheeted　no…man's…land。　He　had　lain　awake　both　Friday　and　Saturday　nights；　morbidly　aware　of　each　shift　in　Donna's　weight　as　she　moved；　the　sound　of　her　nightdress　against　her　body。　He　found　himself　wondering　if　she　was　awake；　too；　on　her　side　of　the　emptiness　that　lay　between　them。
Last　night；　Sunday　night；　they　had　tried　to　do　something　about　that　empty　space　in　the　middle　of　the　bed。　The　sex　part　had　been　moderately　successful；　if　a　little　tentative　（at　least　neither　of　them　had　cried　when　it　was　over；　for　some　reason　he　had　been　morbidly　sure　that　one　of　them　would　do　that）。　But　Vic　was　not　sure　you　could　call　what　they　had　done　making　love。
He　dressed　in　his　summerweight　gray　suit　…　as　gray　as　the　early　fight　outside　…　and　picked　up　his　two　suitcases。　One　of　them　was　much　heavier　than　the　other。　That　one　contained　most　of　the　Sharp　Cereals　file。　Roger　had　all　the　graphic　layouts。
Donna　was　making　waffles　in　the　kitchen。　The　teapot　was　on；　just　beginning　to　huff　and　puff。　She　was　wearing　his　old　blue　flannel　robe。　Her　face　was　puffy；　as　if　instead　of　resting　her；　sleep　had　punched　her　unconscious。
'Will　the　planes　fly　when　it's　like　that？'　she　asked。
'It's　going　to　bum　off。　You　can　see　the　sun　already。'　He　pointed　at　it　and　then　kissed　her　lightly　on　the　nape　of　the　neck。　'You　shouldn't　have　gotten　up。'
'No　problem。'　She　lifted　the　waffle　iron's　lid　and　deftly　turned　a　waffle　out　on　a　plate。　She　handed　it　to　him。　'I　wish　you　weren't　going　away。'　Her　voice　was　low。　'Not　now。　After　last　night。'
'It　wasn't　that　bad；　was　it？'
'Not　like　before；'　Donna　said。　A　bitter；　almost　secret　smile　touched　her　lips　and　was　gone。　She　beat　the　waffle　mixture　with　a　wire　whisk　and　then　poured　a　ladleful　into　the　waffle　iron　and　dropped　its　heavy　lid。　Sssss。　She　poured　boding　water　over　a　couple　of　Red　Rose　bags　and　took　the　cups　…　one　said　VIC；　the　other　DONNA　…　over　to　the　table。　'Eat　your　waffle。　There's　strawberry　preserves；　if　you　want　them。'
He　got　the　preserves　and　sat　down。　He　spread　some　oleo　across　the　top　of　the　waffle　and　watched　it　melt　into　the　little　squares；　just　as　he　had　when　he　was　a　child。　The　preserves　were　smucker's。　He　liked　Smucker's　preserves。　He　spread　the　waffle　liberally　with　them。　It　looked　great。　But　he　wasn't　hungry。
'Will　you　get　laid　in　Boston　or　New　York？'　she　asked；　turning　her　back　on　him。　'Even　it　out）　Tit　for　tat）
He　jumped　a　little　…perhaps　even　flushed。　He　was　glad　her　back　was　turned　because　he　felt　that　at　that　precise　moment　there　was　more　of　him　on　his　face　than　he　wanted　her　to　see。　Not　that　he　was　angry；　the　thought　of　giving　the　bellman　a　ten　instead　of　the　usual　buck　and　then　asking　the　fellow　a　few　questions　had　certainly　crossed　his　mind。　He　knew　that　Roger　had　done　it　on　occasion。
'I'm　going　to　be　too　busy　for　anything　like　that。'
'What　does　the　ad　say？　There's　Always　Room　for　Jell…O。'
'Are　you　trying　to　make　me　mad；　Donna？　Or　what？'
'No。　Go　on　and　eat。　You　got　to　feed　the　machine。'
She　sat　down　with　a　waffle　of　her　own。　No　oleo　for　her。　A　dash　of　Vermont　Maid　Syrup；　that　was　all。　How　well　we　know　each　other；　he　thought。
'What　time　are　you　picking　Roger　up）'　she　asked　him。
'After　some　hot　negotiations；　we've　settled　on　six。'
She　smiled　again；　but　this　time　the　smile　was　warm　and　fond。　'He　really　took　that　early…bird　business　to　heart　at　some　point；　didn't　he？'
'Yeah。　I'm　surprised　he　hasn't　called　yet　to　make　sure　I'm　up。'
The　phone　rang。
They　looked　at　each　other　across　the　table；　and　after　a　silent　considering　pause　they　both　burst　out　laughing。　It　was　a　rare　moment；　certainly　more　rare　than　the　careful　lovemaking　in　the　dark　the　night　before。　He　saw　how　fine　her　eyes　were；　how　lucent。　They　were　as　gray　as　the　morning　mist　outside。
'Get　it　quick　before　it　wakes　the　Tadder　up；'　she　said。
He　did。　It　was　Roger。　He　assured　Roger　that　he　was　up；　dressed；　and　in　a　fighting　frame　of　mind。　He　would　pick　Roger　up　on　the　dot　of　six。　He　hung　up　wondering　if　he　would　end　up　telling　Roger　about　Donna　and　Steve　Kemp。　Probably　not。　Not　because　Roger's　advice　would　be　bad；　it　wouldn't　be。　But；　even　though　Roger　would　promise　not　to　tell　Althea；　he　most　certainly　would。　And　he　had　a　suspicion　that　Althea　would　find　it　difficult　to　resist　sharing　out　such　a　juicy　bit　of　bridge…table　gossip。　Such　careful　consideration　of　the　question　made　him　feel　depressed　all　over　again。　It　was　as　if；　by　trying　to　work　out　the　problem　between　them；　he　and　Donna　were　burying　their　own　body　by　moonlight。
'Good　old　Roger；'　he　said；　sitting　down　again。　He　tried　on　a　smile　but　it　felt　wrong。　The　moment　of　spontaneity　was　gone。
'Will　you　be　able　to　get　all　of　your　stuff　and　all　of　Roger's　into　the　jag？'
'Sure；'　he　said。　'We'll　have　to。　Althea　needs　their　car；　and　you've　got　…　oh；　shit；　I　pletely　forgot　to　call　Joe　Camber　about　your　Pinto。'
'You　had　a　few　other　things　on　your　mind；'　she　said。　'Mere　was　faint　irony　in　her　voice。　'That's　all　right。　I'm　not　going　to　send　Tad　to　the　playground　today。　He　has　the　sniffles。　I　may　keep　him　home　the　rest　of　the　summer；　if　that　suits　you。　I　get　into　trouble　when　he's　gone。'
There　were　tears　choking　her　voice；　squeezing　it　and　blurring　it；　and　he　didn't　know　what　to　say　or　how　to　respond。　He　watched　helplessly　as　she　found　a　Kleenex；　blew　her　nose；　wiped　her　eyes。
'Whatever；'　he　said；　shaken。　'Whatever　seems　best。'　He　rushed　on：　'Just　give　Camber　a　call。　He's　always　there；　and　I　don't　think　it　would　take　him　twenty　minutes　to　fix　it。　Even　if　he　has　to　put　in　another　carb　…'
'Will　you　think　about　it　while　you're　gone？'　she　asked。
'About　what　we're　going　to　do？　The　two　of　us？'
'Yes；'　he　said。
'Good。　I　will　too。　Another　waffle？'
'No；　thanks。'　The　whole　conversation　was　turning　surreal。　Suddenly　he　wanted　to　be　out　and　gone。　Suddenly　the　trip　felt　very　necessary　and　very　attractive。　The　idea　of　getting　away　from　the　whole　mess。　Putting　miles　between　him　and　it。　He　felt　a　sudden　jab　of　anticipation。　In　his　mind　he　could　see　the　Delta　jet　cutting　through　the　unraveling　fog　and　into　the　blue。
'Can　I　have　a　waffle？'
They　both　looked　around；　startled。　It　was　Tad；　standing　in　the　hallway　in　his　yellow　footy　pajamas；　his　stuffed　coyote　grasped　by　one　ear；　his　red　blanket　wrapped　around　his　shoulders。　He　looked　like　a　small；　sleepy　Indian。
'I　guess　I　could　rustle　one　up；'　Donna　said；　surprised。　Tad　was　not　a　notably　early　riser。
'Was　it　the　phone；　Tad？'　Vic　asked。
Tad　shook　his　head。　'I　made　myself　wake　up　early　so　I　could　say　good…bye　to　you；　Daddy。　Do　you　really　have　to　go？'
'It's　just　for　a　while。'
'It's　too　long；'　Tad　said　blackly。　'I　put　a　circle　around　the　day　you're　ing　home　on　my　calendar。　Mom　showed　me　which　one。　I'm　going　to　mark　off　every　day；　and　she　said　she'd　tell　me　the　Monster　Words　every　night。'
'Well；　that's　okay；　isn't　it？'
'Will　you　can？'
'Every　other　night；'　Vic　said。
'Every　night；'　Tad　insisted。　He　crawled　up　into　Vic's　lap　and　set　his　coyote　next　to　Vic's　plate。　Tad　began　to　crunch　up　a　piece　of　toast。　'Every　night；　Daddy。'
'I　can't　every　night；'　Vic　said；　thinking　of　the　backbreaking　schedule　Roger　had　laid　out　on　Friday；　before　the　letter　had　e。
'Why　not？'
'Because　…'
'Because　your　Uncle　Roger　is　a　hard　taskmaster；'　Donna　said；　Puffing　Tad's　waffle　On　the　table。　'e　on　over　here　and　eat。　Bring　your　coyote。　Daddy　will　call　us　tomorrow　night　from　Boston　and　tell　us　everything　that　happened　to　him。'
Tad　took　his　place　at　the　end　of　the　table。　He　had　a　large　plastic　placemat　that　said　TAD。　'Will　you　bring　me　a　toy？'
'Maybe。　If　you're　good。　And　maybe　I'll　call　tonight　so　you'll　know　I　got　to　Boston　in　one　piece。'
'Good　deal。'　Vic　watched；　fascinated；　as　Tad　poured　a　small　ocean　of　syrup　over　his　waffle。　'What　kind　of　toy？'
'We'll　see；'　Vic　said。　He　watched　Tad　eat　his　waffle。　It　suddenly　occurred　to　him　that　Tad　liked　eggs。　Scrambled；　friend；　poached；　or　hard…boiled；　Tad　gobbled　them　up。　'Tad？'
'What；　Daddy？'
'If　you　wanted　people　to　buy　eggs；　what　would　you　tell　them？'
Tad　considered。　'I'd　tell　em　eggs　taste　good；'　he　said。
Vic　met　his　wife's　eyes　again；　and　they　had　a　second　moment　like　the　one　that　had　occurred　when　the　phone　rang。　This　time　they　laughed　telepathically。
Their　good…byes　were　light。　Only　Tad；　with　his　imperfect　grasp　of　how　short　the　future　really　was；　cried。
'You'll　think　about　it？'　Donna　asked　him　again　as　he　climbed　into　the　jag。
'Yes。'
But　driving　into　Bridgton　to　get　Roger；　what　he　thought　about　were　those　two　moments　of　near…perfect　munication。　Two　in　one　morning；　not　bad。　All　it　took　was　eight　or　nine　years　together；　roughly　a　quarter　of　all　the　years　so　far　spent　on　the　face　of　the　earth。　He　got　thinking　about　how　ridiculous　the　whole　concept　of　human　munication　was　…　what　monstrous；　absurd　overkill　was　necessary　to　achieve　even　a　little。　When　you'd　invested　the　time　and　made　it　good；　you　had　to　he　careful。