js&cs.thebridge-第20节

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　　〃Look　who's　talkin！〃　Gwen　called　back；　assessing　the　well…fed；　well…dressed；　absolutely　robust…looking　figure　that　approached　her；　bags　in　hand。　Hard　to　believe　that　this　was　the　same　old　Micki　Bridges。
　　Hard　to　believe　that　this　was　the　woman　who'd　been　given　less　than　six　months　to　live；　a　little　over　five　years　ago。
　　〃You　look　great！〃　Micki　reiterated；　closing　the　distance。
　　〃Bullshit。　You　look　great！〃
　　〃Bullshit；　you　。。。　！〃
　　And　then　they　were　laughing　and　embracing；　thrilled　to　be　in　one　another's　presence　once　again：　celebrating　the　one　true　friendship　that　had　lasted　them　all　their　lives。
　　〃So；〃　Micki　said　as　they　disengaged。　〃Where's　hubby？〃
　　〃He　got　called　in　to　work；〃　Gwen　said。
　　〃Oh。〃　Very　dryly。　〃What　a　surprise。〃
　　And　that；　of　course；　was　where　the　same　old　crap　started　up　all　over　again。
　　
　　The　main　bone　of　contention　between　them　had　always　hinged　on　their　tastes　in　men。　From　grade　school　on；　those　tastes　had　been　both　clearly　defined　and　mutually　exclusive。
　　Gwen　favored　earthy；　grounded；　extremely　physical　men：　guys　who　worked　with　heavy　machinery；　played　football；　rode　big　bikes；　went　white…water　rafting；　and　knocked　back　Buds　with　a　J。D。　chaser。　She　liked　men　with　big　hands；　steady　jobs；　and　massive；　sinewy；　bull…shaped　bodies；　men　with　fierce　loyalties；　fiery　passions；　and　healthy　appetites　that　she　could　trust　would　be　brought　home　to　her；　day　after　day　after　day。
　　Micki；　on　the　other　hand；　did　not　like　to　be　physically　overpowered　or　remotely　dependent。　Not　even　in　potentia。　Her　men　were　ropier；　substantially　shorter；　more　flighty　and　esoteric。　She　ate　up　musicians　like　truffles；　especially　sax　players。　Give　her　a　Juzo　Itami　film　festival；　a　little　Frank　Zappa　and　Baba　Ram　Dass；　good　Chablis；　great　conversation；　double　chocolate　Haagen…Dazs；　and　serious　head　for　an　hour；　you　could　then　gift…wrap　her　and　take　her　home。
　　But　rarely　for　more　than　a　week。
　　And　so　it　was　that　Gwen　wound　up　with　a　Harley…riding　engineer　eight　years　her　senior；　whom　she'd　lived　with　for　four　years　and　been　married　to　going　on　three；　and　with　whom　she　was　having　the　child　of　their　dreams。
　　And　Micki　wound　up　with　a　forty…thousand…year…old　spirit　entity　as　her　permanent　life…partner　and　male　panion。　Not　to　mention　a　handful　of　lovers　on　the　side。
　　Not　surprisingly；　Micki　and　Gwen　had　serious　problems　with　each　other's　picks；　though；　much　to　their　credit；　Gary　and　Bob…Ramtha　got　along　better　than　most　of　the　guys　they'd　introduced　to　each　other。　All　in　all；　it　was　the　most　absurd　aspect　of　their　relationship。
　　Because；　in　virtually　every　other　respect；　they　loved　and　admired　each　other　to　pieces。　Micki；　por　ejemplo；　was　smitten　with　Gwen's　emotional　honesty；　her　bone…deep　passion　and　sheer　innate　goodness；　her　automatic　and　essentially　unconditional　love　of　other　people。　Most　people　had　to　work　very　hard　for　the　kind　of　spirit　that　came　to　Gwen　naturally；　and　Micki　was　convinced　that　she　would　make　absolutely　the　best　mother　in　the　world。
　　Gwen；　conversely；　was　in　awe　of　Micki's　balls…out　courage；　in　everything　from　battling　her　cancer　to　standing　by　（and　profiting　from！）　her　unorthodox　lifestyle　decisions。　Gwen　thought　that；　with　the　possible　exception　of　Gary；　Micki　Bridges　was　the　strongest　person　she'd　ever　met。
　　In　fact；　as　Gwen　often　pointed　out；　Micki　and　Gary　were　an　awful　lot　alike。　They　both　insisted　on　living　life　entirely　on　their　own　terms。　Not　that　they　were　hard　to　get　along　with；　but　on　that　one　point；　they　were　utterly　inflexible。　You　could　not　persuade　them　to　violate　their　natures；　there　wasn't　enough　money　in　the　world　to　make　them　run　against　their　own　grains。
　　Which　was　probably　why　they　didn't　get　along。　They　were　just　too　goddam　similar。
　　〃I　don't　know　about　that；〃　Micki　said；　the　surprisingly　warm　highway　air　tousling　her　hair　through　the　moving　truck's　open　window。　〃But　I'll　tell　you　this。　I　didn't　e　all　the　way　out　here　to　sit　around　watching　football。〃
　　Gwen　laughed；　her　angst…sopping　mood　abolished。　〃Okay。　So　whaddaya　wanna　do？〃
　　〃I　was　thinking　。。。　〃　Drawing　the　pause　out　dramatically；　skrinching　her　hazel　eyes。　〃　。。。　since　it's　such　a　nice　day；　we　might　want　to　get　a　little；　you　know　。。。　lost　。。。　on　the　way　back。〃
　　Gwen　smiled　slyly。　〃You　knew　I　made　sandwiches；　didn't　you？〃
　　〃You're　awfully　predictable。〃
　　〃And　only　you　would　drag　a　pregnant　woman　who's　ready　to　burst　out　into　the　middle　of　nowhere。〃
　　〃You　mean　I'm　predictable；　too？〃　Micki　made　a　horror…stricken　g…force　face　and　they　laughed。　The　conspiracy　was　ripe。　Micki　got　serious　first。
　　〃You　sure　you're　gonna　be　okay？〃　she　asked。
　　〃Oh；　yeah；〃　Gwen　said。　〃I'm　a　tough　old　broad。〃
　　〃Okay。〃　Micki　braced　her　feet　against　the　dashboard。　〃Sam　Lewis？〃　she　asked。
　　〃Sam　Lewis；〃　Gwen　answered；　without　a　moment's　hesitation。
　　〃Let's　do　it。〃
　　〃Weeee…HA！〃　Gwen　hooted；　stomping　down　on　the　gas；　as　they　motored　down　old　Route　624　toward　Sam　Lewis　State　Park；　and　the　river　that　unwound　like　a　serpent　below。
　　
　　
　　　Fifteen
　　　
　　And　this　was　how　the　cookie　crumbled：
　　Blake　was　at　the　sautee　table　at　the　Lincoln　Woods　buffet　when　his　beeper　went　off。　He　jumped；　surprising　no　one　more　than　himself。
　　Okay；　he　thought；　gearing　up　for　the　worst。　He'd　certainly　known　it　was　ing。　He　was　just　slightly　appalled　with　himself　for　having　entertained　the　foolish　hope　that　it　wouldn't。
　　Stupid；　he　chastised　himself。　Hope　is　the　opiate　of　the　misinformed。
　　Blake　politely　excused　himself　from　his　wife　and　their　pany；　padded　through　the　thickly　carpeted　pastel　interior；　and　made　the　first　of　many　calls。
　　Blake　was　a　man　of　many　hats：　in　his　capacity　as　pointman　for　PEMA；　he　performed　mucho　munity　liaison。　He　was　the　Need　To　Know　man：　he　determined　who　needed　to　know；　what　they　needed　to　know；　and　when　they　needed　to　know　it。　When　it　came　to　local　industry；　no　story　was　released　in　either　print　or　broadcast　form　without　his　expressed　approval。
　　So　when　911　notified　PEMA　that　they　had　called　in　HazMat；　the　girl　at　the　PEMA　switchboard　paged　Blake　right　away。　He　got　her　story；　thanked　her　warmly；　hung　up；　and　dialed　again。
　　Two　minutes　on　the　phone　with　the　guys　from　HazMat；　and　Blake　knew　everything　he　needed　to　know。
　　It　was；　indeed；　a　can　of　worms；　and　it　was　about　to　open　right　into　his　lap。
　　Unless　he　got　out　of　the　way。
　　His　next　call　was　to　Leonard。　No　answer。　He　thought　for　a　moment；　men　spent　the　next　fifteen　minutes　doing　a　little　hole…plugging　in　advance。　EPA；　DER；　all　said　no　problem。　Everyone　would　hold　the　line。　No　need　to　incite　a　panic。　By　the　time　he　got　back　to　the　table；　they　were　already　on　dessert。
　　Not　to　worry；　he　assured　them。
　　He'd　already　had　more　than　his　fill。
　　
　　Down　at　the　Big　Boy；　Harold　Leonard　echoed　the　sentiment；　magnified　to　the　ninety…seventh　power。　His　plateful　of　silver…dollar　pancakes；　eggs；　and　link　sausage　lay　congealing　in　imitation　maple　syrup　before　him；　barely　touched。　He　couldn't　even　think　about　it。
　　He　was　thinking　about　the　future。
　　〃Daddy？〃　The　voice　bled　in　from　deepest　space；　from　the　seat　to　his　immediate　right。　〃Daddy？　Daddy！〃
　　Leonard　blinked；　came　back　to　the　earth　plane。　His　three…year…old；　Thea；　was　yanking　his　sleeve。　〃Yes；　honey？〃　he　said；　on　full　automatic；　the　words　a　split　second　ahead　of　him。
　　〃Daddy；〃　she　scolded；　〃I　learned　a　new　song　today！〃
　　〃Ah。　Heh…heh；〃　he　said；　his　eyes　quickly　scanning　the　table。　Marge　was　busy　feeding　Wally　and　Timmy；　the　toddler　twins；　it　was　a　task　that　demanded　her　total　concentration。　Teenage　Brad　and　Jerry　were　tormenting　little　Harold；　Jr。　at　the　far　end　of　the　table；　probably　about　his　ears。　Little　Harold　looked　precisely　like　his　father　felt：　teetering　on　the　brink　of　tears。
　　〃You　want　to　hear　it；〃　Thea　told　him；　her　pudgy　little　features　a　frightening　parody　of　his　own。　He　felt　haunted　by　her　shining　eyes；　the　absolute　lack　of　empathy　in　them。　She　had　no　idea　what　was　going　on　inside　him。　None　whatsoever。　None　of　them　did。
　　〃'I　know　you；　I　walk　with　you　wunnsa　ponna　dream；'〃　she　sang。
　　〃Not　right　now；　honey；〃　he　said；　his　panic　rising。　The　chinkling　of　silver；　the　inchoate　gurble　of　voices；　the　featureless　Muzak；　and　cholesterol　smells　collided　in　his　head。　He　winced　against　the　strobing　fluorescent　plastic　orange　decor。
　　〃No；　Daddy！〃　Her　eyes；　in　his　face；　were　huge。　〃It's　Seeping　Booty！　Listen！　'I　know　you；　the　geamin　your　eyes　is　sofer　million　a　gream　。。。　'〃　When　her　voice　raked　the　high　notes；　it　bore　a　drill　bit　through　his　skull。
　　Timmy　was　laughing。　Wally　was　screaming。　Marge　was　cooing　now　now　now；　over　and　over。　Now　now　now。
　　〃'　。。。　An'　I　know　its　true；　I　feenal　my　selpis　alba　sleem　。。。　'〃
　　〃Excuse　me；〃　he　blurted；　the　tears　welling　up　now；　his　face　hot　and　clammy　as　he　skreeed　back　in　his　chair。　〃Excuse　me；〃　he　repeated；　standing；　all　eyes　upon　him　at　last　as　he　turned　away　quickly；　ashamed　of　himself；　and　headed　for　the　men's　room。　The　Muzak；　the　sound　of　other　people's　families　chased　him；　dogged　him　across　the　restaurant。
　　There　was　a　vacant　bank　of　phones　in　the　narrow　access　corridor。　It　was　there　that　he　chose　to　break　down