[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
pa-per pla-tes, any-way?"
"Throwing them out-si-de."
Page 33
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"But Teddy, that's lit-te-ring!"
I po-in-ted to the win-dow. "Do you think it re-al-ly mat-ters at this
po-int?"
"I gu-ess not. Don't sup-po-se Smoky the Be-ar will be sho-wing up
any-ti-me so-on."
He was right abo-ut one thing, tho-ugh. It had be-en a go-od me-al. Damn
go-od. And now I was cra-ving so-me to-bac-co aga-in. I think the ni-co-ti-ne
de-si-re is at its very worst af-ter you've eaten.
To dist-ract myself, I cle-ared the pa-per pla-tes and Styro-fo-am bowls
from the tab-le and put them in the trash. I'd be-en car-rying the gar-ba-ge
bags down to the tree li-ne on-ce a we-ek, and tos-sing them in-to the
fo-rest.
Broke my he-art to do so be-ca-use, li-ke Carl had sa-id, it was
lit-te-ring.
But I co-uldn't just let it pi-le up in-si-de the ho-use, and bur-ning it
out-si-de li-ke I used to do just wasn't pos-sib-le any-mo-re.
Carl rub-bed his arth-ri-tic knee. "So, if the Na-ti-onal Gu-ard to-ok all
tho-se folks to Whi-te Sulp-hur Springs, you rec-kon we sho-uld ma-ke our way
the-re too?"
"You still got that old bass bo-at we used to ta-ke down the
Gre-enb-ri-er?"
He sho-ok his he-ad. "No, I sold it to Billy An-der-son for fifty bucks
and few rolls of hay."
"Sounds li-ke you rip-ped Billy off."
"He didn't ha-ve no comp-la-ints."
"Well, wit-ho-ut the bo-at, I don't know how we'd ma-ke it. Truth-ful-ly,
I do-ubt the-re's much left in Whi-te Sulp-hur Springs, any-way. Re-mem-ber,
it's in a val-ley."
"You rec-kon that it's un-der-wa-ter then?"
"Not one hund-red per-cent su-re, mind you, but ye-ah, I wo-uld gu-ess so.
I'm pretty su-re everyt-hing el-se is flo-oded, ex-cept up he-re on top of the
mo-un-ta-in."
"So it's just us. And the wa-ters are ri-sing." His vo-ice so-un-ded very
small and qu-i-et. And af-ra-id. It ec-ho-ed the sa-me ho-pe-les-sness I felt
de-ep down in my he-art.
"No." I tri-ed to smi-le. "It's not just us. We've still got Earl to ke-ep
us com-pany. Rec-kon he'll co-me over and apo-lo-gi-ze for his ru-de
be-ha-vi-or?"
Carl ma-de a fa-ce li-ke he'd just bit in-to a le-mon, whi-le Ske-eter
Da-vis sang to us from my lit-tle ste-reo. She was sin-ging abo-ut the end of
the world.
Time pas-sed. It was a go-od night-the first go-od night eit-her of us had
enj-oyed in a long ti-me. I lent Carl a pa-ir of my pa-j-amas and ha-uled out
the deck of cards. We sta-yed up la-te pla-ying po-ker and blac-kj-ack and war
and he-arts, and switc-hed back and forth bet-we-en the co-untry mu-sic ta-pe
and the ra-dio di-al, ho-ping aga-inst ho-pe to he-ar so-met-hing ot-her than
sta-tic.
But we didn't. Just the whi-te no-ise of de-ad air and the ra-in co-ming
down out-si-de.
Always the ra-in.
We tal-ked a lot-abo-ut our mis-sing fri-ends and cars and po-li-tics and
fo-ot-ball, and how the-re pro-bably wo-uldn't be any of tho-se things
any-mo-re. I think that was what re-al-ly bro-ught it all ho-me to Carl; how
he wo-uldn't be ab-le to watch anot-her West Vir-gi-nia Mo-un-ta-ine-ers ga-me
next se-ason. We tal-ked abo-ut hun-ting and fis-hing vic-to-ri-es of the
past, of our glory days be-fo-re we got mar-ri-ed, of our wi-ves and wo-men
we'd known be-fo-re our wi-ves, and even-tu-al-ly the war.
We both grew pretty ma-ud-lin af-ter that, and when Carl far-ted, it
bro-ke the ten-si-on li-ke a sled-ge-ham-mer thro-ugh glass. I la-ug-hed till
I tho-ught I'd ha-ve a he-art at-tack, and Carl la-ug-hed, too, and it felt
Page 34
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
go-od. It felt re-al.
We tal-ked la-te in-to the night, bat-hed in the soft glow of the
ke-ro-se-ne lamp. I who-oped Carl's butt at cards.
The two things we didn't talk abo-ut we-re what we'd se-en ear-li-er at
Da-ve and Nancy's ho-use and the ho-les that we'd fo-und. The worm-ho-les, as
I'd ta-ken to thin-king of them, even tho-ugh God had ne-ver ma-de worms that
big.
We went to sle-ep long af-ter mid-night. I fi-xed up the bed in the spa-re
ro-om, and ga-ve Carl an ext-ra flash-light so he co-uld see his way aro-und.
Then I went out on the back porch and pis-sed. The ra-in had bac-ked up
the se-epa-ge bed, ma-king the to-ilet use-less, and I didn't fe-el li-ke
ma-king the hi-ke to the out-ho-use.
It was pitch black out-si-de, and I co-uldn't even see my hand in front of
my fa-ce. I tho-ught I he-ard a wet, squ-elc-hing so-und from so-mew-he-re in
the dark-ness. I fro-ze. My bre-ath ca-ught in my thro-at and my pe-nis
shri-ve-led in my hand li-ke a frigh-te-ned turt-le. But when I coc-ked my
he-ad and lis-te-ned aga-in, all I he-ard was the ra-in.
Shivering, I sho-ok myself off and hur-ri-ed back in-si-de. I ma-de su-re
the do-or was loc-ked, and then I do-ub-le chec-ked it.
On my way down the hall to my bed-ro-om I stop-ped at Carl's do-or to
ma-ke su-re he didn't ne-ed anyt-hing el-se. I ra-ised my fist to knock, then
pa-used. His vo-ice was muf-fled, and at first, I tho-ught he was tal-king to
so-me-body. Then I re-ali-zed Carl was sin-ging Ske-eter Da-vis's "The End of
the World."
"Don't they know it's the end of the world? It en-ded when you sa-id
go-od-bye."
His cro-oning still hadn't imp-ro-ved. Carl so-un-ded li-ke a cat with its
ta-il plug-ged in-to an elect-ri-cal soc-ket, but it was the most be-a-uti-ful
and sad thing I'd he-ard in so-me ti-me. A lump swel-led in my thro-at.
Instead of knoc-king on the do-or, I shuf-fled off to bed. I clim-bed
un-der the blan-kets and lay the-re in the dark-ness, cra-ving ni-co-ti-ne and
mis-sing my wi-fe.
It was a long ti-me be-fo-re I slept.
When I fi-nal-ly did, Ro-se ca-me to vi-sit me.
In the dre-am, I wo-ke up to find that the ho-use had flo-oded.
Everyt-hing was un-der-wa-ter and my bed flo-ated on the sur-fa-ce, gently
roc-king back and forth. The wa-ter le-vel grew hig-her, and my bed ro-se with
it. I had to duck my he-ad to ke-ep from hit-ting it on the ce-iling. The bed
swa-yed.
I hol-le-red for Carl, but he didn't ans-wer. I shif-ted on the mat-tress,
and the sud-den mo-ve-ment ca-used the bed to tilt, spil-ling me in-to the
wa-ter. I plun-ged down-ward to the car-pet and ope-ned my eyes.
Rose sta-red back at me, as be-a-uti-ful and lo-vely as the first ti-me
we'd met. Her night-gown flo-ated aro-und her, the sa-me one she'd be-en
we-aring when she di-ed.
She ope-ned her mo-uth and sang. Each word was crystal cle-ar, even
tho-ugh we we-re un-der-wa-ter. That's just the way it is in dre-ams.
"I can't un-ders-tand, no, I can't un-ders-tand how li-fe go-es on the way
it do-es."
Skeeter Da-vis. She was sin-ging the sa-me song that Carl had be-en
sin-ging be-fo-re bed.
"I miss you, Ro-sie," I sa-id, and bub-bles ca-me out of my mo-uth. But
des-pi-te that, I wasn't drow-ning.
"I miss you, too, Teddy. It's be-en hard to watch what you're go-ing
thro-ugh."
"What? An old man, fo-oling with cros-sword puz-zles and trying to
fi-gu-re out a three-let-ter word for pec-ca-dil-lo? Af-ra-id to go out in-to
the ra-in be-ca-use he might catch pne-umo-nia? Ye-ah, I rec-kon that wo-uld
be hard to watch. Must be pretty bo-ring."
"That's not what I'm tal-king abo-ut and you know it. Don't you know it's
Page 35
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the end of the world?"
"No, it's not," I told her. "It en-ded when you sa-id go-od-bye, Ro-sie. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szkicerysunki.xlx.pl
pa-per pla-tes, any-way?"
"Throwing them out-si-de."
Page 33
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"But Teddy, that's lit-te-ring!"
I po-in-ted to the win-dow. "Do you think it re-al-ly mat-ters at this
po-int?"
"I gu-ess not. Don't sup-po-se Smoky the Be-ar will be sho-wing up
any-ti-me so-on."
He was right abo-ut one thing, tho-ugh. It had be-en a go-od me-al. Damn
go-od. And now I was cra-ving so-me to-bac-co aga-in. I think the ni-co-ti-ne
de-si-re is at its very worst af-ter you've eaten.
To dist-ract myself, I cle-ared the pa-per pla-tes and Styro-fo-am bowls
from the tab-le and put them in the trash. I'd be-en car-rying the gar-ba-ge
bags down to the tree li-ne on-ce a we-ek, and tos-sing them in-to the
fo-rest.
Broke my he-art to do so be-ca-use, li-ke Carl had sa-id, it was
lit-te-ring.
But I co-uldn't just let it pi-le up in-si-de the ho-use, and bur-ning it
out-si-de li-ke I used to do just wasn't pos-sib-le any-mo-re.
Carl rub-bed his arth-ri-tic knee. "So, if the Na-ti-onal Gu-ard to-ok all
tho-se folks to Whi-te Sulp-hur Springs, you rec-kon we sho-uld ma-ke our way
the-re too?"
"You still got that old bass bo-at we used to ta-ke down the
Gre-enb-ri-er?"
He sho-ok his he-ad. "No, I sold it to Billy An-der-son for fifty bucks
and few rolls of hay."
"Sounds li-ke you rip-ped Billy off."
"He didn't ha-ve no comp-la-ints."
"Well, wit-ho-ut the bo-at, I don't know how we'd ma-ke it. Truth-ful-ly,
I do-ubt the-re's much left in Whi-te Sulp-hur Springs, any-way. Re-mem-ber,
it's in a val-ley."
"You rec-kon that it's un-der-wa-ter then?"
"Not one hund-red per-cent su-re, mind you, but ye-ah, I wo-uld gu-ess so.
I'm pretty su-re everyt-hing el-se is flo-oded, ex-cept up he-re on top of the
mo-un-ta-in."
"So it's just us. And the wa-ters are ri-sing." His vo-ice so-un-ded very
small and qu-i-et. And af-ra-id. It ec-ho-ed the sa-me ho-pe-les-sness I felt
de-ep down in my he-art.
"No." I tri-ed to smi-le. "It's not just us. We've still got Earl to ke-ep
us com-pany. Rec-kon he'll co-me over and apo-lo-gi-ze for his ru-de
be-ha-vi-or?"
Carl ma-de a fa-ce li-ke he'd just bit in-to a le-mon, whi-le Ske-eter
Da-vis sang to us from my lit-tle ste-reo. She was sin-ging abo-ut the end of
the world.
Time pas-sed. It was a go-od night-the first go-od night eit-her of us had
enj-oyed in a long ti-me. I lent Carl a pa-ir of my pa-j-amas and ha-uled out
the deck of cards. We sta-yed up la-te pla-ying po-ker and blac-kj-ack and war
and he-arts, and switc-hed back and forth bet-we-en the co-untry mu-sic ta-pe
and the ra-dio di-al, ho-ping aga-inst ho-pe to he-ar so-met-hing ot-her than
sta-tic.
But we didn't. Just the whi-te no-ise of de-ad air and the ra-in co-ming
down out-si-de.
Always the ra-in.
We tal-ked a lot-abo-ut our mis-sing fri-ends and cars and po-li-tics and
fo-ot-ball, and how the-re pro-bably wo-uldn't be any of tho-se things
any-mo-re. I think that was what re-al-ly bro-ught it all ho-me to Carl; how
he wo-uldn't be ab-le to watch anot-her West Vir-gi-nia Mo-un-ta-ine-ers ga-me
next se-ason. We tal-ked abo-ut hun-ting and fis-hing vic-to-ri-es of the
past, of our glory days be-fo-re we got mar-ri-ed, of our wi-ves and wo-men
we'd known be-fo-re our wi-ves, and even-tu-al-ly the war.
We both grew pretty ma-ud-lin af-ter that, and when Carl far-ted, it
bro-ke the ten-si-on li-ke a sled-ge-ham-mer thro-ugh glass. I la-ug-hed till
I tho-ught I'd ha-ve a he-art at-tack, and Carl la-ug-hed, too, and it felt
Page 34
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
go-od. It felt re-al.
We tal-ked la-te in-to the night, bat-hed in the soft glow of the
ke-ro-se-ne lamp. I who-oped Carl's butt at cards.
The two things we didn't talk abo-ut we-re what we'd se-en ear-li-er at
Da-ve and Nancy's ho-use and the ho-les that we'd fo-und. The worm-ho-les, as
I'd ta-ken to thin-king of them, even tho-ugh God had ne-ver ma-de worms that
big.
We went to sle-ep long af-ter mid-night. I fi-xed up the bed in the spa-re
ro-om, and ga-ve Carl an ext-ra flash-light so he co-uld see his way aro-und.
Then I went out on the back porch and pis-sed. The ra-in had bac-ked up
the se-epa-ge bed, ma-king the to-ilet use-less, and I didn't fe-el li-ke
ma-king the hi-ke to the out-ho-use.
It was pitch black out-si-de, and I co-uldn't even see my hand in front of
my fa-ce. I tho-ught I he-ard a wet, squ-elc-hing so-und from so-mew-he-re in
the dark-ness. I fro-ze. My bre-ath ca-ught in my thro-at and my pe-nis
shri-ve-led in my hand li-ke a frigh-te-ned turt-le. But when I coc-ked my
he-ad and lis-te-ned aga-in, all I he-ard was the ra-in.
Shivering, I sho-ok myself off and hur-ri-ed back in-si-de. I ma-de su-re
the do-or was loc-ked, and then I do-ub-le chec-ked it.
On my way down the hall to my bed-ro-om I stop-ped at Carl's do-or to
ma-ke su-re he didn't ne-ed anyt-hing el-se. I ra-ised my fist to knock, then
pa-used. His vo-ice was muf-fled, and at first, I tho-ught he was tal-king to
so-me-body. Then I re-ali-zed Carl was sin-ging Ske-eter Da-vis's "The End of
the World."
"Don't they know it's the end of the world? It en-ded when you sa-id
go-od-bye."
His cro-oning still hadn't imp-ro-ved. Carl so-un-ded li-ke a cat with its
ta-il plug-ged in-to an elect-ri-cal soc-ket, but it was the most be-a-uti-ful
and sad thing I'd he-ard in so-me ti-me. A lump swel-led in my thro-at.
Instead of knoc-king on the do-or, I shuf-fled off to bed. I clim-bed
un-der the blan-kets and lay the-re in the dark-ness, cra-ving ni-co-ti-ne and
mis-sing my wi-fe.
It was a long ti-me be-fo-re I slept.
When I fi-nal-ly did, Ro-se ca-me to vi-sit me.
In the dre-am, I wo-ke up to find that the ho-use had flo-oded.
Everyt-hing was un-der-wa-ter and my bed flo-ated on the sur-fa-ce, gently
roc-king back and forth. The wa-ter le-vel grew hig-her, and my bed ro-se with
it. I had to duck my he-ad to ke-ep from hit-ting it on the ce-iling. The bed
swa-yed.
I hol-le-red for Carl, but he didn't ans-wer. I shif-ted on the mat-tress,
and the sud-den mo-ve-ment ca-used the bed to tilt, spil-ling me in-to the
wa-ter. I plun-ged down-ward to the car-pet and ope-ned my eyes.
Rose sta-red back at me, as be-a-uti-ful and lo-vely as the first ti-me
we'd met. Her night-gown flo-ated aro-und her, the sa-me one she'd be-en
we-aring when she di-ed.
She ope-ned her mo-uth and sang. Each word was crystal cle-ar, even
tho-ugh we we-re un-der-wa-ter. That's just the way it is in dre-ams.
"I can't un-ders-tand, no, I can't un-ders-tand how li-fe go-es on the way
it do-es."
Skeeter Da-vis. She was sin-ging the sa-me song that Carl had be-en
sin-ging be-fo-re bed.
"I miss you, Ro-sie," I sa-id, and bub-bles ca-me out of my mo-uth. But
des-pi-te that, I wasn't drow-ning.
"I miss you, too, Teddy. It's be-en hard to watch what you're go-ing
thro-ugh."
"What? An old man, fo-oling with cros-sword puz-zles and trying to
fi-gu-re out a three-let-ter word for pec-ca-dil-lo? Af-ra-id to go out in-to
the ra-in be-ca-use he might catch pne-umo-nia? Ye-ah, I rec-kon that wo-uld
be hard to watch. Must be pretty bo-ring."
"That's not what I'm tal-king abo-ut and you know it. Don't you know it's
Page 35
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the end of the world?"
"No, it's not," I told her. "It en-ded when you sa-id go-od-bye, Ro-sie. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]