sk.cujo-第23部分

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He　put　his　hand　on　her　shoulder。　He　dropped　it　to　one　of　her　breasts。　He　squeezed　it。　'e　on；'　he　said。　'I'm　horny。'
'Brett　…'
'He　won't　be　in　until　nine。　e　on。　Told　you；　you　can　go。　You　can　at　least　say　thanks；　can't　you？'
A　kind　of　cosmic　absurdity　rose　to　her　lips　and　had　passed　through　them　before　she　could　stop　it：　'Take　off　your　hat。'
He　sailed　it　heedlessly　across　the　kitchen。　He　was　smiling。　His　teeth　were　quite　yellow。　The　two　top　ones　in　front　were　dentures。　'If　we　had　the　money　now；　we　could　screw　on　a　bedful　of　greenbacks；'　he　said。　'I　saw　that　in　a　movie　once。'
He　took　her　upstairs　and　she　kept　expecting　him　to　turn　vicious；　but　he　didn't。　His　lovemaking　was　as　it　usually　was；　quick　and　hard；　but　he　was　not　vicious。　He　did　not　hurt　her　intentionally；　and　tonight；　for　perhaps　the　tenth　or　eleventh　time　since　they　had　been　married；　she　had　a　climax。　She　let　herself　go　to　him；　eyes　closed；　feeling　the　shelf　of　his　chin　dig　into　the　top　of　her　head。　She　stifled　the　cry　that　rose　to　her　lips。　It　would　have　made　him　suspicious　if　she　had　cried　out。
She　was　not　sure　he　really　knew　that　what　always　happened　at　the　end　for　men　sometimes　happened　for　women　too。
Not　long　after　（and　still　an　hour　before　Brett　came　home　from　the　Bergerons）　he　left　her；　not　telling　her　where　he　was　going。　She　surmised　it　was　down　to　Gary　Pervier's；　where　the　drinking　would　start。　She　lay　in　bed　and　wondered　if　what　she　had　done　and　what　she　had　promised　could　ever　be　worth　it。　Tears　tried　to　e　and　she　drove　them　back。　She　lay　hot…eyed　and　straight　in　bed；　and　just　before　Brett　came　in；　his　arrival　announced　by　Cujo's　barks　and　the　slam　of　the　back…door　screen；　the　moon　rose　in　all　its　silvery；　detached　glory。　Moon　doesn't　care；　Charity　thought；　but　the　thought　brought　her　no　fort。
'What　is　it？'　Donna　asked。
Her　voice　was　dull；　almost　defeated。　The　two　of　them　were　sitting　in　the　living　room。　Vic　had　not　gotten　home　until　nearly　Tad's　bedtime；　and　that　was　now　half　an　hour　past。　He　was　sleeping　in　his　room　upstairs；　the　Monster　Words　tacked　by　his　bed；　the　closet　door　firmly　shut。
Vic　got　up　and　crossed　to　the　window；　which　now　looked　out　only　on　darkness。　She　knows；　he　thought　glumly。　Not　the　fine　tuning；　maybe；　but　she's　getting　a　pretty　clear　picture。　All　the　way　home　he　had　tried　to　decide　if　he　should　confront　her　with　it；　lance　the　boil；　try　living　with　the　laudable　pus　。。。　or　if　he　should　just　deep…six　it。　After　leaving　Deering　Oaks　he　had　torn　the　letter　up；　and　on　his　way　home　up　302　he　had　fed　the　scraps　out　the　window。　Litterbug　Trenton；　he　thought。　And　now　the　choice　had　been　taken　out　of　his　hands。　He　could　see　her　pale　reflection　in　the　dark　glass；　her　face　a　white　circle　in　yellow　lamplight。
He　turned　toward　her；　having　absolutely　no　idea　what　he　was　going　to　say。
He　knows；　Donna　was　thinking。
It　was　not　a　new　thought；　not　by　now；　because　the　last　three　hours　had　been　the　longest　three　of　her　whole　life。　She　had　heard　the　knowledge　in　his　voice　when　he　called　to　say　he　would　he　home　late。　At　first　there　had　been　panic　…　the　raw；　fluttering　panic　of　a　bird　trapped　in　a　garage。　The　thought　had　been　in　italics　followed　by　ic…book　exclamation　points：　He　knows！　He　knows！　He　KNOWS！！　She　had　gotten　Tad　his　supper　in　a　fog　of　fear；　trying　to　see　what　might　logically　happen　next；　but　she　was　unable。　I'll　wash　the　dishes　next；　she　thought。　Then　dry　them。　Then　put　them　away。　Then　read　Tad　some　stories。　Then　I'll　just　sail　off　the　edge　of　the　world。
Panic　had　been　superseded　by　guilt。　Terror　had　followed　the　guilt。　Then　a　kind　of　fatalistic　apathy　had　settled　in　as　certain　emotional　circuits　quietly　shut　themselves　down。　The　apathy　was　even　tinged　by　a　certain　relief。　The　secret　was　out。　She　wondered　if　Steve　had　done　it；　or　if　Vic　had　guessed　on　his　own。　She　rather　thought　it　had　been　Steve；　but　it　didn't　really　matter。　There　was　also　relief　that　Tad　was　in　bed；　safely　asleep。　But　she　wondered　what　sort　of　morning　he　would　wake　up　to。　And　that　thought　brought　her　full　circle　to　her　original　panicky　fear　again。　She　felt　sick；　lost。
He　turned　toward　her　from　the　window　and　said；　'I　got　a　letter　today。　An　unsigned　letter。'
He　couldn't　finish。　He　crossed　the　room　again；　restlessly；　and　she　found　herself　thinking　what　a　handsome　man　he　was；　and　that　it　was　too　bad　he　was　going　gray　so　early。　It　looked　good　on　some　young　men；　but　on　Vic　it　was　just　going　to　make　him　look　prematurely　old　and　…　and　what　was　she　thinking　about　his　hair　for？　It　wasn't　his　hair　she　had　to　worry　about；　was　it？
Very　softly；　still　hearing　the　shake　in　her　voice；　she　said　everything　that　was　salient；　spitting　it　out　like　some　horrible　medicine　too　bitter　to　swallow。　'Steve　Kemp。　The　man　who　refinished　your　desk　in　the　den。　Five　times。　Never　in　our　bed；　Vic。　Never。'
Vic　put　out　his　hand　for　the　pack　of　Winstons　on　the　endtable　by　the　sofa　and　knocked　it　onto　the　floor。　He　picked　it　up；　got　one　out；　and　lit　it。　His　hands　were　shaking　badly。　They　weren't　looking　at　each　other。　That's　bad；　Donna　thought。　We　should　be　looking　at　each　other。　But　she　couldn't　be　the　one　to　start。　She　was　scared　and　ashamed。　He　was　only　scared。
'Why？'
'Does　it　matter？'
'It　matters　to　me。　It　means　a　lot。　Unless　you　want　to　cut　loose。　If　you　do；　I　guess　it　doesn't　matter。　I'm　mad　as　hell；　Donna。　I'm　trying　not　to　let　that　。。。　that　part　get　on　top；　because　if　we　never　talk　straight　again；　we　have　to　do　it　now。　Do　you　want　to　cut　loose？'
'Look　at　me；　Vic。'
With　a　great　effort；　he　did。　Maybe　he　was　as　mad　as　he　said　he　was；　but　she　could　see　only　species　of　miserable　fright。　Suddenly；　like　the　thud　of　a　boxing　glove　on　her　mouth；　she　saw　how　close　to　the　edge　of　everything　he　was。　The　agency　was　tottering；　that　was　bad　enough；　and　now；　on　top　of　that；　like　a　grisly　dessert　following　a　putrid　main　course；　his　marriage　was　tottering　too。　She　felt　a　rush　of　warmth　for　him；　for　this　man　she　had　sometimes　hated　and　had；　for　the　last　three　hours；　at　least；　feared。　A　kind　of　epiphany　filled　her。　Most　of　all；　she　hoped　he　would　always　think　he　had　been　as　mad　as　hell；　and　not。。。　not　the　way　his　face　said　he　felt。
'I　don't　want　to　cut　loose；'　she　said。　'I　love　you。　These　last　few　weeks　I　think　I've　just　found　that　out　again。'
He　looked　relieved　for　a　moment。　He　went　back　to　the　window；　then　returned　to　the　couch。　He　dropped　down　there　and　looked　at　her。
'Why；　then？'
The　epiphany　was　lost　in　low…key；　exasperated　anger。　Why；　it　was　a　man's　question。　Its　origin　lay　far　down　in　whatever　the　concept　of　masculinity　was　in　an　intelligent　late…twentieth…century　Western　man。　I　have　to　know　why　you　did　it。　As　if　she　were　a　car　with　a　stuck　needle　valve　that　had　caused　the　machine　to　start　hitching　and　sputtering　or　a　robot　that　had　gotten　its　servotapes　scrambled　so　that　it　was　serving　meatloaf　in　the　morning　and　scrambled　eggs　for　dinner。　What　drove　women　crazy；　she　thought　suddenly；　wasn't　really　sexism　at　all；　maybe。　It　was　this　mad；　masculine　quest　for　efficiency。
'I　don't　know　if　I　can　explain。　I'm　afraid　it　will　sound　stupid　and　petty　and　trivial。'
'Try。　Was　it。　。　。'He　cleared　his　throat；　seemed　to　mentally　spit　on　his　hands　（that　cursed　efficiency　thing　again）　and　then　fairly　wrenched　the　thing　out。　'Haven't　I　been　satisfying　you？　Was　that　it？'
'No；'　she　said。
'Then　what？'　he　said　helplessly。　'For　Christ's　sake；　what？'
Okay　。。。　you　asked　for　it。
'Fear；'　she　said。　'Mostly；　I　think　it　was　fear。'
'Fear？'
'When　Tad　went　to　school；　there　was　nothing　to　keep　me　from　being　afraid。　Tad　was　like。　。　what　do　they　call　it？　。。。　white　noise。　The　sound　the　TV　makes　when　it　isn't　tuned　to　a　station　that　es　in。'
'He　wasn't　in　real　school；'　Vic　said　quickly；　and　she　knew　he　was　getting　ready　to　be　angry；　getting　ready　to　accuse　her　of　trying　to　lay　it　off　on　Tad；　and　once　he　was　angry　things　would　e　out　between　them　that　shouldn't　be　spoken；　at　least　not　yet。　There　were　things；　being　the　woman　she　was；　that　she　would　have　to　rise　to。　The　situation　would　escalate。　Something　that　was　now　very　fragile　was　being　tossed　from　his　hands　to　hers　and　back　again。　It　could　easily　be　dropped。
'That　was　part　of　it；'　she　said。　'He　wasn't　in　real　school。　I　still　had　him　most　of　the　time；　and　the　time　when　he　was　gone　。