sk.everythingseventual-第105部分

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cktail　lounges　to　support　us。　The　time　she　took　the　day　off　work　to　talk　to　the　ADC　man；　her　dressed　in　her　best　pants　suit；　him　sitting　in　our　kitchen　rocker　in　a　suit　of　his　own；　one　even　a　nine…year…old　kid　like　me　could　tell　was　a　lot　better　than　hers；　with　a　clipboard　in　his　lap　and　a　fat；　shiny　pen　in　his　fingers。　Her　answering　the　insulting；　embarrassing　questions　he　asked　with　a　fixed　smile　on　her　mouth；　even　offering　him　more　coffee；　because　if　he　turned　in　the　right　report　she'd　get　an　extra　fifty　dollars　a　month；　a　lousy　fifty　bucks。　Lying　on　her　bed　after　he'd　gone；　crying；　and　when　I　came　in　to　sit　beside　her　she　had　tried　to　smile　and　said　ADC　didn't　stand　for　Aid　to　Dependent　Children　but　Awful　Damn　Crapheads。　I　had　laughed　and　then　she　laughed；　too；　because　you　had　to　laugh；　we'd　found　that　out。　When　it　was　just　you　and　your　fat　chain…smoking　Ma　against　the　world；　laughing　was　quite　often　the　only　way　you　could　get　through　without　going　insane　and　beating　your　fists　on　the　walls。　But　there　was　more　to　it　than　that；　you　know。　For　people　like　us；　little　people　who　went　scurrying　through　the　world　like　mice　in　a　cartoon；　sometimes　laughing　at　the　assholes　was　the　only　revenge　you　could　ever　get。　Her　working　all　those　jobs　and　taking　the　overtime　and　taping　her　ankles　when　they　swelled　and　putting　her　tips　away　in　a　jar　marked　ALAN'S　COLLEGE　FUND…just　like　one　of　those　dopey　rags…to…riches　stories；　yeah；　yeah…and　telling　me　again　and　again　that　I　had　to　work　hard；　other　kids　could　maybe　afford　to　play　Freddy　Fuckaround　at　school　but　I　couldn't　because　she　could　put　away　her　tips　until　doomsday　cracked　and　there　still　wouldn't　be　enough；　in　the　end　it　was　going　to　e　down　to　scholarships　and　loans　if　I　was　going　to　go　to　college　and　I　had　to　go　to　college　because　it　was　the　only　way　out　for　me　。　。　。　and　for　her。　So　I　had　worked　hard；　you　want　to　believe　I　did；　because　I　wasn't　blind…I　saw　how　heavy　she　was；　I　saw　how　much　she　smoked　（it　was　her　only　private　pleasure　。　。　。　her　only　vice；　if　you're　one　of　those　who　must　take　that　view）；　and　I　knew　that　someday　our　positions　would　reverse　and　I'd　be　the　one　taking　care　of　her。　With　a　college　education　and　a　good　job；　maybe　I　could　do　that。　I　wanted　to　do　that。　I　loved　her。　She　had　a　fierce　temper　and　an　ugly　mouth　on　her…that　day　we　waited　for　the　Bullet　and　then　I　chickened　out　wasn't　the　only　time　she　ever　yelled　at　me　and　then　swatted　me…but　I　loved　her　in　spite　of　it。　Partly　even　because　of　it。　I　loved　her　when　she　hit　me　as　much　as　when　she　kissed　me。　Do　you　understand　that？　Me　either。　And　that's　all　right。　I　don't　think　you　can　sum　up　lives　or　explain　families；　and　we　were　a　family；　she　and　I；　the　smallest　family　there　is；　a　shared　secret。　If　you　had　asked；　I　would　have　said　I'd　do　anything　for　her。　And　now　that　was　exactly　what　I　was　being　asked　to　do。　I　was　being　asked　to　die　for　her；　to　die　in　her　place；　even　though　she　had　lived　half　her　life；　probably　a　lot　more。　I　had　hardly　begun　mine。
　　'What　say；　Al？'　George　Staub　asked。　'Time's　wasting。'
　　'I　can't　decide　something　like　that；'　I　said　hoarsely。　The　moon　sailed　above　the　road；　swift　and　brilliant。　'It's　not　fair　to　ask　me。'
　　'I　know；　and　believe　me；　that's　what　they　all　say。'　Then　he　lowered　his　voice。　'But　I　gotta　tell　you　something…if　you　don't　decide　by　the　time　we　get　back　to　the　first　house…lights；　I'll　have　to　take　you　both。'　He　frowned；　then　brightened　again；　as　if　remembering　there　was　good　news　as　well　as　bad。　'You　could　ride　together　in　the　back…seat　if　I　took　you　both；　talk　over　old　times；　there's　that。'
　　'Ride　to　where？'
　　He　didn't　reply。　Perhaps　he　didn't　know。
　　The　trees　blurred　by　like　black　ink。　The　headlights　rushed　and　the　road　rolled。　I　was　twenty…one。　I　wasn't　a　virgin　but　I'd　only　been　with　a　girl　once　and　I'd　been　drunk　and　couldn't　remember　much　of　what　it　had　been　like。　There　were　a　thousand　places　I　wanted　to　go…Los　Angeles；　Tahiti；　maybe　Luckenbach；　Texas…and　a　thousand　things　I　wanted　to　do。　My　mother　was　forty…eight　and　that　was　old；　goddammit。　Mrs。　McCurdy　wouldn't　say　so　but　Mrs。　McCurdy　was　old　herself。　My　mother　had　done　right　by　me；　worked　all　those　long　hours　and　taken　care　of　me；　but　had　I　chosen　her　life　for　her？　Asked　to　be　born　and　then　demanded　that　she　live　for　me？　She　was　forty…eight。　I　was　twenty…one。　I　had；　as　they　said；　my　whole　life　before　me。　But　was　that　the　way　you　judged？　How　did　you　decide　a　thing　like　this？　How　could　you　decide　a　thing　like　this？
　　The　woods　bolting　by。　The　moon　looking　down　like　a　bright　and　deadly　eye。
　　'Better　hurry　up；　man；'　George　Staub　said。　'We're　running　out　of　wilderness。'
　　I　opened　my　mouth　and　tried　to　speak。　Nothing　came　out　but　an　arid　sigh。
　　'Here；　got　just　the　thing；'　he　said；　and　reached　behind　him。　His　shirt　pulled　up　again　and　I　got　another　look　（I　could　have　done　without　it）　at　the　stitched　black　line　on　his　belly。　Were　there　still　guts　behind　that　line　or　just　packing　soaked　in　chemicals？　When　he　brought　his　hand　back；　he　had　a　can　of　beer　in　it…one　of　those　he'd　bought　at　the　state　line　store　on　his　last　ride；　presumably。
　　'I　know　how　it　is；'　he　said。　'Stress　gets　you　dry　in　the　mouth。　Here。'
　　He　handed　me　the　can。　I　took　it；　pulled　the　ringtab；　and　drank　deeply。　The　taste　of　the　beer　going　down　was　cold　and　bitter。　I've　never　had　a　beer　since。　I　just　can't　drink　it。　I　can　barely　stand　to　watch　the　mercials　on　TV。
　　Ahead　of　us　in　the　blowing　dark；　a　yellow　light　glimmered。
　　'Hurry　up；　Al…got　to　speed　it　up。　That's　the　first　house；　right　up　at　the　top　of　this　hill。　If　you　got　something　to　say　to　me；　you　better　say　it　now。'
　　The　light　disappeared；　then　came　back　again；　only　now　it　was　several　lights。　They　were　windows。　Behind　them　were　ordinary　people　doing　ordinary　things…watching　TV；　feeding　the　cat；　maybe　beating　off　in　the　bathroom。
　　I　thought　of　us　standing　in　line　at　Thrill　Village；　Jean　and　Alan　Parker；　a　big　woman　with　dark　patches　of　sweat　around　the　armpits　of　her　sundress；　and　her　little　boy。　She　hadn't　wanted　to　stand　in　that　line；　Staub　was　right　about　that　。　。　。　but　I　had　pestered　pestered　pestered。　He　had　been　right　about　that；　too。　She　had　swatted　me；　but　she　had　stood　in　line　with　me；　too。　She　had　stood　with　me　in　a　lot　of　lines；　and　I　could　go　over　all　of　it　again；　all　the　arguments　pro　and　con；　but　there　was　no　time。
　　'Take　her；'　I　said　as　the　lights　of　the　first　house　swept　toward　the　Mustang。　My　voice　was　hoarse　and　raw　and　loud。　'Take　her；　take　my　Ma；　don't　take　me。'
　　I　threw　the　can　of　beer　down　on　the　floor　of　the　car　and　put　my　hands　up　to　my　face。　He　touched　me　then；　touched　the　front　of　my　shirt；　his　fingers　fumbling；　and　I　thought…with　sudden　brilliant　clarity…that　it　had　all　been　a　test。　I　had　failed　and　now　he　was　going　to　rip　my　beating　heart　right　out　of　my　chest；　like　an　evil　djinn　in　one　of　those　cruel　Arabian　fairy…tales。　I　screamed。　Then　his　fingers　let　go…it　was　as　if　he'd　changed　his　mind　at　the　last　second…and　he　reached　past　me。　For　one　moment　my　nose　and　lungs　were　so　full　of　his　deathly　smell　that　I　felt　positive　I　was　dead　myself。　Then　there　was　the　click　of　the　door　opening　and　cold　fresh　air　came　streaming　in；　washing　the　death…smell　away。
　　'Pleasant　dreams；　Al；'　he　grunted　in　my　ear　and　then　pushed。　I　went　rolling　out　into　the　windy　October　darkness　with　my　eyes　closed　and　my　hands　raised　and　my　body　tensed　for　the　bone…breaking　smashdown。　I　might　have　been　screaming；　I　don't　remember　for　sure。
　　The　smashdown　didn't　e　and　after　an　endless　moment　I　realized　I　was　already　down…I　could　feel　the　ground　under　me。　I　opened　my　eyes；　then　squeezed　them　shut　almost　at　once。　The　glare　of　the　moon　was　blinding。　It　sent　a　bolt　of　pain　through　my　head；　one　that　settled　not　behind　my　eyes；　where　you　usually　feel　pain　after　staring　into　an　unexpectedly　bright　light；　but　in　the　back；　way　down　low　just　above　the　nape　of　my　neck。　I　became　aware　that　my　legs　and　bottom　were　cold　and　wet。　I　didn't　care。　I　was　on　the　ground；　and　that　was　all　I　cared　about。
　　I　pushed　up　on　my　elbows　and　opened　my　eyes　again；　more　cautiously　this　time。　I　think　I　already　knew　where　I　was；　and　one　look　around　was　enough　to　confirm　it：　lying　on　m