cb.coldheart canyon-第20节

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　two　days？'〃
　 Now　it　was　Marco　who　laughed。　〃Wail　like　a　girl？〃
　 〃That's　how　I　feel。　I　feel　like　I'm　in　the　middle　of　some　stupid　weepie。〃
　 〃Maybe　you　should　call　Wilhemina　over　and　fuck　her。〃
　 〃Wilhemina　doesn't　do　fucks。　She　does　lovemaking　with　candles　and　a　lot　of　wash…clothes。　I　swear　she　drinks　I'm　going　to　give　her　something。〃
　 〃Fleas？〃
　 〃Yeah。　Fleas。　You　know；　as　a　last　act　of　rebellion　on　behalf　of　Dempsey　and　myself　I'd　like　to　give　fleas　to　Wilhemina；　Maxine　and…〃
　 〃Gary　Eppstadt。〃
　 Both　men　were　laughing　now；　curing　the　hurt　the　only　way　it　could　be　cured；　by　being　included　in　the　nature　of　things。
　
　 Speaking　of　inclusion；　he　got　a　call　from　his　mother；　about　six　o'clock。　She　was　at　home　in　Cambridge　Massachusetts；　but　sounded　ready　to　jump　the　first　plane　and　e　visit。　She　was　in　one　of　her　'I've　a　funny　feeling'　moods。
　 〃What's　going　on？〃
　 〃Nothing。〃
　 〃Yes　there　is。〃
　 She　was　inevitably　right；　she　could　predict　with　startling　accuracy　the　times　she　needed　to　call　her　famous　son　and　the　times　when　she　should　keep　her　distance。　Sometimes　he　could　lie　to　her；　and　get　away　with　it。　But　today　wasn't　one　of　those　days。　What　was　the　point？
　 〃Dempsey's　dead。〃
　 〃That　old　mutt　of　yours。〃
　 〃He　was　not　an　old　mutt　and　if　you　talk　about　him　like　that　then　this　conversation　ends　right　here。〃
　 〃How　old　was　he？〃　Patricia　asked。
　 〃Eleven；　going　on　twelve。〃
　 〃That's　a　decent　age。〃
　 〃Not　for　a　dog　like　him。〃
　 〃What　kind　of　dog　would　that　be？〃
　 〃You　know…〃
　 〃A　mutt。　Mutt's　always　live　longer　than　thoroughbreds。　That's　a　fact　of　life
　 〃Well；　mine　didn't。〃
　 〃Too　much　rich　food。　You　used　to　spoil　that　dog…〃
　 〃Is　there　anything　else　you　want　besides　lecturing　me　about　how　I　killed　my　dog　with　kindness？〃
　 〃No。　I　was　just　wanting　to　chat；　but　obviously　you're　in　no　mood　to　chat。〃
　 〃I　loved　Dempsey；　Mom。　You　understand　what　I'm　saying？〃
　 〃If　you　don't　mind　me　observing　something…〃
　 〃Could　I　stop　you？〃
　 〃…it's　sad　that　the　only　serious　relationship　you've　had　is　with　a　dog。　It's　time　you　grew　up；　Todd。　You're　not　getting　any　younger；　you　know。　You　think　about　the　way　your　father　aged。〃
　 〃I　don't　want　to　talk　about　this　right　now；　okay。〃
　 〃Listen　to　me。〃
　 〃Mom。　I　don't…〃
　 〃You've　got　his　genes；　so　listen　for　once　will　you？　He　was　a　good…looking　man　your　father；　till　he　was　about　thirty…four；　thirty…five。　Now　granted　he　didn't　take　care　of　himself　and　you　do…I　mean　he　smoked　and　he　drank　a　lot　more　than　was　good　for　him。　But　his　looks　went　practically　overnight。〃
　 〃Overnight？　That's　is　ridiculous。　Nobody's　looks　go…〃
　 〃All　right；　it　wasn't　overnight。　But　I　was　there。　I　saw。　Believe　me；　it　was　quick。　Five；　six　months　and　all　his　looks　had　gone。〃
　 Even　though　this　was　an　absurd　exaggeration；　there　was　an　element　of　truth　in　what　Patricia　Pickett　was　saying。　Todd's　father　had　indeed　lost　his　looks　with　remarkable　speed。　It　would　not　have　been　the　kind　of　thing　a　son　would　have　noticed；　necessarily；　but　Todd　had　a　second　point…of…view　on　his　father's　sudden　deterioration：　his　best　friend　Danny　had　been　raised　by　a　single　mother　who'd　several　times　made　her　feelings　for　Merrick　Pickett　known　to　her　son。　The　rumors　had　reached　Todd；　of　course。　Indeed　they'd　bee　practically　weekly　reports；　as　Danny's　mother's　plans　to　seduce　the　unwitting　subject　of　her　desires　were　laid　（and　failed）　and　re…laid。
　 All　this　came　back　to　Todd　as　his　mother　went　on　chatting。　Eventually；　he　said；　〃Mom；　I've　got　to　go。　I've　got　to　make　some　decisions　about　the　cremation。〃
　 〃Oh；　Lord；　I　hope　you're　keeping　this　quiet。　The　media　would　have　a　party　with　this：　you　and　your　dog。〃
　 〃Well　all　the　more　reason　for　you　to　clam　up　about　it；〃　he　warned。　〃If　anybody　calls；　saying　they　want　a　quote。〃
　 〃I　know　nothing。〃
　 〃You　know　nothing。〃
　 〃I　know　the　routine　by　now；　honey。　Don't　worry；　your　secret's　safe　with　me。〃
　 〃Don't　even　tell　the　neighbours。〃
　 〃Fine！　I　won't。〃
　 〃Bye；　Mom。〃
　 〃I'm　sorry　about　Brewster。〃
　 〃Dempsey。〃
　 〃Whatever。〃
　
　 It　was　true；　when　Todd　gave　the　subject　some　serious　thought：　Merrick　Pickett　had　indeed　lost　his　looks　with　startling　speed。　One　day　he'd　been　the　best　looking　insurance　agent　in　the　city　of　Cincinnati；　the　next　（it　seemed）　Danny's　mother　wouldn't　look　twice　at　him。　Suppose　this　was　hereditary？　Suppose　fifty　percent　of　it　was　hereditary？
　 He　called　Eppstadt's　office。　It　took　the　sonofabitch　forty…eight　minutes　to　return　the　call　and　when　he　did　his　manner　was　brusque。
　 〃I　hope　this　isn't　about　Warrior？〃
　 〃It　isn't。〃
　 〃We're　not　going　to　do　it；　Todd。〃
　 〃I　get　it；　Gary。　Is　your　assistant　listening　in　on　this　conversation？〃
　 〃No。　What　do　you　want？〃
　 〃When　we　had　lunch　you　remended　a　guy　who'd　done　some　work　for　a　few　famous　names。〃
　 〃Bruce　Burrows？〃
　 〃How　do　I　get　hold　of　him？　He's　not　in　the　book。〃
　 〃Don't　worry。　I'll　hook　you　up。〃
　 〃Thanks。〃
　 〃You're　making　a　good　call；　Todd。　I　hope　we　can　get　back　in　business　as　soon　as　you're　healed。〃
　
　 Once　he　had　the　number；　Todd　didn't　leave　himself　further　room　for　hesitation。　He　called　Burrows；　booked　the　consultation；　and　tentatively　chatted　over　some　dates　for　the　operation。
　 There　was　one　of　piece　outstanding　business　before　he　could　move　on：　the　disposal　of　Dempsey's　ashes。　Despite　the　reassurances　of　Robert　Louis　Stevenson；　Todd　did　not　have　any　clear　idea　as　to　the　permanence　of　any　soul；　whether　animal　or　human。　He　only　knew　that　he　wanted　Dempsey's　mortal　remains　to　be　placed　where　the　dog　had　been　most　happy。　There　was　no　doubt　about　where　that　was：　the　backyard　of　the　Bel　Air　house；　which　had　been；　since　his　puppyhood；　Dempsey's　unchallenged　territory：　his　stalking　ground；　his　schoolyard　when　it　came　to　learning　new　tricks。　And　it　was　there；　the　evening　before　Todd　put　himself　into　the　hands　of　Bruce　Burrows；　that　he　took　the　bronzed　plastic　urn　provided　by　the　Cremation　pany　out　into　the　yard。　The　urn　contained　a　plastic　bag；　which　in　turn　contained　Dempsey's　ashes。　There　were　a　lot　of　them；　but　then　he'd　been　a　big　dog。
　 Todd　sat　down　in　the　middle　of　the　yard；　where　he　and　Dempsey　had　so　often　sat　and　watched　the　sky　together；　and　poured　some　of　the　ashes　into　the　palm　of　his　hand。　What　part　of　this　grey　sand　was　his　tail；　he　wondered；　and　which　his　snout？　Which　part　the　place　behind　his　ear　he'd　love　you　forever　if　you　rubbed？　Or　didn't　it　matter？　Was　that　the　point　about　scattering　ashes：　that　in　the　end　they　looked　the　same？　Not　just　the　snout　and　the　tail；　but　a　dog's　ashes　and　a　man's　ashes。　All　reducible；　with　the　addition　of　a　little　flame；　to　this　mottled　dust？　He　put　his　lips　to　it；　once；　to　kiss　him　goodbye。　In　his　head　he　could　hear　his　mother　telling　him　that　it　was　a　gross；　unhealthy　thing　to　do；　so　he　kissed　them　again；　just　to　spite　her。　Then　he　stood　up　and　cast　Dempsey's　ashes　around；　like　a　farmer　sewing　seeds。　There　was　no　wind。　The　ash　fell　where　he　threw　it；　evenly　distributed　over　the　mutt's　dominion。
　 〃See　you；　dog；〃　he　said；　and　went　back　into　the　house　to　get　himself　a　large　bourbon。
　
　
　PART　THREE
　A　DARKER　TIME
　
　ONE
　 For　four　months；　in　the　summer　of　his　seventeenth　year；　Todd　had　worked　at　the　Sunset　Home　for　the　Elderly　on　the　outskirts　of　Orlando；　where　he'd　got　a　job　through　his　Uncle　Frank；　who　worked　as　an　accountant　for　Sunset　Homes　Incorporated。　The　place　was　little　more　than　a　repository　for　the　nearly…dead；　working　there　had　been　the　most　depressing　experience　of　his　young　life。　Most　of　his　duties　did　not　involve　the　patients…he　had　no　training　as　a　nurse；　nor　intended　to　get　any。　But　the　care　of　one　of　the　older　occupants；　a　man　by　the　name　of　Duncan　McFarlane；　was　given　over　to　him　because　McFarlane　was　prone　to　unruliness　when　he　was　being　bathed　by　the　female　nurses。　McFarlane　was　no　great　trouble　to　Todd。　He　was　just　a　sour　sonofabitch　who　wasn't　going　to　make　anybody's　life　one　jot　easier　if　he　could　possibly　avoid　it。　The　ritual　of　giving　a　bed…bath　to　his　patient　was　Todd's　particular　horror；　the　sight　of　his　own　body　awoke　a　profound　self…disgust　in　the　old　man。　Asking　around；　Todd　had　discovered　that　McFarlane　had　been　an　athlete　in　his　prime。　But　now…at　the　age　of　eighty…three…there　was　no　trace　of　the　strength　or　the　beauty　his　body　had　once　possessed。　He　was　a　pallid　sack　of　shit　and　resentment；　revolted　by　the　sight　of　himself。
　 Look　at　me；　he　would　say　when　Todd　uncovered　him；　Christ；　look　at　me；　Christ；　look　at　me。　Every　time　it　was　the　same　murmured　horror。　Look　at　me；　Christ；　look　at　me。
　 To　this　day；　the　image　of　McFarlane's　nakedness　remained　with　Todd　in　all　its　grotesque　particulars。　The　little　beard　of　dirty　white　hair　that　hung　from　the　old　man's　scrotum；　the　constellation　of　heavy；　dark　warts　above　his　left　nipple；　the　wrinkled　folds　of　pale；　spotted　flesh　that　hung　under　his　arms。　Todd　felt　guilty　about　his　disgust；　and　kept　it　to　himself；　until　one　day　it　had　been　the　subject　of　discussion　in　the　day…room；　and　he'd　discovered　that　his　feelings　were　shared；　especially　by　the　male　members　of　the　nursing　staff。　The　female　nurses　seemed　to　have　more　passion；　perhaps；　or　were　simply　indifferent　to　the　facts　of　creeping　senili