Dolores Claiborne - Stephen King [67]
The greenfront was open, eclipse or no eclipse-I expect that booger'll be doin business as usual even on Apocalypse Morn. I stopped in, bought a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red, then walked on out East Lane to the house. I gave the bottle to Joe first thing didn't make any bones about it, just plopped into his lap. Then I walked into the house n got the bag Vera had given me, the one with the eclipse-viewers and reflector-boxes in it. When I came out on the back porch again, he was holdin that bottle of Scotch up so he could see the color.
Are you gonna drink it or just admire it? I ast him.
He give me a look, kinda suspicious, and says, Just what the hell is this, Dolores?
It's a present to celebrate the eclipse, I said. If you don't want it, I c'n always pour it down the sink.
I made as if to reach for it n he yanked it back real quick.
You been givin me one helluva lot of presents just lately, he says. We can't afford stuff like this, eclipse or no eclipse. That didn't stop him from gettin out his pocket-knife and slittin the seal, though; didn't even seem to slow him down.
Well, to tell you the truth, it's not just the eclipse, I says. I've just been feelin so good and so relieved that I wanted to share some of my happiness. And since I've noticed that most of what seems to make you happy comes out of a bottle
I watched him take the cap off n pour himself a knock. His hand was shakin a little bit, and I wasn't sorry to see it. The raggeder he was, the better my chances would be.
What have you got to feel good about? he asks. Did somebody invent a pill to cure ugly?
That's a pretty mean thing to say to someone who just bought you a bottle of premium Scotch, I said. Maybe I really should take it back. I reached for it again and he pulled it back again.
Fat chance, he says.
Then be nice, I told him. What happened to all that gratitude you were s'posed to be learnin in your AA?
He never minded that, just went on lookin at me like a store-clerk tryin to decide if someone'd passed him a phony ten. What's got you feelin so goddam good? he asks again. It's the brats, isn't it? Havin em outta the house.
Nope, I miss em already, I said, and it was the truth, too.
Yeah, you would, he says, n drinks his drink. So what is it?
I'll tell you later, I says, n starts gettin up.
He grabbed my arm and said, Tell me now, Dolores. You know I don't like it when you're fresh.
I looked down at him and says, You better take your hand off me, or that expensive bottle of hooch might end up gettin broke over your head. I don't want to fight with you, Joe, especially not today. I've got some nice salami, some Swiss cheese, and some water-biscuits.
Water-biscuits! he says. Jesus wept, woman!
Never mind, I says. I'm gonna make us a tray of hors d'oeuvres every bit as nice as the ones Vera's guests are gonna have out on the ferry
Fancy food like that gives me the shits, he says. Never mind any hosses ovaries; just make me a sandwich.
All right, I agreed. I will.
He was lookin toward the reach by then-probably me mentionin the ferry'd put him in mind of it-with his lower lip poochin out in that ugly way it had. There were more boats out there than ever, and it looked to me like the sky over em had lightened up a little bit. Lookit em! he says in that sneerin way of his-the one his youngest son was tryin so goddam hard to copy. Ain't nothin gonna happen that's any more'n a thunderhead goin across the sun, and they're all just about shootin off in their pants. I hope it rains! I hope it comes down s'hard it drowns that snooty cunt you work for, and the rest of em, too!
That's my Joe, I says. Always cheery, always charitable.
He looked around at me, still holdin that bottle