Pet Sematary - Stephen King [108]
Dont worry, he said to Steve now. What about Benjamin's?
Sure, Steve said. Benjamins would be fine.
He had made the call from the office of the funeral director. Now, as Louis passed the East Room on his way out, he saw that the room was almost empty, but Irwin and Dory Goldman sat down in the front row, heads bowed. They looked to Louis as if they might sit there forever.
Benjamins was the right choice. Bangor was an early-lunch town, and around one oclock it was nearly deserted. Jud had come along with Steve and Rachel, and the four of them ate fried
chicken. At one point Rachel went to the ladies room and remained in there so long that Steve became nervous. He was on the verge of asking a waitress to check on her when she came back to the table, her eyes red.
Louis picked at his chicken and drank a lot of Schlitz beer. Jud matched him bottle for bottle, not talking much.
Their four meals went back almost uneaten, and with his preternatural insight, Louis saw the waitress, a fat girl with a pretty face, debating with herself about whether or not to ask them if their meals had been all right, finally taking another look at Rachels red-rimmed eyes and deciding it would be the wrong question. Over coffee Rachel said something so suddenly and so baldly that it rather shocked them all-particularly Louis, who at last was becoming sleepy with the beer. Im going to give his clothes to the Salvation Army.
Are you? Steve said after a moment.
Yes, Rachel said. Theres a lot of wear in them yet. All his jumpers his corduroy pants his shirts. Someone will be glad to get them. Theyre all very serviceable. Except for the ones he was wearing, of course. Theyre ruined.
The last word became a miserable choke. She tried to drink coffee, but that was no good. A moment later she was sobbing into her hands.
There was a queer moment then. There were crossing lines of tension then. They all seemed to focus on Louis. He felt this with the same preternatural insight hed had all this day, and of them all, this was the clearest and surest. Even the waitress felt those converging lines of awareness. He saw her pause at a table near the back where she was laying placemats and silver. For a moment Louis was puzzled, and then he understood: they were waiting for him to comfort his wife.
He couldnt do it. He wanted to do it. He understood it was his responsibility to do it. All the same, he couldnt. It was the cat that got in his way. Suddenly and with no rime or reason. The cat. The fucking cat. Church with his ripped mice and the birds he had grounded forever. When he found them, Louis had cleaned up the messes promptly, with no complaint or comment, certainly without protest. He had, after all, bought them. But had he bought this?
He saw his fingers. Louis saw his fingers. He saw his fingers
lightly skating over the back of Gages jacket. Then Gages jacket had been gone. Then Gage had been gone.
He looked into his coffee cup and let his wife cry beside him, uncomforted.
After a moment-in terms of clock time probably quite short, but both then and in retrospect it seemed long-Steve put an arm around her and hugged her gently. His eyes on Louiss were reproachful and angry. Louis turned from them toward Jud, but Jud was looking down, as if in shame. There was no help there.
37
I knew something like this would happen, Irwin Goldman said. That was how the trouble started. I knew it when she married you. Youll have all the grief you can stand and more, I said. And look at this. Look at this this mess.
Louis looked slowly around at his father-in-law, who had appeared before him like some malign jack-in-the-box in a skullcap; and then, instinctively, he looked around at where Rachel had been, by the book on the stand-the afternoon shift was hers by default-but Rachel was gone.
The afternoon viewing had been less crowded, and after half an hour