Pet Sematary - Stephen King [111]
The funeral director and Dory Goldman led Rachel out. She was still screaming. Later on, in another room (one that Louis assumed was reserved especially for those overcome with grief- the Hysterics Parlor, perhaps) she became very silent. Louis himself, dazed but sane and in control, sedated her this time, after insisting that the two of them be left alone.
At home he led her up to bed and gave her another shot. Then he pulled the covers up to her chin and regarded her waxy, pallid face.
Rachel, Im sorry, he said. Id give anything in the world to take that back.
Its all right, she said in a strange, flat voice and then rolled over on her side, turning away from him.
He heard the tired old question Are you all right? rising to his lips and pushed it back. It wasnt a true question; it wasnt what he really wanted to know.
How bad are you? he asked finally.
Pretty bad, Louis, she said and then uttered a sound that could have been a laugh. I am terrible, in fact.
Something more seemed required, but Louis could not supply it. He felt suddenly resentful of her, of Steve Masterton, of Missy Dandridge and her husband with his arrowhead-shaped adams apple, of the whole damned crew. Why should he have to be the eternal supplier? What sort of shit was that?
He turned off the light and left. He found that he could not give much more to his daughter.
For one wild moment, regarding her in her shadowy room, he thought she was Gage-the thought came to him that the whole
thing had been a hideous nightmare, like his dream of Pascow leading him into the woods, and for a moment his tired mind grasped at it. The shadows helped-there was only the shifting light of the portable TV that Jud had taken up for her to pass the hours. The long, long hours.
But it wasnt Gage, of course; it was Ellie, who was now not only grasping the picture in which she was pulling Gage on the sled, but sitting in Cages chair. She had taken it out of his room and brought it into hers. It was a small directors chair with a canvas seat and a canvas strip across the back. Stenciled across that strip was GAGE. Rachel had mail-ordered four of these chairs. Each member of the family had one with his or her name stenciled on the back.
Ellie was too big for Gages chair. She was crammed into it, and the canvas bottom bulged downward dangerously. She held the Polaroid picture to her chest and stared at the TV, where some movie was showing.
Ellie, he said, snapping off the TV, bedtime.
She worked her way out of the chair, then folded it up. She apparently meant to take the chair into bed with her.
Louis hesitated, wanting to say something about the chair, and finally settled on, Do you want me to tuck you in?
Yes, please, she said.
Do you would you want to sleep with Mommy tonight?
No, thanks.
You sure?
She smiled a little. Yes. She steals the covers.
Louis smiled back. Come on then.
Instead of trying to put the chair in bed with her, Ellie unfolded it by the head of the bed, and an absurd image came to Louis-here was the consulting room of the worlds smallest psychiatrist.
She undressed, putting the picture of her and Gage on her pillow to do it. She put on her baby doll pajamas, picked up the picture, went into the bathroom, put it down to wash up, brush, floss, and to take her fluoride tablet. Then she picked it up again and got into bed with it.
Louis sat down beside her and said, I want you to know, Ellie, that if we keep on loving each other, we can get through this.
Each word was like moving a handcar loaded with wet bales, and the total effort left Louis feeling exhausted.
Im going to wish really hard, Ellie said calmly, and pray to God for Gage to come back.
Ellie-
God can take it back if He wants to, Ellie said. He can do anything He wants to.
Ellie, God doesnt do things like that, Louis said uneasily, and in his minds eye he saw Church squatting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at him