Pet Sematary - Stephen King [5]
Rachel smiled. Youll end up getting Norma Crandall to tell you where it hurts and what kind of mattress she sleeps on.
Louis laughed, thinking how funny-funny and scary-it was, the way wives could read their husbands minds after a while.
He was here when we needed him, he said. I can do him a favor, I guess.
Barter system?
He shrugged, unwilling and unsure how to tell her that he had taken a liking to Crandall on short notice. Hows his wife?
Very sweet, Rachel said. Gage sat on her lap. I was surprised because hes had a hard day, and you know he doesnt take very well to new people on short notice under the best of circumstances. And she had a dolly she let Eileen play with.
How bad would you say her arthritis is? Quite bad.
In a wheelchair?
No but she walks very slowly, and her fingers..
Rachel held her own slim fingers up and hooked them into claws to demonstrate. Louis nodded. Anyway, dont be late, Lou. I get the creeps in strange houses.
It wont be strange for long, Louis said and kissed her.
6
Louis came back later feeling small. No one asked him to examine Norma Crandall; when he crossed the street (rud, he reminded himself, smiling), the lady had already retired for the night. Jud was a vague silhouette behind the screens of the enclosed porch. There was the comfortable squeak of a rocker on old linoleum. Louis knocked on the screen door, which rattled companionably against its frame. Crandalls cigarette glowed like a large, peaceable firefly in the summer darkness. From a radio, low, came the voice of a Red Sox game, and all of it gave Louis Creed the oddest feeling of coming home.
Doc, Crandall said. I thought that was you.
Hope you meant it about the beer, Louis said, coming in.
Oh, about beer I never lie, Crandall said. A man who lies about beer makes enemies. Sit down, Doc. I put an extra couple on ice, just in case.
The porch was long and narrow, furnished with rattan chairs and sofas. Louis sank into one and was surprised at how comfortable it was. At his left hand was a tin pail filled with ice cubes and a few cans of Black Label. He took one.
Thank you, he said and opened it. The first two swallows hit his throat like a blessing.
Moren welcome, Crandall said. I hope your time here will be a happy one, Doc.
Amen, Louis said.
Say! If you want crackers or somethin, I could get some. I got a wedge of rat thats just about ripe.
A wedge of what?
Rat cheese. Crandall sounded faintly amused.
Thanks, but just the beer will do me.
Well then, well just let her go. Crandall belched contentedly.
Your wife gone to bed? Louis asked, wondering why he was opening the door like this.
Ayuh. Sometimes she stays up. Sometimes she dont.
Her arthritis is quite painful, isnt it?
You ever see a case that wasnt? Crandall asked.
Louis shook his head.
I guess its tolerable, Crandall said. She dont complain much. Shes a good old girl, my Norma. There was a great and simple weight of affection in his voice. Out on Route 15, a tanker truck droned by, one so big and long that for a moment Louis couldnt see his house across the road. Written on the side, just visible in the last light, was the word ORINCO.
One hell of a big truck, Louis commented.
Orincos near Orrington, Crandall said. Chemical fertilizer factry. They come and go, all right. And the oil tankers, and the dump trucks, and the people who go to work in Bangor or Brewer and come home at night. He shook his head. Thats the one thing about Ludlow I dont like anymore. That frigging road. No peace from it. They go all day and all night. Wake Norma up sometimes. Hell, wake me up sometimes, and I sleep like a goddam log.
Louis, who thought this strange Maine landscape almost eerily quiet after the constant roar of Chicago, only nodded his head.
One day soon the Arabs will pull the plug, and theyll be able to grow African violets right down the yellow line, Crandall said.
You might be right. Louis tilted his can back and was surprised to find it empty.
Crandall