The Regulators - Stephen King [73]
Anyway, Herbie puts his face close to Seth's — so that Seth has to look at him — then talks in a low, kind voice. He tells Seth we know what's wrong, why he's so upset, but not to worry because Cassie's Power Wagon is sure to be in the house or in the back yard somewhere. We'll find it, he says.
All during this Seth was fine. He kept eating his cereal his face didn't change, but sometimes you just know it's him, and that he's listening and understanding at least a little. Then Herb said, 'And if we absolutely can't find it, we'll get you a new one,' everything went to hell.
Seth's cereal bowl went flipping across the room, spilling milk and cereal all over the kitchen floor. It hit the wall broke. The drawer under the stove came open, and all the things I keep under there — frying pans, cookie-sheets, muffin-tins — came flying out. The sink faucets turned on. The dishwasher supposedly can't start with the door open, but it did water went all over the floor. The vase I keep on the window-shelf over the sink flew all the way across the room broke against the wall. Scariest of all was the toaster. It was on, I was making a couple of slices to have with my o.j., all at once it glowed bright red inside the slots, as if it was a furnace instead of a little counter-gadget. The handle went up the toast flew all the way up to the ceiling. It was black and smoking. Looked nuclear. It landed in the sink.
Seth got up and walked out of the room. His stalky walk. Herb and I just looked at each other for a second or two, then he said, 'That toast would probably taste okay with a little peanut butter on it.' I just gaped at him at first but then I started laughing. That got him started. We laughed laughed, with our heads down on the kitchen table. Trying to keep him from hearing, I guess, except that's stupid — Seth doesn't always have to hear to know. I'm not sure it's mind-reading he does, exactly, but it's something.
When I finally got control of myself enough to look up, Herb was getting the mop for under the dishwasher. He was still kind of chuckling and wiping at his eyes. Thank God for him. I went to get the dustpan and brush for the broken vase.
'I guess he's sort of committed to the old Dream Floater,' is all Herb said. And why say anymore'? That pretty well covers it.
Now it's three in the afternoon and we have 'been all over the geedee house', as my old school-friend Jan would say. Seth has tried to help, in his own peculiar way. It kinda broke my heart to see him turning up the sofa cushions, as if his missing van could've slipped under there like a quarter or a crust of pizza. Herb started out hopeful, saying it was too big bright to miss, I thought he was right. As a matter of fact I still think he's right, so how come we can't find it? From where I'm writing at the kitchen table I can see Herb down on his knees by the hedge at the back of the yard, poking along with the handle of a rake. I'd like to tell him to stop — it's the third time he's been along there — but I don't have the heart.
Noises upstairs. Seth's getting up from his nap, so I need to finish this. Put it out of sight. Try to put it out of mind, too. That should be okay, though. I think Seth has more success picking up what Herb is thinking than he does with me. No real reason, but the feeling is strong. And I've been careful not to tell Herb that I'm keeping a journal.
I know what anyone reading the journal would say: we're nuts. Nuts to keep him. Something is wrong with him. Badly wrong, and we don't know what it is. We know it's dangerous, though. So why do it? Why go on? I don't know, exactly. Because we love him? Because he's controlling us? No. Sometimes there are things like that (Herb twisting his lip or me slapping myself), things like a powerful hypnosis, but not often. He's mostly just Seth, a child in the prison of his own mind. He's also the last little bit of my brother.
But sure, beyond all that (and over it, and under it, and around it) is just loving. And every night when Herb and I lie down, I see in my husband's