JК
Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 79 из 425She was young, but I thought it was a mother’s terror and exhaustion I was looking at. I expected her to swat the tot, because that’s how trailer-trash moms react to being tired and scared. When she did, I would stop her, one way or another distract her into turning her anger on me, if that was what it took. There was nothing very noble in this, I should add; all I really wanted to do was to postpone the fanny-whacking, shoulder-shaking, and in-your-face shouting to a time and place where I wouldn’t have to watch it. It was my first day back in town; I didn’t want to s. pend any of it watching an inattentive slut abuse her child. Instead of shaking her and shouting “Where did you think you were going, you little bitch?” Mattie first hugged the child (who hugged back enthusiastically, showing absolutely no sign of fear)
and then covered her face with kisses. “Why did you do that?” she cried.
“What was in your head? When I couldn’t find you, I died.” Mattie burst into tears. The child in the bathing suit looked at her with an expression of surprise so big and complete it would have been comical under other circumstances. Then her own face crumpled up. I stood back, watched them crying and hugging, and felt ashamed of my preconceptions.
A car went by and slowed down. An elderly couple—Ma and Pa Kettle on their way to the store for that holiday box of Grape-Nuts—gawked out. I gave them an impatient wave with both hands, the kind that says what areyou staring at, go on, put an egg in your shoe and beat it. They sped up, but I didn’t see an out-of-state license plate, as I’d hoped I might. This version of Ma and Pa were locals, and the story would be fleeting its rounds soon enough: Mattie the teenage bride and her little bundle of joy (said bundle undoubtedly conceived in the back seat of a car or the bed of a pickup truck some months before the legit-imizing ceremony), bawling their eyes out at the side of the road. With a stranger. No, not exactly a stranger. Mike Noonan, the writer fella from upstate. “I wanted to go to the beach and suh-suh-swim!” the little girl wept, and now it was “swim” that sounded exotic—the Vietnamese word for “ecstasy,” perhaps. “I said I’d take you this afternoon.” Mattie was still sniffing, but getting herself under control. “Don’t do that again, little guy, please don’t you ever do that again, Mommy was so scared.”
“I won’t,” the kid said “I really won’t.” Still crying, she hugged the older girl tight, laying her head against the side of Mattie’s neck. Her baseball cap fell off.
and then covered her face with kisses. “Why did you do that?” she cried.
“What was in your head? When I couldn’t find you, I died.” Mattie burst into tears. The child in the bathing suit looked at her with an expression of surprise so big and complete it would have been comical under other circumstances. Then her own face crumpled up. I stood back, watched them crying and hugging, and felt ashamed of my preconceptions.
A car went by and slowed down. An elderly couple—Ma and Pa Kettle on their way to the store for that holiday box of Grape-Nuts—gawked out. I gave them an impatient wave with both hands, the kind that says what areyou staring at, go on, put an egg in your shoe and beat it. They sped up, but I didn’t see an out-of-state license plate, as I’d hoped I might. This version of Ma and Pa were locals, and the story would be fleeting its rounds soon enough: Mattie the teenage bride and her little bundle of joy (said bundle undoubtedly conceived in the back seat of a car or the bed of a pickup truck some months before the legit-imizing ceremony), bawling their eyes out at the side of the road. With a stranger. No, not exactly a stranger. Mike Noonan, the writer fella from upstate. “I wanted to go to the beach and suh-suh-swim!” the little girl wept, and now it was “swim” that sounded exotic—the Vietnamese word for “ecstasy,” perhaps. “I said I’d take you this afternoon.” Mattie was still sniffing, but getting herself under control. “Don’t do that again, little guy, please don’t you ever do that again, Mommy was so scared.”
“I won’t,” the kid said “I really won’t.” Still crying, she hugged the older girl tight, laying her head against the side of Mattie’s neck. Her baseball cap fell off.