dk.watchers-第13部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Nora　snatched　up　the　phone　on　the　first　ring；　fiercely　determined　to　tell　him　off　and　make　him　leave　her　alone。　But　for　some　reason　she　clenched　up　again　and　was　unable　to　speak。
　In　a　repulsively　intimate　tone　of　voice；　he　said；　〃You　miss　me；　prettiness？　Hmmmm？　Do　you　wish　I'd　e　to　you；　be　a　man　for　you？〃
　She　hung　up。
　What's　wrong　with　me？　she　wondered。　Why　can't　I　tell　him　to　go　away　and　stop　bothering　me？
　Maybe　her　speechlessness　grew　from　a　secret　desire　to　hear　a　man…any　man；　even　a　disgusting　specimen　like　Streck…call　her　pretty。　Although　he　was　not　the　kind　who　would　be　capable　of　tenderness　or　affection；　she　could　listen　to　him　and　imagine　what　it　would　be　like　to　have　a　good　man　say　sweet　things　to　her。
　〃Well；　you're　not　pretty；〃　she　told　herself；　〃and　you　never　ever　will　be；　so　stop　mooning　around。　Next　time　he　calls；　tell　him　off。〃
　She　got　out　of　bed　and　went　down　the　hall　to　the　bathroom；　where　there　was　a　mirror。　Following　Violet　Devon's　example；　Nora　did　not　have　mirrors　anywhere　in　the　house　except　the　bathrooms。　She　did　not　like　to　look　at　herself　because　what　she　saw　was　saddening。
　This　one　night；　however；　she　wanted　to　take　a　look　at　herself　because　Streck's　flattery；　though　cold　and　calculated；　had　stirred　her　curiosity。　Not　that　she　hoped　to　see　some　fine　quality　that　she　had　never　seen　before。　No。　From　duckling　to　swan　overnight　。　。　。　that　was　a　frivolous；　hopeless　dream。　Rather；　she　wanted　to　confirm　that　she　was　undesirable。　Streck's　unwanted　interest　rattled　Nora　because　she　was　fortable　in　her　homeliness　and　solitude；　and　she　wanted　to　reassure　herself　that　he　was　mocking　her；　that　he　would　not　act　upon　his　threats；　that　her　peaceful　solitude　would　endure。　Or　so　she　told　herself　as　she　stepped　into　the　bathroom　and　switched　on　the　light。
　The　narrow　chamber　had　pale…blue　tile　from　floor　to　ceiling　with　a　white…tile　border。　A　huge　claw…foot　tub。　White　porcelain　and　brass　fixtures。　The　large　mirror　was　somewhat　streaked　with　age。
　She　looked　at　her　hair；　which　Streck　said　was　beautiful；　dark；　glossy。　But　it　was　of　one　shade；　without　natural　highlights；　to　her；　it　wasn't　glossy　but　oily；　although　she　had　washed　it　that　morning。
　She　looked　quickly　at　her　brow；　cheekbones；　nose；　jaw　line；　lips；　and　chin。　She　tentatively　traced　her　features　with　one　hand；　but　she　saw　nothing　to　intrigue　a　man。
　M　last；　reluctantly；　she　stared　into　her　eyes；　which　Streck　had　called　lovely。　They　were　a　dreary；　lusterless　shade　of　gray。　She　could　not　bear　to　meet　her　own　gaze　for　more　than　a　few　seconds。　Her　eyes　confirmed　her　low　opinion　of　her　appearance。　But　also　。　。　。　well；　in　her　own　eyes　she　saw　a　smoldering　anger　that　disturbed　her；　that　was　not　like　her；　an　anger　at　what　she　had　let
　herself　bee。　Of　course；　that　made　no　sense　whatsoever　because　she　was　what　nature　had　made　her…a　mouse…and　she　could　do　nothing　about　that。
　Turning　from　the　mottled　mirror；　she　felt　a　pang　of　disappointment　that　her　self…inspection　had　not　resulted　in　a　single　surprise　or　reevaluation。　Immediately；　however；　she　was　shocked　and　appalled　by　that　disappointment。　She　stood　in　the　bathroom　doorway；　shaking　her　head；　amazed　by　her　own　befuddled　thought　processes。
　Did　she　want　to　be　appealing　to　Streck？　Of　course　not。　He　was　weird；　sick；　dangerous。　The　very　last　thing　she　wanted　was　to　appeal　to　him。　Maybe　she　wouldn't　mind　if　another　man　looked　on　her　with　favor；　but　not　Streck。　She　should　get　on　her　knees　and　thank　God　for　creating　her　as　she　was；　because　if　she　were　at　all　attractive；　Streck　would　make　good　on　his　threats。　He'd　e　here；　and　he'd　rape　her　。　。　。　maybe　murder　her。　Who　knew　about　a　man　like　that？　Who　knew　what　his　limits　were？　She　wasn't　being　a　nervous　old　maid　when　she　worried　about　murder；　not　these　days：　the　newspapers　were　full　of　it。
　She　realized　that　she　was　defenseless；　and　she　hurried　back　to　the　bedroom；　where　she　had　left　the　butcher's　knife。
　　
　　
　5
　Most　people　believe　psychoanalysis　is　a　cure　for　unhappiness。　They　are　sure　they　could　overe　all　their　problems　and　achieve　peace　of　mind　if　only　they　could　understand　their　own　psychology；　understand　the　reasons　for　their　negative　moods　and　self…destructive　behavior。　But　Travis　had　learned　this　was　not　the　case。　For　years；　he　engaged　in　unsparing　self…analysis；　and　long　ago　he　figured　out　why　he　had　bee　a　loner　who　was　unable　to　make　friends。　However；　in　spite　of　that　understanding；　he　had　not　been　able　to　change。
　Now；　as　midnight　approached；　he　sat　in　the　kitchen；　drank　another　Coors；　and　told　Einstein　about　his　self…imposed　emotional　isolation。　Einstein　sat　before　him；　unmoving；　never　yawning；　as　if　intently　interested　in　his　tale。
　〃I　was　a　loner　as　a　kid；　right　from　the　start；　though　I　wasn't　entirely　without　friends。　It　was　just　that　I　always　preferred　my　own　pany。　I　guess　it's　my　nature。　I　mean；　when　I　was　a　kid；　I　hadn't　yet　decided　that　my　being　friends　with　someone　was　a　danger　to　him。〃
　Travis's　mother　had　died　giving　birth　to　him；　and　he　knew　all　about　that　from　an　early　age。　In　time　her　death　would　seem　like　an　omen　of　what　was　to　e；　and　it　would　take　on　a　terrible　importance；　but　that　was　later。　As　a　kid；　he　wasn't　yet　burdened　with　guilt。
　Not　until　he　was　ten。　That　was　when　his　brother　Harry　died。　Harry　was　twelve；　two　years　older　than　Travis。　One　Monday　morning　in　June；　Harry　talked　Travis　into　walking　three　blocks　to　the　beach；　although　their　father　had　expressly　forbidden　them　to　go　swimming　without　him。　It　was　a　private
　cove　without　a　public　lifeguard；　and　they　were　the　only　two　swimmers　in　sight。
　〃Harry　got　caught　in　an　undertow；〃　Travis　told　Einstein。　〃We　were　in　the　water　together　no　more　than　ten　feet　apart；　and　the　damn　undertow　got　him；　sucked　him　away；　but　it　didn't　get　me。　I　even　went　after　him；　tried　to　save　him；　so　I　should've　swum　straight　into　the　same　current；　but　I　guess　it　changed　course　just　after　it　snatched　Harry　away；　'cause　I　came　out　of　the　water　alive。〃　He　stared　at　the　top　of　the　kitchen　table　for　a　long　moment；　seeing　not　the　red　Formica　but　the　rolling；　treacherous；　blue…green　sea。　〃I　loved　my　big　brother　more　than　anyone　in　the　world。〃
　Einstein　whined　softly；　as　in　miseration。
　〃Nobody　blamed　me　for　what　happened　to　Harry。　He　was　the　older　one。　He　was　supposed　to　be　the　most　responsible。　But　I　felt　。　。　。　well；　if　the　undertow　took　Harry；　it　should've　taken　me；　too。〃
　A　night　wind　blew　in　from　the　west；　rattled　a　loose　windowpane。
　After　taking　a　swallow　of　beer；　Travis　said；　〃The　summer　I　was　fourteen；　I　wanted　very　badly　to　go　to　tennis　camp。　Tennis　was　my　big　enthusiasm　then。　So　my　dad　enrolled　me　in　a　place　down　near　San　Diego；　a　full　month　of　intense　instruction。　He　drove　me　there　on　a　Sunday；　but　we　never　made　it。　Just　north　of　Oceanside；　a　trucker　fell　asleep　at　the　wheel；　his　rig　jumped　the　median；　and　we　were　wiped。　Dad　was　killed　instantly。　Broken　neck；　broken　back；　skull　crushed；　chest　caved　in。　I　was　in　the　front　seat　beside　him；　and　I　came　out　of　it　with　a　few　cuts；　bruises；　and　two　broken　fingers。〃
　The　dog　was　studying　him　intently。
　〃It　was　just　like　with　Harry。　Both　of　us　should　have　died；　my　father　and　me；　but　I　escaped。　And　we　wouldn't　have　been　making　the　damn　drive　if　I　hadn't　agitated　like　hell　about　tennis　camp。　So　this　time；　there　was　no　getting　around　it。　Maybe　I　couldn't　be　blamed　for　my　mother　dying　in　childbirth；　and　maybe　I　couldn't　be　pinned　with　Harry's　death；　but　this　one　。　。　。　Anyway；　although　I　wasn't　always　at　fault；　it　began　to　be　clear　that　I　was　jinxed；　that　it　wasn't　safe　for　people　to　get　too　close　to　me。　When　I　loved　somebody；　really　loved　them；　they　were　sure　as　shit　going　to　die。〃
　Only　a　child　could　have　been　convinced　that　those　tragic　events　meant　he　was　a　walking　curse；　but　Travis　was　a　child　then；　only　fourteen；　and　no　other　explanation　was　so　neat。　He　was　too　young　to　understand　that　the　mindless　violence　of　nature　and　fate　often　had　no　meaning　that　could　be　ascertained。　At　fourteen；　he　needed　meaning　in　order　to　cope；　so　he　told　himself　that　he　was　cursed；　that　if　he　made　any　close　friends　he　would　be　sentencing　them　to　early　death。　Being　somewhat　of　an　introvert　to　begin　with；　he　found　it　almost　too　easy　to　turn　inward　and　make　do　with　his　own　pany。
　By　the　time　he　graduated　from　college　at　the　age　of　twenty…one；　he　was　a　confirmed　loner；　though　maturity　had　given　him　a　healthier　perspective　On　the　deaths　of　his　mother；　brother；　and　father。　He　no　longer　consciously　thought　of　himself　as　jinxed；　no　longer　blamed　himself　for　what　had　happened　to　his　family。　He　remained　an　introvert；　without　close　friends；　partly　because　he　had　lost　the　ability　to　form　and　nurture　intimate　relationships　and　partly
　because　he　figured　he　could　not　be　shattered　by　grief　if　he　had　no　friends　to　lose。
　〃Habit　and　self…defense　kept　me　emotionally　isolated；〃　he　told　Einstein。
　The　dog　rose　and　crossed　the　few　feet　of　kitchen　floor　that　separated　them。　It　insinuated　itself　between　his　legs　and　put　its　head　in　his　lap。
　Petting　Einstein；　Travis　said；　〃Had　no　idea　what　I　wanted　to　do　after　college；　and　there　was　a　military　draft　then；　so　I　joined　up　before　they　could　call　me。　Chose　the　army。　Special　Forces。　Liked　it。　Maybe　because　。　。　。　well；　there　was　a　sense　of　camaraderie；　and　I　was　forced　to　make　friends。　See；　I　pretended　not　to　want　close　ties　with　anyone；　but　I　must　have　because　I　put　myself　in　a　situation　where　it　was　inevitable。　Decided　to　make　a　career　out　of　the　service。　When　Delta　Force…the　antiterrorist　group…was　formed；　that's　where　I　finally　landed。　The　guys　in　Delta　were　tight；　real　buddies。　They　called　me　'The　Mute'　and　'Harpo'　because　I　wasn't　a　talker；　but　in　spite　of　myself　I　made　friends。　Then；　on　our　eleventh　operation；　my　squad　was　flown　into　Athens　to　take　the　U。S。　embassy　back　from　a　group　of　Palestinian　extremists　who'd　seized　it。　They'd　killed　eight　staff　members　and　were　still　killing　one　an　hour；　wouldn't　negotiate。　We　hit　them　quick　and　sneaky…and　it　was　a　fiasco。　They'd　booby…trapped　the　place。　Nine　men　in　my　squad　died。　I　was　the　only　survivor。　A　bullet　in　my　thigh。　Shrapnel　in　my　ass。　But　a　survivor。〃
　Einstein　raised　his　head　from　Travis's　lap。
　Travis　thought　he　saw　sympathy　in　the　dog's　eyes。　Mayb