sk.theshining-第3部分

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　　〃Dad　says　it。　When　he　was　looking　at　the　bugmotor　be　said；　‘Christ　this　fuel　pump's　all　shot　to　sbit。'　Isn't　Dad　nice？〃　How　do　you　get　into　these　things；　Winnifred？　Do　you　practice？
　　〃He's　nice；　but　he's　also　a　grown…up。　And　he's　very　careful　not　to　say　things　like　that　in　front　of　people　who　wouldn't　understand。〃
　　〃You　mean　like　Uncle　AI？〃
　　〃Yes；　that's　right。〃
　　〃Can　I　say　it　when　I'm　grown…up？〃
　　〃I　suppose　you　will；　whether　I　like　it　or　not。〃
　　〃How　old？〃
　　〃How　does　twenty　sound；　doc？〃
　　〃That's　a　long　time　to　have　to　wait。〃
　　〃I　guess　it　is；　but　will　you　try？〃
　　〃Hokay。〃　He　went　back　to　staring　up　the　street。　He　flexed　a　little；　as　if　to　rise；　but　the　beetle　ing　was　much　newer；　and　much　brighter　red。　He　relaxed　again。　She　wondered　just　how　hard　this　move　to　Colorado　had　been　on　Danny。　He　was　closemouthed　about　it；　but　it　bothered　her　to　see　him　spending　so　much　time　by　himself。　In　Vermont　three　of　Jack's　fellow　faculty　members　had　had　children　about　Danny's　age…and　there　bad　been　the　preschool…but　in　this　neighborhood　there　was　no　one　for　him　to　play　with。　Most　of　the　apartments　were　occupied　by　students　attending　CU；　and　of　the　few　married　couples　here　on　Arapahoe　Street；　only　a　tiny　percentage　had　children。　She　had　spotted　perhaps　a　dozen　of　high　school　or　junior　high　school　age；　three　infants；　and　that　was　all。
　　〃Mommy；　why　did　Daddy　lose　his　job？〃　She　was　jolted　out　of　her　reverie　and　floundering　for　an　answer。　She　and　Jack　had　discussed　ways　they　might　handle　just　such　a　question　from　Danny；　ways　that　had　varied　from　evasion　to　the　plain　truth　with　no　varnish　on　it。　But　Danny　had　never　asked。　Not　until　now；　when　she　was　feeling　low　and　least　prepared　for　such　a　question。　Yet　he　was　looking　at　her；　maybe　reading　the　confusion　on　her　face　and　forming　his　own　ideas　about　that。　She　thought　that　to　children　adult　motives　and　actions　must　seem　as　bulking　and　ominous　as　dangerous　animals　seen　in　the　shadows　of　a　dark　forest。　They　were　jerked　about　like　puppets；　having　only　the　vaguest　notions　why。　The　thought　brought　her　dangerously　close　to　tears　again；　and　while　she　fought　them　off　she　leaned　over；　picked　up　the　disabled　glider；　and　turned　it　over　in　her　hands。
　　〃Your　daddy　was　coaching　the　debate　team；　Danny。　Do　you　remember　that？〃
　　〃Sure；〃　he　said。　〃Arguments　for　fun；　right？〃
　　〃Right。〃　She　turned　the　glider　over　and　over；　looking　at　the　trade　name　（SPEEDOGLIDE）　and　the　blue　star　decals　on　the　wings；　and　found　herself　telling　the　exact　truth　to　her　son。
　　〃There　was　a　boy　named　George　Hatfield　that　Daddy　had　to　cut　from　the　team。
　　That　means　he　wasn't　as　good　as　some　of　the　others。　George　said　your　daddy　cut　him　because　he　didn't　like　him　and　not　because　he　wasn't　good　enough。　Then　George　did　a　bad　thing。　I　think　you　know　about　that。〃
　　〃Was　he　the　one　who　put　the　holes　in　our　bug's　tires？〃
　　〃Yes；　he　was。　It　was　after　school　and　your　daddy　caught　him　doing　it。〃　Now　she　hesitated　again；　but　there　was　no　question　of　evasion　now；　it　was　reduced　to　tell　the　truth　or　tell　a　lie。
　　〃Your　daddy　。　。　。　sometimes　he　does　things　he's　sorry　for　later。　Sometimes　he　doesn't　think　the　way　he　should。　That　doesn't　happen　very　often；　but　sometimes　it　does。〃
　　〃Did　he　hurt　George　Hatfield　like　the　time　I　spilled　all　his　papers？〃　Sometimes…　（Danny　with　his　arm　in　a　cast）　…he　does　things　he's　sorry　for　later。
　　Wendy　blinked　her　eyes　savagely　hard；　driving　her　tears　all　the　way　back。
　　〃Something　like　that；　honey。　Your　daddy　hit　George　to　make　him　stop　cutting　the　tires　and　George　hit　his　head。　Then　the　men　who　are　in　charge　of　the　school　said　that　George　couldn't　go　there　anymore　and　your　daddy　couldn't　teach　there　anymore。〃　She　stopped；　out　of　words；　and　waited　in　dread　for　the　deluge　of　questions。
　　〃Oh；〃　Danny　said；　and　went　back　to　looking　up　the　street。　Apparently　the　subject　was　closed。　If　only　it　could　be　closed　that　easily　for　her…　She　stood　up。　〃I'm　going　upstairs　for　a　cup　of　tea；　doc。　Want　a　couple　of　cookies　and　a　glass　of　milk？〃
　　〃I　think　I'll　watch　for　Dad。〃
　　〃I　don't　think　he'll　be　home　much　before　five。〃
　　〃Maybe　he'll　be　early。〃
　　〃Maybe；〃　she　agreed。　〃Maybe　he　will。〃　She　was　halfway　up　the　walk　when　he　called；　〃Mommy？〃
　　〃What；　Danny？〃
　　〃Do　you　want　to　go　and　live　in　that　hotel　for　the　winter？〃　Now；　which　of　five　thousand　answers　should　she　give　to　that　one？　The　way　she　had　felt　yesterday　or　last　night　or　this　morning？　They　were　all　different；　they　crossed　the　spectrum　from　rosy　pink　to　dead　black。
　　She　said：　〃If　it's　what　your　father　wants；　it's　what　I　want。〃　She　paused。
　　〃What　about　you？〃
　　〃I　guess　I　do；〃　he　said　finally。　〃Nobody　much　to　play　with　around　here。〃
　　〃You　miss　your　friends；　don't　you？〃
　　〃Sometimes　I　miss　Scott　and　Andy。　That's　about　all。〃　She　went　back　to　him　and　kissed　him；　rumpled　his　lightcolored　hair　that　was　just　losing　its　baby…fineness。　He　was　such　a　solemn　little　boy；　and　sometimes　she　wondered　just　how　he　was　supposed　to　survive　with　her　and　Jack　for　parents。
　　The　high　hopes　they　had　begun　with　came　down　to　this　unpleasant　apartment　building　in　a　city　they　didn't　know。　The　image　of　Danny　in　his　cast　rose　up　before　her　again。　Somebody　in　the　Divine　Placement　Service　had　made　a　mistake；　one　she　sometimes　feared　could　never　be　corrected　and　which　only　the　most　innocent　bystander　could　pay　for。
　　〃Stay　out　of　the　road；　doc；〃　she　said；　and　hugged　him　tight。
　　〃Sure；　Mom。〃　She　went　upstairs　and　into　the　kitchen。　She　put　on　the　teapot　and　laid　a　couple　of　Oreos　on　a　plate　for　Danny　in　case　he　decided　to　e　up　while　she　was　lying　down。　Sitting　at　the　table　with　her　big　pottery　cup　in　front　of　her；　she　looked　out　the　window　at　him；　still　sitting　on　the　curb　in　his　bluejeans　and　his　over…sized　dark　green　Stovington　Prep　sweatshirt；　the　glider　now　lying　beside　him。　The　tears　which　had　threatened　all　day　now　came　in　a　cloudburst　and　she　leaned　into　the　fragrant；　curling　steam　of　the　tea　and　wept。　In　grief　and　loss　for　the　past；　and　terror　of　the　future。
　　　
　　　》
　　WATSON
　　
　　You　lost　your　temper；　Ullman　had　said。
　　〃Okay；　here's　your　furnace；〃　Watson　said；　turning　on　a　light　in　the　dark；　musty…smelling　room。　He　was　a　beefy　man　with　fluffy　popcorn　hair；　white　shirt；　and　dark　green　chinos。　He　swung　open　a　small　square　grating　in　the　furnace's　belly　and　he　and　Jack　peered　in　together。　〃This　here's　the　pilot　light。〃　A　steady　blue…white　jet　hissing　steadily　upward　channeled　destructive　force；　but　the　key　word；　Jack　thought；　was　destructive　and　not　channeled：　if　you　stuck　your　hand　in　there；　the　barbecue　would　happen　in　three　quick　seconds。
　　Lost　your　temper。
　　（Danny；　are　you　all　right？）　The　furnace　filled　the　entire　room；　by　far　the　biggest　and　oldest　Jack　had　ever　seen。
　　〃The　pilot's　got　a　fail…safe；〃　Watson　told　him。　〃Little　sensor　in　there　measures　heat。　If　the　heat　falls　below　a　certain　point；　it　sets　off　a　buzzer　in　your　quarters。　Boiler's　on　the　other　side　of　the　wall。　I'll　take　you　around。〃　He　slammed　the　grating　shut　and　led　Jack　behind　the　iron　bulk　of　the　furnace　toward　another　door。　The　iron　radiated　a　stuporous　heat　at　them；　and　for　some　reason　Jack　thought　of　a　large；　dozing　cat。　Watson　jingled　his　keys　and　whistled。
　　Lost　your…　（When　he　went　back　into　his　study　and　saw　Danny　standing　there；　wearing　nothing　but　his　training　pants　and　a　grin；　a　slow；　red　cloud　of　rage　had　eclipsed　Jack's　reason。　It　had　seemed　slow　subjectively；　inside　his　head；　but　it　must　have　all　happened　in　less　than　a　minute。　It　only　seemed　slow　the　way　some　dreams　seem　slow。　The　bad　ones。　Every　door　and　drawer　in　his　study　seemed　to　have　been　ransacked　in　the　time　he　had　been　gone。　Closet；　cupboards；　the　sliding　bookcase。　Every　desk　drawer　yanked　out　to　the　stop。　His　manuscript；　the　three…　act　play　he　had　been　slowly　developing　from　a　novelette　he　had　written　seven　years　ago　as　an　under…graduate；　was　scattered　all　over　the　floor。　He　had　been　drinking　a　beer　and　doing　the　Act　II　corrections　when　Wendy　said　the　phone　was　for　him；　and　Danny　had　poured　the　can　of　beer　all　over　the　pages。　Probably　to　see　it　foam。　See　it　foam；　see　it　foam；　the　words　played　over　and　over　in　his　mind　like　a　single　sick　chord　on　an　out…of…tune　piano；　pleting　the　circuit　of　his　rage。　He　stepped　deliberately　toward　his　threeyear…old　son；　who　was　looking　up　at　him　with　that　pleased　grin；　his　pleasure　at　the　job　of　work　so　successfully　and　recently　pleted　in　Daddy's　study；　Danny　began　to　say　something　and　that　was　when　he　had　grabbed　Danny's　hand　and　bent　it　to　make　him　drop　the　typewriter　eraser　and　the　mechanical　pencil　he　was　clenching　in　it。
　　Danny　had　cried　out　a　little　。　。　。　no　。　。　。　no　。　。　。　tell　the　truth　。　。　。　he　screamed。　It　was　all　hard　to　remember　through　the　fog　of　anger；　the　sick　single　thump　of　that　one　Spike　Jones　chord。　Wendy　somewhere；　asking　what　was　wrong。　Her　voice　faint；　damped　by　the　inner　mist。　This　was　between　the　two　of　them。　He　had　whirled　Danny　around　to　spank　him；　his　big　adult　fingers　digging　into　the　scant　meat　of　the　boy's　forearm；　meeting　around　it　in　a　closed　fist；　and　the　snap　of　the　breaking　bone　had　not　been　loud；　not　loud　but　it　had　been　very　loud；　HUGE；　but　not　loud。　Just　enough　of　a　sound　to　slit　through　the　red　fog　like　an　arrow…　but　instead　of　letting　in　sunlight；　that　sound　let　in　the　dark　clouds　of　shame　and　remorse；　the　terror；　the　agonizing　convulsion　of　the　spirit。　A　clean　sound　with　the　past　on　one　side　of　it　and　all　the　future　on　the　other；　a　sound　like　a　breaking　pencil　lead　or　a　small　piece　of　kindling　when　you　brought　it　down　over　your　knee。　A　moment　of　utter　silence　on　the　other　side；　in　respect　to　the　beginning　future　maybe；　all　the　rest　of　his　life。　Seeing　Danny's　face　drain　of　color　until　it　was　like　cheese；　seeing　his　eyes；　always　large；　grow　larger　still；　and　glassy；　Jack　sure　the　boy　was　going　to　faint　dead　away　into　the　puddle　of　beer　and　papers；　his　own　voice；　weak　and　drunk；　slurry；　trying　to　take　it　all　back；　to　find　a　way　around　that　not　too　loud　sound　of　bone　cracking　and　into　the　past…is　there　a　status　quo　in　the　house？…saying：　Danny；　are　you　all　right？　Danny's　answering　shriek；　then　Wendy's　shocked　gasp　as　she　came　around　them　and　saw　the　pec