sk.everythingseventual-第52章

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heet　of　paper　with　Robin's　autograph　on　it；　held　it　up　next　to　Kinnell's　check；　and　shook　her　head；　as　if　the　similarity　of　the　signatures　amazed　her。　'But　men　are　different。'
　　'Are　they？'
　　'Oh；　yes；　much　less　sensitive。　By　the　end　of　his　life；　Bobby　Hastings　was　just　skin　and　bone；　dirty　all　the　time…you　could　smell　him…and　he　wore　the　same　Tee…shirt；　day　in　and　day　out。　It　had　a　picture　of　the　Led　Zeppelins　on　it。　His　eyes　were　red；　he　had　a　scraggle　on　his　cheeks　that　you　couldn't　quite　call　a　beard；　and　his　pimples　were　ing　back；　like　he　was　a　teenager　again。　But　she　loved　him；　because　a　mother's　love　sees　past　all　those　things。'
　　The　woman　who　had　been　looking　at　the　silverware　and　the　glasses　came　over　with　a　set　of　Star　Wars　placemats。　Mrs。　Diment　took　five　dollars　for　them；　wrote　the　sale　carefully　down　on　her　pad　below　'ONE　DOZ。　ASSORTED　POTHOLDERS　&　HOTPADS；'　then　turned　back　to　Kinnell。
　　'They　went　out　to　Arizona；'　she　said；　'to　stay　with　Iris's　folks。　I　know　George　is　looking　for　work　out　there　in　Flagstaff…he's　a　draftsman…but　I　don't　know　if　he's　found　any　yet。　If　he　has；　I　suppose　we　might　not　ever　see　them　again　here　in　Rosewood。　She　marked　out　all　the　stuff　she　wanted　me　to　sell…Iris　did…and　told　me　I　could　keep　twenty　per　cent　for　my　trouble。　I'll　send　a　check　for　the　rest。　There　won't　be　much。'　She　sighed。
　　'The　picture　is　great；'　Kinnell　said。
　　'Yeah；　too　bad　he　burned　the　rest；　because　most　of　this　other　stuff　is　your　standard　yard　sale　crap；　pardon　my　French。　What's　that？'　Kinnell　had　turned　the　picture　around。　There　was　a　length　of　Dymotape　pasted　to　the　back。
　　'A　title；　I　think。'
　　'What　does　it　say？'
　　He　grabbed　the　picture　by　the　sides　and　held　it　up　so　she　could　read　it　for　herself。　This　put　the　picture　at　eye…level　to　him；　and　he　studied　it　eagerly；　once　again　taken　by　the　simpleminded　weirdness　of　the　subject：　kid　behind　the　wheel　of　a　muscle　car；　a　kid　with　a　nasty；　knowing　grin　that　revealed　the　filed　points　of　an　even　nastier　set　of　teeth。
　　It　fits；　he　thought。　If　ever　a　title　fitted　a　painting；　this　one　does。
　　'The　Road　Virus　Heads　North；'　she　read。　'I　never　noticed　that　when　my　boys　were　lugging　stuff　out。　Is　it　the　title；　do　you　think？'
　　'Must　be。'　Kinnell　couldn't　take　his　eyes　off　the　blond　kid's　grin。　I　know　something；　the　grin　said。　I　know　something　you　never　will。
　　'Well；　I　guess　you'd　have　to　believe　the　fella　who　did　this　was　high　on　drugs；'　she　said；　sounding　upset…authentically　upset；　Kinnell　thought。　'No　wonder　he　could　kill　himself　and　break　his　mamma's　heart。'
　　'I've　got　to　be　heading　north　myself；'　Kinnell　said；　tucking　the　picture　under　his　arm。　'Thanks　for…'
　　'Mr。　Kinnell？'
　　'Yes？'
　　'Can　I　see　your　driver's　license？'　She　apparently　found　nothing　ironic　or　even　amusing　in　this　request。　'I　ought　to　write　the　number　on　the　back　of　your　check。'
　　Kinnell　put　the　picture　down　so　he　could　dig　for　his　wallet。　'Sure。　You　bet。'　The　woman　who'd　bought　the　Star　Wars　placemats　had　paused　on　her　way　back　to　her　car　to　watch　some　of　the　soap　opera　playing　on　the　lawn　TV。　Now　she　glanced　at　the　picture；　which　Kinnell　had　propped　against　his　shins。
　　'Ag；'　she　said。　'Who'd　want　an　ugly　old　thing　like　that？　I'd　think　about　it　every　time　I　turned　the　lights　out。'
　　'What's　wrong　with　that？'　Kinnell　asked。
　　
　　Kinnell's　Aunt　Trudy　lived　in　Wells；　which　is　about　six　miles　north　of　the　Maine…New　Hampshire　border。　Kinnell　pulled　off　at　the　exit　which　circled　the　bright　green　Wells　water　tower；　the　one　with　the　ic　sign　on　it　（KEEP　MAINE　GREEN；　BRING　MONEY　in　letters　four　feet　high）；　and　five　minutes　later　he　was　turning　into　the　driveway　of　her　neat　little　saltbox　house。　No　TV　sinking　into　the　lawn　on　paper　ashtrays　here；　only　Aunt　Trudy's　amiable　masses　of　flowers。　Kinnell　needed　to　pee　and　hadn't　wanted　to　take　care　of　that　in　a　roadside　rest…stop　when　he　could　e　here；　but　he　also　wanted　an　update　on　all　the　family　gossip。　Aunt　Trudy　retailed　the　best；　she　was　to　gossip　what　Zabar's　is　to　deli。　Also；　of　course；　he　wanted　to　show　her　his　new　acquisition。
　　She　came　out　to　meet　him；　gave　him　a　hug；　and　covered　his　face　with　her　patented　little　birdy…kisses；　the　ones　that　had　made　him　shiver　all　over　as　a　kid。
　　'Want　to　see　something？'　he　asked　her。　'It'll　blow　your　panty…hose　off。'
　　'What　a　charming　thought；'　Aunt　Trudy　said；　clasping　her　elbows　in　her　palms　and　looking　at　him　with　amusement。
　　He　opened　the　trunk　and　took　out　his　new　picture。　It　affected　her；　all　right；　but　not　in　the　way　he　had　expected。　The　color　fell　out　of　her　face　in　a　sheet…he　had　never　seen　anything　quite　like　it　in　his　entire　life。　'It's　horrible；'　she　said　in　a　tight；　controlled　voice。　'I　hate　it。　I　suppose　I　can　see　what　attracted　you　to　it；　Richie；　but　what　you　play　at；　it　does　for　real。　Put　it　back　in　your　trunk；　like　a　good　boy。　And　when　you　get　to　the　Saco　River；　why　don't　you　pull　over　into　the　breakdown　lane　and　throw　it　in？'
　　He　gaped　at　her。　Aunt　Trudy's　lips　were　pressed　tightly　together　to　stop　them　trembling；　and　now　her　long；　thin　hands　were　not　just　clasping　her　elbows　but　clutching　them；　as　if　to　keep　her　from　flying　away。　At　that　moment　she　looked　not　sixty…one　but　ninety…one。
　　'Auntie？'　Kinnell　spoke　tentatively；　not　sure　what　was　going　on　here。　'Auntie；　what's　wrong？'
　　'That；'　she　said；　unlocking　her　right　hand　and　pointing　at　the　picture。　'I'm　surprised　you　don't　feel　it　more　strongly　yourself；　an　imaginative　guy　like　you。'
　　Well；　he　felt　something；　obviously　he　had；　or　he　never　would　have　unlimbered　his　checkbook　in　the　first　place。　Aunt　Trudy　was　feeling　something　else；　though　。　。　。　or　something　more。　He　turned　the　picture　around　so　he　could　see　it　（he　had　been　holding　it　out　for　her；　so　the　side　with　the　Dymotaped　title　faced　him）；　and　looked　at　it　again。　What　he　saw　hit　him　in　the　chest　and　belly　like　a　one…two　punch。
　　The　picture　had　changed；　that　was　punch　number　one。　Not　much；　but　it　had　clearly　changed。　The　young　blond　man's　smile　was　wider；　revealing　more　of　those　filed　cannibal…teeth。　His　eyes　were　squinted　down　more；　too；　giving　his　face　a　look　which　was　more　knowing　and　nastier　than　ever。
　　The　degree　of　a　smile　。　。　。　the　vista　of　sharpened　teeth　widening　slightly　。　。　。　the　tilt　and　squint　of　the　eyes　。　。　。　all　pretty　subjective　stuff。　A　person　could　be　mistaken　about　things　like　that；　and　of　course　he　hadn't　really　studied　the　painting　before　buying　it。　Also；　there　had　been　the　distraction　of　Mrs。　Diment；　who　could　probably　talk　the　cock　off　a　brass　monkey。
　　But　there　was　also　punch　number　two；　and　that　wasn't　subjective。　In　the　darkness　of　the　Audi's　trunk；　the　blond　young　man　had　turned　his　left　arm；　the　one　cocked　on　the　door；　so　that　Kinnell　could　now　see　a　tattoo　which　had　been　hidden　before。　It　was　a　vine…wrapped　dagger　with　a　bloody　tip。　Below　it　were　words。　Kinnell　could　make　out　DEATH　BEFORE；　and　he　supposed　you　didn't　have　to　be　a　big　best…selling　novelist　to　figure　out　the　word　that　was　still　hidden。　DEATH　BEFORE　DISHONOR　was；　after　all；　just　the　sort　of　a　thing　a　hoodoo　travelling　man　like　this　was　apt　to　have　on　his　arm。　And　an　ace　of　spades　on　the　other　one；　Kinnell　thought。
　　'You　hate　it；　don't　you；　Auntie？'　he　asked。
　　'Yes；'　she　said；　and　now　he　saw　an　even　more　amazing　thing：　she　had　turned　away　from　him；　pretending　to　look　out　at　the　street　（which　was　dozing　and　deserted　in　the　hot　afternoon　sunlight）　so　she　wouldn't　have　to　look　at　the　picture。　'In　fact；　Auntie　loathes　it。　Now　put　it　away　and　e　on　into　the　house。　I'll　bet　you　need　to　use　the　bathroom。'
　　
　　Aunt　Trudy　recovered　her　savoir…faire　almost　as　soon　as　the　watercolor　was　back　in　the　trunk。　They　talked　about　Kinnell's　mother　（Pasadena）；　his　sister　（Baton　Rouge）；　and　his　ex…wife；　Sally　（Nashua）。　Sally　was　a　space…case　who　ran　an　animal　shelter　out　of　a　double…wide　trailer　and　published　two　newsletters　each　month。　Survivors　was　filled　with　astral　info　and　supposedly　true　tales　of　the　spirit　world；　Visitors　contained　the　reports　of　people　who'd　had　close　encounters　with　space　aliens。　Kinnell　no　longer　went　to　fan　conventions　which　specialized　in　fantasy　and　horror。　One　Sally　in　a　lifetime；　he　thought；　was　enough。
　　When　Aunt　Trudy　walked　him　back　out　to　the　car；　it　was　four…thirty　and　he'd　turned　down　the　obligatory　dinner　invitation。　'I　can　get　most　of　the　way　back　to　Derry　in　daylight；　if　I　leave　now。'
　　'Okay；'　she　said。　'And　I'm　sorry　I　was　so　mean　about　your　picture。　Of　course　you　like　it；　you've　always　liked　your　。　。　。　your　oddities。　It　just　hit　me　the　wrong　way。　That　awful　face。'　She　shuddered。　'As　if　we　were　looking　at　him　。　。　。　and　he　was　looking　right　back。'
　　Kinnell　grinned　and　kissed　the　tip　of　her　nose。　'You've　got　quite　an　imagination　yourself；　sweetheart。'
　　'Of　course；　it　runs　in　the　family。　Are　you　sure　you　don't　want　to　use　the　facility　again　before　you　go？'
　　He　shook　his　head。　'That's　not　why　I　stop；　anyway；　not　really。'
　　'Oh？　Why　do　you？'
　　He　grinned。　'Because　you　know　who's　being　naughty　and　who's　being　nice。　And　you're　not　afraid　to　share　what　you　know。'
　　'Go　on；　get　going；'　she　said；　pushing　at　his　shoulder　but　clearly　pleased。　'If　I　were　you；　I'd　want　to　get　home　quick。　I　wouldn't　want　that　nasty　guy　riding　along　behind　me　in　the　dark；　even　in　the　trunk。　I　mean；　did　you　see　his　teeth？　Ag！'
　　
　　He　got　on　the　turnpike；　trading　scenery　for　speed；　and　made　it　as　far　as　the　Gray　service　area　before　deciding　to　have　another　look　at　the　picture。　Some　of　his　aunt's　unease　had　transmitted　itself　to　him　like　a　germ；　but　he　didn't　think　that　was　really　the　problem。　The　problem　was　his　perception　that　the　picture　had　changed。
　　The　service　area　featured　the　usual　gourmet　chow…burgers　by　Roy　Rogers；　cones　by　TCBY…and　had　a　small；　littered　picnic　and　dog…walking　area　at　the　rear。　Kinnell　parked　next　to　a　van　with　Missouri　plates；　drew　in　a　deep　breath；　let　it　out。　He'd　driven　to　Boston　in　order　to　kill　some　plot　gremlins　in　the　new　book；　which　was　pretty　ironic。　He'd　spent　the　ride　down　working　out　what　he'd　say　on　the　panel　if　certain　tough　questions　were　tossed　at　him；　but　none　had　been…once　they'd　found　out　he　didn't　know　where　he　got　his　ideas；　and　yes；　he　did　sometimes　scare　himself；　they'd　only　wanted　to　know　how　you　got　an　agent。
　　And　now；　heading　back；　he　couldn't　think　of　anything　but　the　damned　picture。
　　Had　it　changed？　If　it　had；　if　the　blond　kid's　arm　had　moved　enough　so　he；　Kinnell；　could　read　a　tattoo　which　had　been　partly　hidden　before；　then　he　could　write　a　column　for　one　of　Sally's　magazines。　Hell；　a　four…part　series。　If；　on　the　other　hand；　it　wasn't　changing；　then　。　。　。　what？　He　was　suffering　a　hallucination？　Having　a　breakdown？　That　was　crap。　His　life　was　pretty　much　in　order；　and　he　felt　good。　Had；　anyway；　until　his　fascination　with　the　picture　had　begun　to　waver　into　something　else；　something　darker。
　　'Ah；　fuck；　you　just　saw　it　wrong　the　first　time；'　he　said　out　loud　as　he　got　out　of　the　car。　Well；　maybe。　Maybe。　It　wouldn't　be　the　first　time　his　head　had　screwed　with　his　perceptions。　That　was　also　a　part　of　what　he　did。　Sometimes　his　imagination　got　a　little　。　。　。　well　。　。　。
　　'Feisty；'　Kinnell　said；　and　opened　the　tru