Direktlänk till inlägg 11 maj 2011

consider her as one dead

Av lucyshanxu lucyshanxu - 11 maj 2011 08:06

He turned his flushed, streaming face full on me. Looking back into it was almost more than I could take, but I did take it; felt I had to take it. Who had gotten him telling the story about Lucy and Frank and the note on the refrigerator that night, after all? It hadn't been Mike Wallace, or Dan Rather, that was for sure. So I looked back at him. I didn't quite dare hug him, in case that twister should somehow jump from him to me, but I kept patting his arm. "I think she's alive somewhere, that's what I think," he said. His voice was still thick and wavery, but there was a kind of pitiful weak defiance in it as well. He wasn't telling me what he believed, but what he wished he could believe. I'm pretty sure of that. "Well," I said, "you can believe that. No law against it, is there? And it isn't as if they found her body, or anything." "I like to think of her out there in Nevada singing in some little casino hotel," he said. "Not in Vegas or Reno, she couldn't make it in one of the big towns, but in Winnemucca or Ely I'm pretty sure she could get by. Some place like that. She just saw a Singer Wanted sign and give up her idea of going home to her mother. Hell, the two of them never got on worth a shit anyway, that's what Lu used to say. And she could sing, you know. I don't know if you ever heard her, but she could. I don't guess she was great, but she was good. The first time I saw her, she was singing in the lounge of the Marriott Hotel. In Columbus, Ohio, that was. Or, another possibility..." He hesitated, then went on in a lower voice. "Prostitution is legal out there in Nevada, you know. Not in all the counties, but in most of them. She could be working one of them Green Lantern trailers or the Mustang Ranch. Lots of women have got a streak of whore in them. Lu had one. I don't mean she stepped around on me, or slept around on me, so I can't say how I know, but I do. She ... yes, she could be in one of those places." He stopped, eyes distant, maybe imagining Lulubelle on a bed in the back room of a Nevada trailer whorehouse, Lulubelle wearing nothing but stockings, washing off some unknown cowboy's stiff cock while from the other room came the sound of Steve Earle and the Dukes singing "Six Days on the Road" or a TV playing Hollywood Squares. Lulubelle whoring but not dead, the car by the side of the road - the little Subaru she had brought to the marriage - meaning nothing. The way an animal's look, so seemingly attentive, usually means nothing. "I can believe that if I want," he said, swiping his swollen eyes with insides of his wrists. "Sure," I said. "You bet, L.T." Wondering what the grinning men who listened to his story while they ate their lunches would make of this L.T., this shaking man with his pale cheeks and red eyes and hot skin. "Hell," he said, I do believe that." He hesitated, then said it again: "I do believe that." When I got back, Roslyn was in bed with a book in her hand and the covers pulled up to her breasts. Holly had gone home while I was driving L.T back to his house. Roslyn was in a bad mood, and I found out why soon enough. The woman behind the Mona Lisa smile had been quite taken with my friend. Smitten by him, maybe. And my wife most definitely did not approve. "How did he lose his license?" she asked, and before I could answer: "Drinking, wasn't it?" "Drinking, yes. OUM' I sat down on my side of the bed and slipped off my shoes. "But that was nearly six months ago, and if he keeps his nose clean another two months, he gets it back. I think he will. He goes to AA, you know." My wife grunted, clearly not impressed. I took off my shirt, sniffed the armpits, hung it back in the closet. I'd only worn it an hour or two, just for dinner. "You know," my wife said, I think it's a wonder the police didn't look a little more closely at him after his wife disappeared." "They asked him some questions," I said, "but only to get as much information as they could. There was never any question of him doing it, Ros. They were never suspicious of him." "Oh, you're so sure." "As a matter of fact, I am. I know some stuff. Lulubelle called her mother from a hotel in eastern Colorado the day she left, and called her again from Salt Lake City the next day. She was fine then. Those were both weekdays, and L.T was at the plant. He was at the plant the day they found her car parked off that ranch road near Caliente as well. Unless he can magically transport himself from place to place in the blink of an eye, he didn't kill her. Besides, he wouldn't. He loved her."

This is a classical series of Belstaff Blouson Jacketsr let you down. Black waxed cotton biker jacket from Belstaff Blouson which fastens with an off centre two way zip. Belstaff Shoulder Bag lady jacket,quilted panels to the front and back, two press stud fastening breast pockets one with embroidered designer tag, buckle fastening collar, two large press stud fastening pockets to the front, two zip fastening vents to the sides, full length sleeves, tonal buckle fastening belt at waist with press studs and a concealed zip down front for closure.Belstaff clothing to prevent the rider elements. Belstaff Blazer Jackets icon into account the need to take care of everyone, from the famous motorcycle enthusiasts, who feel that they are a luxury brand name, a driver's luxury materials.Women folder Kerbey Dafu motorcycle jacke. Belstaff Colonial Bag 556 does exist as a brand, trendy fashion clothing, motorcycle approach. Belstaff plans global expansion, and turned Lifestyle brand. Fashion brand Belstaff is planning to expand its retail network this summer in Paris and Los Angeles to open a new store. elstaff for the summit leaders launched a limited edition black leather jacket, and also designed the first ladies of exquisite women's windbreaker.This picture is like the fairy tale world of Cinderella, only in fairy tales, that is a transformed former modest role, while regression reality, but you found that "Cinderella" has become a true hero this season.The flagship jacket from the Belstaff Bag vintage leather collection, the Belstaff Shoulder Bag is a cow leather jacket in Black - Gold with a washed leather finish.Welcome Belstaff jacket. Belstaff men's jacket is generous style, texture, leather can, lock fat, strong colors, clean, decent, more stylish sense.Belstaff is your choice, if you think you simply need to be comfortable.Belstaff Colonial Shoulder Bag is more temperament.

"The cat's talking was maybe the worst, as far as Lulu was concerned. She couldn't stand it. One night Lulubelle says to me, 'If that cat doesn't stop yowling, L.T., I think I'm going to hit it with an encyclopedia.' " 'That's not yowling,' I said, 'that's chatting.' " 'Well,' Lulu says, - 'I wish it would stop chatting.' "And right about then, Lucy jumped up into my lap and she did shut up. She always did, except for a little low purring, way back in her throat. Purring that really was purring. I scratched her between her ears like she likes, and I happened to look up. Lulu turned her eyes back down on her book, but before she did, what I saw was real hate. Not for me. For Screwlucy. Throw an encyclopedia at it? She looked like she'd like to stick the cat between two encyclopedias and just kind of clap it to death. Sometimes Lulu would come into the kitchen and catch the cat up on the table and swat it off. I asked her once if she'd ever seen me swat Frank off the bed that way - he'd get up on it, you know, always on her side, and leave these nasty tangles of white hair. When I said that, Lulu gave me a kind of grin. Her teeth were showing, anyway. 'If you ever tried, you'd find yourself a finger or three shy, most likely,' she says. "Sometimes Lucy really was Screwlucy. Cats are moody, and sometimes they get manic; anyone who's ever had one will tell you that. Their eyes get big and kind of glary, their tails bush out, they go racing around the house; sometimes they'll rear right up on their back legs and prance, boxing at the air, like they're fighting with something they can see but human beings can't. Lucy got into a mood like that one night when she was about a year old - couldn't have been more than three weeks from the day when I come home and found Lulubelle gone. "Anyway, Lucy came pelting in from the kitchen, did a kind of racing slide on the wood floor, jumped over Frank, and went skittering up the living room drapes, paw over paw. Left some pretty good holes in them, with threads hanging down. Then she just perched at the top on the rod, staring around the room with her blue eyes all big and wild and the tip of her tail snapping back and forth. "Frank only jumped a little and then put his muzzle back on Lulubelle's shoe, but the cat scared the hell out of Lulubelle, who was deep in her book, and when she looked up at the cat, I could see that outright hate in her eyes again. All right,' she said, 'that's enough. Everybody out of the goddam pool. We're going to find a good home for that little blue-eyed bitch, and if we're not smart enough to find a home for a purebred Siamese, we're going to take her to the animal shelter. I've had enough.' " 'What do you mean?' I ask her. " 'Are you blind?' she asks. 'Look what she did to my drapes I They're full of holes!' 'You want to see drapes with holes in them,' I say, 'why don't you go upstairs and look at the ones on my side of the bed. The bottoms are all ragged. Because he chews them.' 'That's different,' she says, glaring at me. 'That's different and you know it.' "Well, I wasn't going to let that lie. No way I was going to let that one lie. 'The only reason you think it's different is because you like the dog you gave me and you don't like the cat I gave you,' I says. 'But I'll tell you one thing, Mrs. DeWitt: you take the cat to the animal shelter for clawing the living room drapes on Tuesday, I guarantee you I'll take the dog to the animal shelter for chewing the bedroom drapes on Wednesday. You got that?' "She looked at me and started to cry. She threw her book at me and called me a bastard. A mean bastard. I tried to grab hold of her, make her stay long enough for me to at least try to make up - if there was a way to make up without backing down, which I didn't mean to do that time - but she pulled her arm out of my hand and ran out of the room. Frank ran out after her. They went upstairs and the bedroom door slammed. "I gave her half an hour or so to cool off, then I went upstairs myself. The bedroom door was still shut, and when I started to open it, I was pushing against Frank. I could move him, but it was slow work with him sliding across the floor, and also noisy work. He was growling. And I mean growling, my friends; that was no fucking purr. If I'd gone in there, I believe he would have tried his solemn best to bite my manhood off. I slept on the couch that night. First time. "A month later, give or take, she was gone." If L.T had timed his story right (most times he did; practice makes perfect), the bell signaling back to work at the W.S Hepperton Processed Meats Plant of Ames, Iowa, would ring just about then, sparing him any questions from the new men (the old hands knew. . . and knew better than to ask) about whether or not L.T and Lulubelle had reconciled, or if he knew where she was today, or - the all-time sixty-four-thousand-dollar question - if she and Frank were still together. There's nothing like the back-to-work bell to close off life's more embarrassing questions. "Well," L.T would say, putting away his thermos and then standing up and giving a stretch, "it has all led me to create what I call L.T DeWitt's Theory of Pets." They'd look at him expectantly, just as I had the first time I heard him use that grand phrase, but they would always end up feeling let down, just as I always had; a story that good deserved a better punchline, but L.T.'s never changed. "If your dog and cat are getting along better than you and your wife," he'd say, "you better expect to come home some night and find a Dear John note on your refrigerator door." He told that story a lot, as I've said, and one night when he came to my house for dinner, he told it for my wife and my wife's sister. My wife had invited Holly, who had been divorced almost two years, so the boys and the girls would balance up. I'm sure that's all it was, because Roslyn never liked L.T DeWitt. Most people do, most people take to him like hands take to warm water, but Roslyn has never been most people. She didn't like the story of the note on the fridge and the pets, either - I could tell she didn't, although she chuckled in the right places. Holly ... shit, I don't know. I've never been able to tell what that girl's thinking. Mostly just sits there with her hands in her lap, smiling like Mona Lisa. It was my fault that time, though, and I admit it. L.T didn't want to tell it, but I kind of egged him on because it was so quiet around the dinner table, just the click of silverware and the clink of glasses, and I could almost feel my wife disliking L.T It seemed to be coming off her in waves. And if L.T had been able to feel that little Jack Russell terrier disliking him, he would probably be able to feel my wife doing the same. That's what I figured, anyhow. So he told it, mostly to please me, I suppose, and he rolled his eyeballs in all the right places, as if saying "Gosh, she fooled me right and proper, didn't she?" and my wife chuckled here and there - they sounded as phony to me as Monopoly money looks - and Holly smiled her little Mona Lisa smile with her eyes downcast. Otherwise the dinner went off all right, and when it was over L.T told Roslyn that he thanked her for "a sportin-fine meal" (whatever that is) and she told him to come any time, she and I liked to see his face in the place. That was a lie on her part, but I doubt there was ever a dinner party in this history of the world where a few lies weren't told. So it went off all right, at least until I was driving him home. L.T started to talk about how it would be a year Lulubelle had been gone in just another week or so, their fourth anniversary, which is flowers if you're old-fashioned and electrical appliances if you're newfangled. Then he said as how Lulubelle's mother - at whose house Lulubelle had never shown up - was going to put up a marker with Lulubelle's name on it at the local cemetery. "Mrs. Simms says we have to consider her as one dead," L.T said, and then he began to bawl. I was so shocked I nearly ran off the goddam road. He cried so hard that when I was done being shocked, I began to be afraid all that pent-up grief might kill him with a stroke or a burst blood vessel or something. He rocked back and forth in the seat and slammed his open hands down on the dashboard. It was like there was a twister loose inside him. Finally I pulled over to the side of the road and began patting his shoulder. I could feel the heat of his skin right through his shirt, so hot it was baking. "Come on, L.T.," I said. "That's enough." "I just miss her," he said in a voice so thick with tears I could barely understand what he was saying. "Just so goddam much. I come home and there's no one but the cat, crying and crying, and pretty soon I'm crying, too, both of us crying while I fill up her dish with that goddam muck she eats."

 
ANNONS

Från
    Kom ihåg mig
URL

Säkerhetskod
   Spamskydd  

Kommentar

Av lucyshanxu lucyshanxu - 11 maj 2011 08:16

Bless my very existence!" cried the eccentric man. "I was beginningto fear something had happened to you. I am glad that you are allright. I heard voices, and I imagined--" "It's all right," Mr. Swift reassured him. "There was a strangerabout my shop...

Av lucyshanxu lucyshanxu - 11 maj 2011 08:09

Working a 9 to 5 job and then adding in the time to commute, plus having kids means very little time for parents to do much of anything, especially in households where both parents work or in single parent homes. That means very few homecooked meals ...

Av lucyshanxu lucyshanxu - 11 maj 2011 07:41

He having stood me in such excellent stead that afternoon, it was rather a pity that, come nightfall and my first really clandestine visit to Rennie, I was no longer prepared to be Joe Morgan or any other sort of dancer. I was never highly sexed. For...

Av lucyshanxu lucyshanxu - 10 maj 2011 06:25

Miss Crawley had not long been established at the Hall before Rebecca’s fascinations had won the heart of that good-natured London rake, as they had of the country innocents whom we have been describing. Taking her accustomed drive, one day, sh...

Av lucyshanxu lucyshanxu - 10 maj 2011 06:22

Very soon then after her arrival, Rebecca began to take a regular place in Mrs. Crawley’s bulletin from the Hall. It was to this effect: “The black porker’s killed—weighed x stone—salted the sides—pig’s puddi...

Presentation

Fråga mig

0 besvarade frågor

Kalender

Ti On To Fr
           
1
2
3 4 5
6
7 8
9 10 11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
<<<
Maj 2011
>>>

Sök i bloggen

Senaste inläggen

Kategorier

Arkiv

RSS

Besöksstatistik

Följ bloggen

Följ lucyshanxu med Blogkeen
Följ lucyshanxu med Bloglovin'

Skaffa en gratis bloggwww.bloggplatsen.se