The Shining 原版小说-第87章
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had cut his right hand on the doorlatch。
And when he got out of here; he was going to kick some ass。
He munched the Triscuits one by one; refusing to give in to his wretched
stomach; which wanted to vomit up everything。 He thought of the Excedrins in his
pocket and decided to wait until his stomach had quieted a bit。 No sense
swallowing a painkiller if you were going to throw it right back up。 Have to use
your brain。 The celebrated Jack Torrance brain。 Aren't you the fellow who once
was going to live by his wits? Jack Torrance; best…selling author。 Jack
Torrance; acclaimed playwright and winner of the New York Critics Circle Award。
John Torrance; man of letters; esteemed thinker; winner of the Pulitzer Prize at
seventy for his trenchant book of memoirs; My Life in the Twentieth Century。 All
any of that shit boiled down to was living by your wits。
Living by your wits is always knowing where the wasps are。
He put another Triscuit into his mouth and crunched it up。
What it really came down to; he supposed; was their lack of trust in him。
Their failure to believe that he knew what was best for them and how to get it。
His wife had tried to usurp him; first by fair
(sort of)
means; then by foul。 When her little hints and whining objections had been
overturned by his own well…reasoned arguments; she had turned his boy against
him; tried to kill him with a bottle; and then had locked him; of all places; in
the goddamned fucking pantry。
Still; a small interior voice nagged him。
(Yes but where did the liquor e from? Isn't that really the central point?
You know what happens when you drink; you know it from bitter experience。 When
you drink; you lose your wits。)
He hurled the box of Triscuits across the small room。 They struck a shelf of
canned goods and fell to the floor。 He looked at the box; wiped his lips with
his hand; and then looked at his watch。 It was almost six…thirty。 He had been in
here for hours。 His wife had locked him in here and he'd been here for fucking
hours。
He could begin to sympathize with his father
The thing he'd never asked himself; Jack realized now; was exactly what had
driven his daddy to drink in the first place。 And really 。。。 when you came
right down to what his old students had been pleased to call the nifty…gritty 。。。
hadn't it been the woman he was married to? A milksop sponge of a woman;
always dragging silently around the house with an expression of doomed martyrdom
on her face? A ball and chain around Daddy's ankle? No; not ball and chain。 She
had never actively tried to make Daddy a prisoner; the way Wendy had done to
him。 For Jack's father it must have been more like the fate of McTeague the
dentist at the end of Frank Norris's great novel: handcuffed to a dead man in
the wasteland。 Yes; that was better。 Mentally and spiritually dead; his mother
had been handcuffed to his father by matrimony。 Still; Daddy had tried to do
right as he dragged her rotting corpse through life。 He had tried to bring the
four children up to know right from wrong; to understand discipline; and above
all; to respect their father。
Well; they had been ingrates; all of them; himself included。 And now he was
paying the price; his own son had turned out to be an ingrate; too。 But there
was hope。 He would get out of here somehow。 He would chastise them both; and
harshly。 He would set Danny an example; so that the day might e when Danny
was grown; a day when Danny would know what to do better than he himself had
known。
He remembered the Sunday dinner when his father had caned his mother at the
table 。。。 how horrified he and the others had been。 Now he could see how
necessary that bad been; how his father had only been feigning drunkenness; how
his wits had been sharp and alive underneath all along; watching for the
slightest sign of disrespect。
Jack crawled after the Triscuits and began to eat them again; sitting by the
door she had so treacherously bolted。 He wondered exactly what his father had
seen; and how he had caught her out by his playacting。 Had she been sneering at
him behind her hand? Sticking her tongue out? Making obscene finger gestures? Or
only looking at him insolently and arrogantly; convinced that he was too
stupidly drunk to see? Whatever it had been; he had caught her at it; and he had
chastised her sharply。 And now; twenty years later; he could finally appreciate
Daddy's wisdom。
Of course you could say Daddy had been foolish to marry such a woman; to have
handcuffed himself to that corpse in the first place 。。。 and a disrespectful
corpse at that。 But when the young marry in haste they must repent in leisure;
and perhaps Daddy's daddy had married the same type of woman; so that
unconsciously Jack's daddy had also married one; as Jack himself had。 Except
that his wife; instead of being satisfied with the passive role of having
wrecked one career and crippled another; had opted for the poisonously active
task of trying to destroy his last and best chance: to bee a member of the
Overlook's staff; and possibly to rise 。。。 all the way to the position of
manager; in time。 She was trying to deny him Danny; and Danny was his ticket of
admission。 That was foolish; of course — why would they want the son when they
could have the father? — but employers often had foolish ideas and that was the
condition that had been made。
He wasn't going to be able to reason with her; he could see that now。 He had
tried to reason with her in the Colorado Lounge; and she had refused to listen;
had hit him over the head with a bottle for his pains。 But there would be
another time; and soon。 He would get out of here。
He suddenly held his breath and cocked his head。 Somewhere a piano was playing
boogie…woogie and people were laughing and clapping along。 The sound was muffled
through the heavy wooden door; but audible。 The song was 〃There'll Be a Hot Time
in the Old Town Tonight。〃
His hands curled helplessly into fists; he had to restrain himself from
battering at the door with them。 The party had begun again。 The liquor would be
flowing freely。 Somewhere; dancing with someone else; would be the girl who had
felt so maddeningly nude under her white silk gown。
〃You'll pay for this!〃 he howled。 〃Goddam you two; you'll pay! You'll take
your goddam medicine for this; I promise you! You — 〃
〃Here; here; now;〃 a mild voice said just outside the door; 〃No need to shout;
old fellow。 I can hear you perfectly well。〃
Jack lurched to his feet
〃Grady? Is that you?〃
〃Yes; sir。 Indeed it is。 You appear to have been locked in。〃
〃Let me out; Grady。 Quickly。〃
〃I see you can hardly have taken care of the business we discussed; sir。 The
correction of your wife and son。〃
〃They're the ones who locked me in。 Pull the bolt; for God's sake!〃
〃You let them lock you in?〃 Grady's voice registered well…bred surprise。 〃Oh;
dear。 A woman half your size and a little boy? Hardly sets you off as being of
top managerial timber; does it?〃
A pulse began to beat in the clockspring of veins at Jack's right temple。 〃Let
me out; Grady。 I'll take care of them。〃
〃Will you indeed; sir? I wonder。〃 Well…bred surprise was replaced by well…bred
regret。 〃I'm pained to say that I doubt it。 I — and others — have really e to
believe that your heart is not in this; sir。 That you haven't the 。。。 the
belly for it〃
〃I do!〃 Jack shouted。 〃I do; I swear it!〃
〃You would bring us your son?〃
〃Yes! Yes!〃
〃Your wife would object to that very strongly; Mr。 Torrance。 And she appears
to be 。。。 somewhat stronger than we had imagined。 Somewhat more resourceful。
She certainly seems to have gotten the better of you。〃
Grady tittered。
〃Perhaps; Mr。 Torrance; we should have been dealing with her all along。〃
〃I'll bring him; I swear it;〃 Jack said。 His face was against the door now。 He
was sweating。 〃She won't object。 I swear she won't。 She won't be able to。〃
〃You would have to kill her; I fear;〃 Grady said coldly。
〃I'll do what I have to do。 Just let me out。〃
〃You'll give your word on it; sir?〃 Grady persisted。
〃My word; my promise; my sacred vow; whatever in hell you want。 If you — 〃
There was a flat snap as the bolt was drawn back。 The door shivered open a
quarter of an inch。 Jack's words and breath halted。 For a moment he felt that
death itself was outside that door。
The feeling passed。
He whispered: 〃Thank you; Grady。 I swear you won't regret it。 I swear you
won't。〃
There was no answer。 He became aware that all sounds had stopped except for
the cold swooping of the wind outside。
He pushed the pantry door open; the hinges squealed faintly。
The kitchen was empty。 Grady was gone。 Everything was still and frozen beneath
the cold white glare of the fluorescent bars。 His eyes caught on the large
chopping block where the three of them had eaten their meals。
Standing on top of it was a martini glass; a fifth of gin; and a plastic dish
filled with olives。
Leaning against it was one of the roque mallets from the equipment shed。