Dolores Claiborne(12)

Well, she blushed just as red as the side of the volunteer fire truck; it was actually sorta comical. 'How'd you know my middle name was Emma?'

'None of your beeswax,' I says. 'I've spent donkey's years on Little Tall, and there's no end to the things I know, and the people I know em about. You just be careful of your elbows around the furniture and Missus God's carnival glass vases, especially when you're backin up, and you won't have a thing to worry about.'

'I'll be extra careful,' she said.

I turned the Kirby on for her, and then I stepped into the hall, cupped my hands around my mouth, and hollered: 'Susy! Shawna! I'm gonna vacuum the parlor now!'

Susy was standin right there, accourse, and I tell you that girl's entire face was a question mark. I just kinda flapped my hand at her, tellin her to go on about her business and never mind me. Which she did.

I tiptoed over to the foot of the stairs n stood in my old place. I know it's silly, but I ain't been so excited since my Dad took me huntin for the first time when I was twelve. It was the same kind of feelin, too, with your heart beatin hard and kinda fiat in your chest and neck. The woman had dozens of valuable antiques as well as all that expensive glass in the parlor, but I never spared a thought to Susy Proulx in there, whirlin and twirlin amongst them like a dervish. Do you believe it?

I made myself stay where I was as long as I could, about a minute and a half, I think. Then I dashed. And when I popped into her room, there she was, face red, eyes all squinched down into slits, fists balled up, goin 'Unhh! Unhhhhh! UNHHHHH!' Her eyes flew open in a hurry when she heard the bedroom door bang open, though. Oh, I wish I'd had a camera - it was priceless.

'Dolores, you get right back out of here!' she kinda squeaks. 'I'm tryin to have a nap, and I can't do it if you're going to come busting in here like a bull with a hard-on every twenty minutes!'

'Well,' I said, 'I'll go, but first I think I'll put this old fanny-pan under you. From the smell, I'd say a little scare was about all you needed to take care of your constipation problem.'

She slapped at my hands and cussed me - she could cuss somethin fierce when she wanted to, and she wanted to every time somebody crossed her -but I didn't pay much attention. I got the bedpan under her slick as a whistle, and, like they say, everythin came out all right. When it was done, I looked at her and she looked at me and neither one of us had to say a thing. We knew each other of old, you see.

There, you nasty old quim, I was sayin with my face. I've caught up with you again, and how do you like it?

Not much, Dolores, she was sayin with hers, but that's all right; just because you've got caught up doesn't mean you'll stay caught up.

I did, though - that time I did. There were a few more little messes, but never again anythin like the time I told you about, when there was even shit on the curtains. That was really her last hurrah. After that, the times when her mind was clear got fewer and fewer, and when they came, they were short. It saved my achin back, but it made me sad, too. She was a pain, but she was one I'd gotten used to, if you see what I mean.

Could I have another glass of water, Frank?

Thank you. Talkin's thirsty work. And if you decide to let that bottle of Gentleman Jim Beam out of your desk for a little fresh air, Andy, I'll never tell.

No? Well, that's about what I expected from the likes of you.

Now - where was I?

Oh, I know. About how she was. Well, the third way she had of bein a bitch was the worst. She was a bitch because she was a sad old lady who had nothin to do but die in an upstairs bedroom on an island far from the places and the people she'd known most of her life. That was bad enough, but she was losin her mind while she did it . . . and there was part of her that knew the rest of her was like an undercut riverbank gettin ready to slide down into the stream.

She was lonely, you see, and that I didn't understand I never understood why she threw over her whole life to come out to the island in the first place. At least not until yesterday. But she was scared, too, and I could understand that just fine. Even so, she had a horrible, scary kind of strength, like a dyin queen that won't let go of her crown even at the end; it's like God Himself has got to pry it loose a finger at a time.

She had her good days and her bad ones - I told you that. What I call her fits always happened in between, when she was changin from a few days of bein bright to a week or two of bein fogged in, or from a week or two of bein fogged in to a time of bein bright again. When she was changin, it was like she was nowhere . . . and part of her knew that, too. That was the time when she'd have her hallucinations.

If they were all hallucinations. I'm not so sure about that as I used to be. Maybe I'll tell you that part and maybe I won't - I'll just have to see how I feel when the time comes.

I guess they didn't all come on Sunday afternoons or in the middle of the night; I guess it's just that I remember those ones the best because the house was so quiet and it would scare me so when she started screaming. It was like havin somebody throw a bucket of ice-cold water over you on a hot summer's day; there never was a time I didn't think my heart would stop when her screams began, and there never was a time I didn't think I'd come into her room and find her dyin. The things she was ascairt of never made sense, though. I mean, I knew she was scared, and I had a pretty good idear what she was scared of, but never why.