Chapter 9 There is so much water at the doorstep

My husband has a good appetite, but I don't think he is really hungry.He chewed, his arms resting on the table, his eyes fixed on something far across the room.He glanced at me, then looked away.He wiped his mouth with a napkin, shrugged, and ate again. "Why are you staring at me?" he said. "What for?" he said, putting down his fork. "Am I staring at you?" I said, shaking my head. The phone rang. "Don't answer," he said. "Probably your mother," I said. "Just wait and see," he said. I picked up the microphone and listened for a while.My husband stopped.

"What did I tell you?" he said when I hung up the phone.He ate again, then dropped the napkin on the plate.He said, "Why the fuck is everyone so meddling? Tell me what I did wrong, and I listen! There were other people there besides me. We talked it over, we made decisions together. There's no way we'd turn around Go back, we're five miles from the car. I don't need you to judge me. Do you hear?" "You know it yourself," I said. "What do I know, Claire? Tell me. Tell me what I should know. I know nothing but this." He gave me a smug, meaningful look. "She's dead," he said again. "I'm as sad as everyone else, but she died."

"That's the problem," I said. He raised his hands.He pushed the chair off the table, got a cigarette, and went out into the yard with a can of beer.I saw him sit down on the lawn chair and pick up the newspaper again. His name was on the front page, along with the names of his friends. I closed my eyes and leaned on the edge of the pool.Then I sweep my arm across the dripboard, sweeping the dishes all over the floor. He didn't move.I knew he heard it, he looked up to listen, but he didn't move.He didn't turn around. Him and Gordon?Johnson, Mel?Don, Fern?Williams, they played poker, bowled and fished together.Every year at the beginning of spring or summer, before the arrival of visiting relatives and friends, they would go fishing together. They were serious people, family-oriented, and serious about their work.Their kids go to school with our son Dean.

Last Friday, these family men went to the Naches River.They parked the car in the mountains and went on foot to the fishing place.They brought bedding, food, cards and whiskey. They spotted the girl before they even pitched their tent.Is it Mel?Don found out.She was naked and stuck between some branches reaching out to the water. He beckoned the others to come and see.They discuss what to do.One of them—my Stuart didn't say who—said they should go back at once.Others were stirring the sand with their feet, saying they didn't want to.They make excuses that they are tired and it is getting late when in fact the girl has nowhere to go and so on.

Finally they went to pitch the tent.They built a bonfire and drank whiskey.After the moon came up, they chatted about the girl.Some say they can't let the body float away.They came to the river with flashlights.One of them - probably Stuart - waded into the water and caught her.He grabbed her by the fingers and pulled her to the shore.A length of nylon rope was tied around her wrist, and the remaining part of the nylon rope was wrapped around a tree. The next morning they cooked breakfast and drank coffee and whiskey before they split up and went fishing.That night they burned fish and potatoes, drank coffee and whiskey, and went down to the river with their used pots and pans to wash up near the girl.

They played cards for a while afterwards.Maybe they played until the cards were out of sight.Fern?Williams went to bed first, while the others told stories.Gordon?Johnson said the trout they caught were hard because the river was so cold. The next morning they got up very late, drank whisky, fished for a while, packed up their tents, rolled up their sleeping bags, packed up their things, and headed out.They drove to a telephone booth.It was Stuart on the phone, and the others stood in the hot sun and listened.He gave the police their names.They have nothing to hide.Don't feel guilty about anything.They said they would wait there to give more detailed directions and their testimony.

I was asleep when he got home.I woke up when I heard movement in the kitchen.I saw him leaning against the refrigerator with a can of beer.He hugged me in his thick arms, stroking my back with his big hands.Once in bed, he put his hands on me again and waited, as if thinking of something else, as I turned around and spread my legs.After it was all over, I don't think he slept. In the morning, he got up before I got out of bed.I guess I'm going to see what's in the newspaper. Just after eight o'clock, the phone rang. "To hell with it," I heard him yell into the microphone.

The phone rang again, "I have nothing to add other than what I have already told the police!" He dropped the receiver hard. "what's going on?" i said At this time, he told me what I just told you. I swept up the broken plates and glasses and went outside.Stuart was lying on his back in the grass, newspapers and beer cans within reach. "Stuart, shall we go for a drive?" I said. He turned over. "Bring a couple of beers," he said.He stood up and touched my ass with his hand as he passed me. "Wait for me," he said. We drove across town without a word.He stopped at a roadside fair to buy beer.I noticed a large stack of newspapers by the entrance.On the top step, a fat woman in a printed suit is handing a little girl a vanilla lollipop.After a few minutes, we crossed Iverson Creek and turned into a picnic area.The stream passed under the bridge and flowed to a pond a few hundred yards away.I saw some people there.They are fishing.

There is so much water at your doorstep. I said, "Why did you go so far away?" "Don't mess with me," he said. We sat on a bench in the sun while he opened a beer and listened.He said, "Take it easy, Claire." "They said they were innocent. They said they were insane." He said, "Who?" He said, "What are you talking about?" "Brother Maddox. They killed a girl named Arlene Haberly, right where I grew up. They cut off her head and threw her into the Clay? I was a little girl when it happened." "You're going to fuck me," he said.

I look at the creek.There I was, eyes open, face down, staring at the moss at the bottom of the creek, dead. "I don't know what's wrong with you," he said on the way home. "You make me more and more angry." I have nothing to say to him. He tried to concentrate on driving, but kept looking in the rearview mirror. he knows. In the morning, Stuart thought he was asking me to sleep a little longer.But I woke up before the alarm went off, lying on the edge of the bed, away from his hairy legs, thinking. He sent Dean off to school, then shaved, dressed, and left for work.During the period, he looked into the bedroom twice and coughed a few times, but I didn't open my eyes.

I found a note from him in the kitchen, signed "LOVE". I sat in the breakfast room drinking coffee and left a circle of coffee on the note.I glanced at the newspaper, turned it over on the table, and brought it closer to see what was written on it.The body has been claimed, but it has been inspected, stuffed in, cut open, weighed, measured, put back in, sewn up. I took the newspaper and sat there thinking for a long time.Then I made a reservation call to the barbershop. I sat under the dryer with a magazine on my lap while Millie did my nails. "I'm going to a funeral tomorrow," I said. "I'm so sad to hear that," Millie said. "Murdered," I said. "It was the worst," Millie said. "We don't know each other that well," I said, "but still." "We'll make you up," Millie said. I made a bed on the couch that night and I was the first one up in the morning.I make coffee and make breakfast while he shaves. He appeared at the kitchen door, a towel draped over his bare shoulders, and inspected. "Here's the coffee," I said. "Eggs will be ready in a while." I wake up Dean, and the three of us have breakfast together.Whenever Stuart looked at me, I asked Dean if he wanted more milk, more bread, and so on. "I'll call you today," Stuart said when he opened the door. I said, "I won't be home today." "Okay," he said. "that's it." I dress carefully.I tried on a hat and looked at it in the mirror.I left a note for Dean. Baby, Mummy has something to do in the afternoon and will come back later.You play at home or in the backyard until we get back. love mommy I looked at the word "love" and drew a line under it.Then look at the word "backyard".Is this the right way to write the word? I drove through the farm, passing oat fields, sugar beet orchards, apple orchards and cattle grazing pastures.Before long, everything changed.There were fewer farms, houses more like shanties, towering trees instead of orchards.Then there are mountains.Far low on the right, the Naches River flashed into view now and then. A green pick-up truck appeared behind me and it drove for several miles behind me.Every now and then I slow down when I shouldn't, hoping he will pass.Then it started to accelerate, and obviously the timing was wrong.I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my fingers ached. On a flat, car-free road, he overtook another car, but he and I drove side by side for a while, a man with a crew-shaven head and blue overalls, and we looked at each other.He waved his hand, pressed the horn twice, and passed. I slowed down and found a place.I turned off the road and turned off the fire.I can hear the sound of the river below the woods.That's when I heard the pickup truck come back. I locked the door and rolled up the window. "What's wrong with you?" the man said. ’ He tapped on the windowpane. ‘Are you all right? ’ He leaned his arm against the car door and pressed his face against the window. I stared at him, wondering what else to do. "What happened to you? How did you lock yourself in the car?" I shake my head. "Roll down the windows." He shook his head, glanced at the highway, then back at me. "Roll down the window." "I'm sorry," I said, "I have to go." "Open the door," he said, as if he wasn't listening. "You'll suffocate in there." He looked at my breasts, my legs.i know he's doing this "Hi, Honey," he said. "I just wanted to help you." The coffin has been covered and covered with flower petals.No sooner had I sat down in the back of the chapel than the organ began to play.People kept coming in and finding their seats.One boy was wearing bell-bottoms and a yellow T-shirt.A door opened and family members entered the chapel in a procession, entering an area that was screened by a curtain.There was the creaking of chairs as everyone sat down.Immediately, a kindly blond man in a dark suit stood up and asked us to bow our heads.He said a prayer for us, the living, and after that he said a prayer for the souls of the dead. I followed the crowd and walked slowly past the coffin.Then I came out on the front steps and stepped out into the afternoon light.A middle-aged woman with a limp walking down the steps walked ahead of me.She looked around on the sidewalk. "Oh, they got him," she said. "If that's any consolation. They arrested him this morning. Just heard it on the radio before I came. It's a boy from this town." We walked a few steps along the hot sidewalk.People are starting their cars.I reach for a parking meter.Shiny hood and glossy fenders.I'm dizzy. I said, "It's possible he didn't do it alone, these murderers. It's hard for you to find out." "I've known her since she was a little girl," said the woman. "She used to come to my place and I would bake her cookies and let her eat them in front of the TV." Back home, Stuart sat at the table with a glass of whiskey in front of him.Suddenly I felt something was wrong with Dean. "Where's he?" I said, "Where's Dean?" "Outside," my husband said. He drank his glass and stood up.He said, "I think I know what you need." He put his arm around my waist, and with the other hand he began to unbutton my blouse, then my shirt. "Do the most important things first," he said. He said something else.But I don't need to listen anymore.There's so much water running that I can't hear a thing. "Yes," I said, and unbuttoned it myself. "Before Dean comes back. Come on."