Chapter 6 six

When Louis came back, he felt that his measures were really small.No one asked him to examine Norma Crandall, who was asleep when he crossed the road to her house.Chad was sitting in the rocker, smoking a cigarette, the fire flickering like a big summer firefly.The low hum of the Red Sox game came over the radio.It all made Louis feel at home.He knocked on the porch door. "Come in, it's Dr. Creed," Crandall said. "I hope what you said about the beer is true," replied Louis, walking in. "Oh, I never lie about beer. Lying about beer makes enemies. Sit down, doctor. I'll add more ice."

Several wicker chairs and sofas made of rattan were placed in the long and narrow porch.Louis sat down and was surprised how comfortable it was.To his left was a tin bucket containing ice and several cans of Black Laibel.He took a can, opened it and said, "Thank you." He took two sips and felt refreshed. "Drink more," said Crandall. "I hope you enjoy your time here, doctor." "I hope so." "By the way, if you want some biscuits or something, I can get you some. I've got a big hunk of Wright cheese ready." "A big piece of what?"

"Wright cheese." Crandall's words sounded a little secretly funny. "Thanks, but beer will do." "Okay, then we'll just drink beer," Crandall said, belching contentedly. "Is your wife gone to bed?" Louis asked, wondering why the old man kept the door open. "Yes. She sometimes stays up late and sometimes goes to bed early." "Her arthritis makes her miserable, doesn't it?" "Have you ever seen a case of arthritis that wasn't painful?" Louis shook his head. "I think her arthritis is bearable," Crandall said. "She doesn't complain much. My Norma is a good woman." There was deep, open love in the old man's voice. A tank truck rumbled by on Route 15, so big and so long that Louis couldn't see his house across the road.In the night, you can see Orinco written on the side of the big truck.

"Such a big truck," Louis said. "Olinco is a fertilizer plant, near Orrington. These cars come and go every day, it doesn't matter. And the tank trucks, the garbage trucks, the ones that go to work in Bangor or Brewer during the day and drive back at night That's one of the things I don't like about Ludlowtown. That broken road, never a moment's peace. The trucks keep going day and night, sometimes waking up Norma, God, sometimes waking me up, And I sleep like a dead pig." Louis, who had lived through the hustle and bustle of Chicago for a moment, felt that this land in Maine was surprisingly peaceful, so he just nodded.

“Sooner or later the Arabs will pick up a fight and start an African riot on that road,” Crandall said. "You might be right." Louis held up the beer can, surprised to find it empty. The old man laughed and said, "Listen again, doctor." Louis hesitated and said, "Okay, I can only listen to it again, I have to go back." "Of course. You never moved?" "Yes." Louis replied.A silence followed.The silence made people feel comfortable, as if the two had known each other for a long time.It was a feeling Louis had read about in books but hadn't experienced until now.He was ashamed of the idea that the old man would ask him for free medical treatment.

Another car roared by on the highway, its lights twinkling like stars. "It's a wicked highway," said Crandall softly, thoughtfully.He looked back at Louis with a strange smile on his lips, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Do you remember that path your daughter talked about?" Louis didn't remember it at first. Allie said a lot of things in one day.But then he did remember.The weeds were trimmed, through the woods, and the path meandered to the side of the mountain. "Oh, yes. You promised to tell her about the road later." "Yes, I'll tell her about it," said the old man. "The trail goes about a mile and a half in the woods. The local kids around here clean it, because they come and go on it all the time... …When I was young people didn't move around like they do now. People pick a place and they stick to it. But the kids mowed the path every spring and cleaned the road all summer. Not all the grown-ups in town Know it, and the kids know it all, and they tell each other. I bet all the kids know it."

"what do you know?" "Pet cemetery." "Pet cemetery?" Louis repeated, bewildered. "It's not as weird as it sounds," said Crandall, smoking a cigarette as he rocked his rocking chair. "It's because of that road. A lot of animals were killed on that road. Mostly dogs and cats, but not all dogs." And cats. An Orinco factory truck also ran over and killed a pet wash bear owned by the Ryder children. That was a long time ago—God, it must have been in 1973, maybe earlier. Anyway, before Maine enacted a law banning the breeding of anthane bears and skunks that have lost their natural nature."

"Why should the keeping of these animals be banned?" "Because of rabies," said Crandall, "there's always rabies in Maine now. There was an old St. Bernard dog that went crazy a few years ago and killed four people. Terrible. The dog didn't Get vaccinated. If those stupid people vaccinated dogs, that wouldn't happen. But people can vaccinate alkanes and skunks too, twice a year, and they usually don't Rabies. But the Ryder kids have the alkane bear that is vaccinated. He's chubby and people call him the cute bear. Because he always waddles right up to you, Licking your face like a dog. The father of the kids even paid a veterinarian to spay and clip the bear's paws, which cost him a fortune! Ryder works for IBM in Bangor. They Moved to Colorado 5 years ago...maybe 6 years ago. His two older kids are almost driving. It's funny just thinking about them. I think Wash Bear's death must have made them sad Maddy Ryder cried for a long time and scared his mother to take him to the doctor. I think he must be all right now, but they will never forget this. A precious pet in the He was crushed to death by a car on the road, and the child will never forget it for the rest of his life."

Louis remembered seeing Ellie sleeping soundly and the kitten Church snoring beside the mattress, so he said, "My daughter has a kitten, we call it Church." "Does it fight with other cats?" "what?" "Hasn't it been castrated?" "not yet." They actually thought about it when they were still in Chicago.Rachel wants to spay the kitten and has made an appointment with the veterinarian.Louis got canceled, and he didn't know why.Not because he was afraid that the kitten would cause trouble to the fat woman next door, nor because he and the kitten were male.Mainly because he didn't want to destroy something he admired in the kitten, the fearless look that shone brightly in the cat's green eyes.So he explained to Rachel that they'd be fine if they moved to the country.And now Chad Crandall told him about life in the country on Route 15, and asked him if the kitten was neutered.It's kind of like a mockery of fate.

"If it were me, it would be neutered," Crandall said, snuffing out the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger. "A neutered kitten doesn't run around anymore. If it keeps running back and forth, it's bad luck. Like Ryder's alkanes, Demmie Deisler Jr.'s long-haired dog, Bradley Mademoiselle's parakeet. Of course, you know the parrot wasn't crushed, it flew away one day." "Thank you for your suggestion," Louis said. "Should do that," said Crandall, standing up. "How about the beer? I want to go in and get some cheese."

Louis also stood up and said, "I'm done with beer, I should go too, see you tomorrow." "You go to school and start work tomorrow?" Louis nodded and replied, "Students don't start school for two weeks, but I should have known what I was going to do sooner, don't you think?" "Yes, I think you'll be in trouble if you don't even know where the pills are," Crandall said. "You're always welcome to come and meet my Norma. I think she'll like you." "I'll come." Louis shook hands with Crandall and said goodbye, thinking that old people are more prone to illness. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Chad." "I'm glad, too, that you'll be settling down soon, probably for a long time." "I hope so." Louis walked along the random paved path to the side of the road and had to stop because another truck, followed by five cars, was heading in the direction of Baxport.Louis raised his hand, crossed the road, and walked into his new home. Everyone was asleep, and there was silence.Ellie didn't seem to be moving, and Gage was still in his crib, sprawled on his back, with a feeding bottle not far from the bed.Louis paused to look at his son with a deep love in his heart.Mainly, he thought, it was leaving the familiar Chicago and the familiar faces there.Now people move around like this. In the past, people chose a place and settled down.This sentence is really true. He approached his son, but no one saw him, not even Rachel.He kissed his son's fingers and patted Gage's cheek lightly through the crib rail.Gage laughed and turned away. "Go to sleep, baby," Louis said. Then he went back to his room and lay quietly on the bed, which was nothing more than two single mattresses pushed together.Rachel didn't move, and Louis felt the tension of the day begin to lift.Before going to bed, he put his arms up and looked out the window, and saw Crandall's cigarette still shining across the road.Louis thought, the old man was not asleep yet, he might have to stay up late, the old man didn't sleep well.As he thought about it, he fell asleep.He dreamed that he was at Disney World, driving a white van with a red cross on it, and Gage was sitting beside him. His son was at least 10 years old.Church was on the fender of the wagon, staring at him with green eyes.On the street outside the train station in the 1890s, surrounded by children, Mickey Mouse is holding the trusting little hand of the children with the big white cartoon glove.