第57章
《THE CATCHER IN THE RYE(麦田里的守望者英文版)》章节:第57章,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
Nobody.
When the weather's nice, my parents go out quite frequently and stick a bunch of
flowers on old Allie's grave. I went with them a couple of times, but I cut it out. In the
first place, I certainly don't enjoy seeing him in that crazy cemetery. Surrounded by dead
guys and tombstones and all. It wasn't too bad when the sun was out, but twice--twice--
we were there when it started to rain. It was awful. It rained on his lousy tombstone, and
it rained on the grass on his stomach. It rained all over the place. All the visitors that were
visiting the cemetery started running like hell over to their cars. That's what nearly drove
me crazy. All the visitors could get in their cars and turn on their radios and all and then
go someplace nice for dinner--everybody except Allie. I couldn't stand it. I know it's only
his body and all that's in the cemetery, and his soul's in Heaven and all that crap, but I
couldn't stand it anyway. I just wish he wasn't there. You didn't know him. If you'd
known him, you'd know what I mean. It's not too bad when the sun's out, but the sun only
comes out when it feels like coming out.
After a while, just to get my mind off getting pneumonia and all, I took out my
dough and tried to count it in the lousy light from the street lamp. All I had was three
singles and five quarters and a nickel left--boy, I spent a fortune since I left Pencey. Then
what I did, I went down near the lagoon and I sort of skipped the quarters and the nickel
across it, where it wasn't frozen. I don't know why I did it, but I did it. I guess I thought
it'd take my mind off getting pneumonia and dying. It didn't, though.
I started thinking how old Phoebe would feel if I got pneumonia and died. It was a
childish way to think, but I couldn't stop myself. She'd feel pretty bad if something like
that happened. She likes me a lot. I mean she's quite fond of me. She really is. Anyway, I
couldn't get that off my mind, so finally what I figured I'd do, I figured I'd better sneak
home and see her, in case I died and all. I had my door key with me and all, and I figured
what I'd do, I'd sneak in the apartment, very quiet and all, and just sort of chew the fat
with her for a while. The only thing that worried me was our front door. It creaks like a
bastard. It's a pretty old apartment house, and the superintendent's a lazy bastard, and
everything creaks and squeaks. I was afraid my parents might hear me sneaking in. But I
decided I'd try it anyhow.
So I got the hell out of the park, and went home. I walked all the way. It wasn't
too far, and I wasn't tired or even drunk any more. It was just very cold and nobody
around anywhere.
21
The best break I had in years, when I got home the regular night elevator boy,
Pete, wasn't on the car. Some new guy I'd never seen was on the car, so I figured that if I
didn't bump smack into my parents and all I'd be able to say hello to old Phoebe and then
beat it and nobody'd even know I'd been around. It was really a terrific break. What made
it even better, the new elevator boy was sort of on the stupid side. I told him, in this very
casual voice, to take me up to the Dicksteins'. The Dicksteins were these people that had
the other apartment on our floor. I'd already taken off my hunting hat, so as not to look
suspicious or anything. I went in the elevator like I was in a terrific hurry.
He had the elevator doors all shut and all, and was all set to take me up, and then
he turned around and said, "They ain't in. They're at a party on the fourteenth floor."
"That's all right," I said. "I'm supposed to wait for them. I'm their nephew."
He gave me this sort of stupid, suspicious look. "You better wait in the lobby,
fella," he said.
"I'd like to--I really would," I said. "But I have a bad leg. I have to hold it in a
certain position. I think I'd better sit down in the chair outside their door."
He didn't know what the hell I was talking about, so all he said was "Oh" and took
me up. Not bad, boy. It's funny. All you have to do is say something nobody understands
and they'll do practically anything you want them to.
I got off at our floor--limping like a bastard--and started walking over toward the
Dicksteins' side. Then, when I heard the elevator doors shut, I turned around and went
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over to our side. I was doing all right. I didn't even feel drunk anymore. Then I took out
my door key and opened our door, quiet as hell. Then, very, very carefully and all, I went
inside and closed the door. I really should've been a crook.
It was dark as hell in the foyer, naturally, and naturally I couldn't turn on any
lights. I had to be careful not to bump into anything and make a racket. I certainly knew I
was home, though. Our foyer has a funny smell that doesn't smell like anyplace else. I
don't know what the hell it is. It isn't cauliflower and it isn't perfume--I don't know what
the hell it is--but you always know you're home. I started to take off my coat and hang it
up in the foyer closet, but that closet's full of hangers that rattle like madmen when you
open the door, so I left it on. Then I started walking very, very slowly back toward old
Phoebe's room. I knew the maid wouldn't hear me because she had only one eardrum. She
had this brother that stuck a straw down her ear when she was a kid, she once told me.
She was pretty deaf and all. But my parents, especially my mother, she has ears like a
goddam bloodhound. So I took it very, very easy when I went past their door. I even held
my breath, for God's sake. You can hit my father over the head with a chair and he won't
wake up, but my mother, all you have to do to my mother is cough somewhere in Siberia
and she'll hear you. She's nervous as hell. Half the time she's up all night smoking
cigarettes.
Finally, after about an hour, I got to old Phoebe's room. She wasn't there, though.
I forgot about that. I forgot she always sleeps in D.B.'s room when he's away in
Hollywood or some place. She likes it because it's the biggest room in the house. Also
because it has this big old madman desk in it that D.B. bought off some lady alcoholic in
Philadelphia, and this big, gigantic bed that's about ten miles wide and ten miles long. I
don't know where he bought that bed. Anyway, old Phoebe likes to sleep in D.B.'s room
when he's away, and he lets her. You ought to see her doing her homework or something
at that crazy desk. It's almost as big as the bed. You can hardly see her when she's doing
her homework. That's the kind of stuff she likes, though. She doesn't like her own room
because it's too little, she says. She says she likes to spread out. That kills me. What's old
Phoebe got to spread out?