js&cs.thebridge-第18章

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　　Pregnant　women　go　of　on　the　weirdest　things；　he　thought　miserably。　Fucking　hormones；　it　seemed　like　every　time　he　turned　around　he　was　stepping　on　another　emotional　punji　stick。　In　the　shithouse　for　insulting　her　stupid　special…occasion　fifteen…dollar…a…pound　yuppie　coffee；　for　christ　sakes。　God　I'll　be　glad　when　this　is　over。
　　In　the　meantime；　there　was　not　much　to　do　but　practice　his　eggshell　softshoe　and　hope　nothing　else　went　wrong。
　　The　phone　rang。
　　〃Oh；　no；〃　he　gasped；　eyeing　the　Cobra　cordless　on　the　workbench。　There　was　only　one　reason　why　the　phone　would　ring　this　early　on　a　Sunday；　and　it　wasn't　to　wish　him　a　nice　day　off。　He　rinsed　his　hands；　wiped　them　off　on　his　pants；　and　finger…bed　his　hair；　giving　the　caller　time　to　give　up。
　　It　was　no　use。　He　picked　up　on　the　fourth　ring。
　　〃What　is　it；　Bob　。。。〃　he　sighed。
　　〃How'd　you　know　it　was　me？〃　Bob　Dobberman　asked；　genuinely　incredulous。
　　〃Experience；〃　Gary　said。　〃Cut　to　the　chase；　Bob。〃
　　Bob　〃The　Knob〃　Dobberman　was　Gary's　boss；　a　rotund　and　genial　technogeek；　right　down　to　his　pocket　protector　and　basementful　of　ham　radios。　He　was　'PAL's　head　engineer；　and　he　did　live　for　his　job：　Sigma　Delta　Theta；　Society　of　Broadcast　Engineers；　the　works。　〃We　got　a　little　emergency　down　at　the　station；〃　he　said。　〃Something　screwy　with　the　news　department's　edit　deck。　Can　you　do　it？〃
　　〃Bob；〃　Gary　groaned；　drawing　his　name　out　into　two　exasperated　syllables：　Bah…ahb。　〃Jeezus。　I　just　worked　two　shifts；　back　to　back；　and　I've　got　to　pick　up　Gwen's　friend　at　the　airport　in　less　than　an　hour。
　　〃What　about　Brian？〃　Gary　offered。　〃He　ought　to　be　able　to　fix　a　fucking　jammed　deck。〃
　　〃Yeah；　sure；〃　Bob　scoffed。　〃Brian　couldn't　find　his　own　ass　with　both　hands　and　a　map。〃
　　〃How　'bout　you？〃
　　〃I　would　if　I　could；〃　Bob　said。　〃But　Penny's　sick；　and　who's　gonna　take　care　of　the　kids？　They　can't　finish　editing　without　it。　They　won't　be　able　to　do　the　news　。。。　〃　He　laid　it　on　with　a　trowel；　delivering　the　last　bit　with　an　air　of　genuine　dread。
　　Gary　smiled　despite　himself；　God　knows；　where　would　we　be　without　the　eleven　o'clock　news。
　　〃Alright；〃　he　conceded。　〃But　that's　it！　Fix　the　deck　and　I'm　gone。　No　bullshit。〃
　　〃You　got　it！〃　Bob　said；　relieved。　〃Thanks；　Gar；　you're　a　pal。〃
　　〃Yeah；　yeah；〃　Gary　groused。　〃You　owe　me；　motherfucker。〃
　　He　clicked　off　and　walked　into　the　kitchen　to　break　the　news。　Gwen　was　quietly　banging　things　around；　taking　the　dishes　out　of　the　drying　rack；　clicking　cups　and　plates　with　a　deliberate　intensity。
　　〃Uh；　babe　。。。　〃
　　〃I　heard；〃　she　said。　〃Mr。　Dedicated。〃　She　swished　soapy　water　in　the　now…emptied　coffee　carafe；　rinsed　and　racked　it。　She　said　everything　in　those　two　words　that　he　needed　to　know。　Eggshell　City。
　　〃It's　just　a　jammed　deck；〃　he　offered　apologetically。　〃I'll　be　back　in　plenty　of　time　to　make　it　to　the　airport。〃
　　〃It's　okay；〃　she　said；　meaning　it　isn't。　〃I'll　get　her　myself。〃
　　〃I　don't　want　you　driving；〃　he　blurted；　instantly　regretting　it。
　　She　grabbed　a　glass；　went　swish　swish　swish。　Meaning　I　don't　care　what　you　want。
　　Gary　took　a　step　toward　her；　Gwen　racked　the　glass　almost　hard　enough　to　chip　it。　The　translation　was　the　aloha　of　unspoken　marriage…speak；　and　its　meaning　was　crystal…clear。
　　Touch　me；　you　die。
　　Gary　backed　off。　There　was　nothing　else　for　him　to　do；　or　say。　This　was　one　storm　front　that　had　to　blow　off　of　its　own　hormonal　accord。
　　〃I'll　be　back　in　a　flash；　darlin'；〃　he　said。　〃Promise。〃
　　Gary　grabbed　his　leather　jacket　off　the　peg　by　the　garage　door　entrance　and　closed　the　door　quietly　behind　him。　Gwen　was　still　washing　and　rinsing；　but　her　shoulders　were　shaking　ever　so　slightly。　She　cried　silently；　covered　it　with　dishwashing　clatter。
　　Gary　refilled　the　oil　and　readied　the　bike；　heart　aching。　Poor　baby；　he　thought。　Sure　gonna　be　a　better　world　when　Spike　finally　pops。　The　homestretch　was　the　hardest；　for　both　of　them。
　　He　donned　his　leather　and　riding　gloves。　His　helmet　sat　on　the　passenger　hump　of　the　seat。　It　was　a　ninja…black　road…warrior　style　fiberglass　monstrosity；　a　precautionary　pie…Father's　Day　gift　from　Gwen。　It　encased　his　whole　head　and　face；　with　just　a　little　snap…on　plate　for　his　eyes；　the　kind　of　helmet　only　rice…burner　riders　thought　was　cool。　He　hated　it；　but　loved　her　for　giving　it　to　him。
　　Gary　straddled　the　softtail；　keyed　it　on；　and　kicked　it　over；　the　engine　roared　to　life。　It　thrummed　between　his　legs；　Gary　felt　instantly　better；　his　head　clear。
　　Fuck　it；　he　shrugged。　Into　each　life；　and　all　that　shit。　If　the　gods　of　expectant　fatherhood　were　with　him；　the　sun　would　be　shining　when　he　got　back。
　　Gary　gunned　the　engine；　eased　out　of　the　garage；　and　rode。
　　Right　into　the　thick　of　it。
　　
　　
　　　Twelve
　　　
　　The　muter　flight　from　Philly　to　Paradise　sucked；　and　by　ten　thirty…five；　despite　her　best　efforts　to　remain　in　good　cheer；　Micki　Bridges　had　pretty　much　exhausted　her　options。　She　was　too　tired　to　read；　too　wired　to　sleep；　and　way　too　close　to　blowing　chunks　for　her　to　sit　back　and　enjoy　the　ride。
　　The　turbulence；　of　course；　was　at　the　root　of　her　distress。　Every　sledgehammer　thud　against　the　little　plane's　fuselage　helped　inch　her　stomach　a　little　higher　up　into　her　lungs。　She　groaned　as　the　plane　lurched　abruptly　toward　sea　level；　caught　itself　hard。
　　Soft　laughter　emanated　from　the　curtained…off　cockpit：　the　pilot　and　copilot；　yocking　it　up。　She　could　barely　hear　it　over　the　drone　of　the　engines；　but　it　dragged　a　nervous；　involuntary　smile　to　her　lips。　〃Glad　somebody's　enjoying　this；〃　she　muttered　to　herself。
　　〃Sorry　about　that　folks。〃　The　tiny　inter　buzzed　to　life　with　the　pilot's　voice。　〃We're　just　passing　through　some　rough　air　here；　there's　a　little　storm　front　moving　by　overhead。　Not　to　worry；　though；　estimated　E。T。A。　in　Paradise　is　approximately　twenty…seven　minutes。　So　hang　in　there；　and　thank　you　for　flying　US　Air。〃
　　Another　thud　rocked　the　plane。
　　〃Oh；　great；〃　Micki　moaned；　trying　to　keep　her　digestive　system　moored。　Her　long　ebony　hair；　laced　with　premature　gray；　spilled　over　her　face；　she　brushed　it　back　and　groaned　some　more。
　　Micki　Bridges　was　a　handsome　woman；　agelessly　attractive；　youthful　and　mature　by　turns；　one　could　guess　ten　years　to　either　side　of　her　thirty…three　years　and　not　seem　too　far　off　the　mark。　But　now　her　riveting；　deep…set　eyes　were　etched　with　the　shadow　of　fatigue；　and　nausea　had　leeched　off　some　of　the　healthier　tones　from　her　naturally　olive　skin；　leaving　her　a　tad　on　the　greenish　side。
　　She　was　ing　down　from　Amherst；　straight　off　the　New　World　Symposium　on　EcoHarmony；　with　no　breakfast　and　very　little　sleep　under　her　belt。　All　in　all；　she　was　glad　she'd　gone。　It　was　a　chance　to　throw　support　behind　a　worthy　cause；　get　together　with　handfuls　of　people　she　admired；　meet　her　public；　promote　her　books；　and　network　like　crazy。　All　expenses　paid。
　　For　four　days；　she　had　done　just　that。　The　organizers　had　outdone　themselves；　securing　everyone　from　John　Denver　to　Jean　Houston；　Carl　Sagan　to　Stewart　Brand；　with　a　sobering　keynote　speech　by　Bill　〃The　End　of　Nature〃　McKibben。
　　The　speakers　were　passionate。　The　cause　was　just。
　　And；　in　the　end；　very　little　had　really　changed。
　　Because　half　the　people　in　attendance　had　e　to　see　the　world　saved　for　them；　by　famous　stars　and　noted　authors。　A　large　percentage　had　e　to　hawk　their　ecologically　correct　wares：　the　water　purifiers　and　solar　conversion　kits　and　biodegradable；　nonphosphate；　lemon…fresh　detergents　for　the　modern　New　Age　lifestyle。　A　far　smaller　percentage　had　e　in　the　hope　of　finding　support　for　their　own　little　homegrown　save…the…world　strata　gems：　each　one　grandiose；　sweeping；　and　impossibly　naive；　and　all　structured　so　as　to　place　themselves　squarely　at　the　imaginary　helm　of　Spaceship　Earth。
　　But　the　real　problem；　Micki　mused；　was　the　perennial　problem　with　the　New　Age：　in　its　boundless　optimism；　its　proponents　had　a　tendency　to　offer　far　too　much；　make　extravagant　claims　and　promises　they　could　never　in　a　million　years　live　up　to；　thereby　turning　love　of　the　Mother　Earth　into　so　much　New　Age　snake　oil。
　　The　hype　surrounding　this　show；　for