modus vivendi
with life.
Not a completely happy one, but at least a workable one.
"No," I said. "You're not wrong."
"I don't believe my brother's car will make him happy. If anything, just the
opposite." And as if he had just read my thoughts of a few minutes before, he
went on: "I don't believe in curses, you know. Nor in ghosts or anything
precisely supernatural. But I do believe that emotions and events have a
certain… lingering resonance. It may be that emotions can even communicate
themselves in certain circumstances, if the circumstances are peculiar
enough… the way a carton of milk will take the flavor of certain strongly
spiced foods if it's left open in the refrigerator. Or perhaps that's only a
ridiculous fancy on my part, Possibly it's just that I would feel better knowing
the car my niece choked in and my sister-in-law killed herself in had been
pressed down into a cube of meaningless metal. Perhaps all I feel is a sense
of outraged propriety."
"Mr LeBay, you said you'd hired someone to take care of your brother's
house until it was sold. Was that true?"
He shifted a little in his chair. "No, it wasn't. I lied on impulse. I didn't like
the thought of that car back in that garage… as if it had found its way home. If
there are emotions and feelings that still live on, they would be there, as well
as in the car herself." And very quickly he corrected himself: "
It
self."
Not long after, I said my goodbyes and followed my headlights home through
the dark, thinking over everything LeBay had told me. I wondered if it would
make any difference to Arnie if I told him one person had had a mortal
accident in his car and another had actually died in it. I pretty well knew that
it wouldn't; in his own way, Arnie could be every bit as stubborn as Roland
LeBay himself. The lovely little scene over the car with his parents had
shown that quite conclusively. The fact that he went on taking auto-shop
courses down there in the Libertyville High version of the DMZ showed the
same thing.
I thought of LeBay saying,
I didn't like the thought of that car back in that
garage… as if it had found its way home.
He had also said that his brother took the car someplace to work on it. And
the only do-it-yourself garage in Libertyville now was Will Darnell's. Of
course, there might have been another back in the '50s, but I didn't believe it.
In my heart what I believed was that Arnie had been working on Christine in
a place where she had been worked on before.
Had
been. That was the operant phrase. Because of the fight with Buddy
Repperton, Arnie was afraid to leave it there any longer, So maybe that
avenue to Christine's past was blocked off as well.
And, of course, there were no curses. Even LeBay's idea about lingering
emotions was pretty farfetched. I doubted if he really believed it himself. He
had shown me an old scar, and he had used the word vengeance. And that
was probably a lot closer to the truth than any phony supernatural bullshit. Of
course.
No; I was seventeen years old, bound for college in another year, and I didn't
believe in such things as curses and emotions that linger and grow rancid, the
spilled milk of dreams. I would not have granted you the power of the past to
reach out horrid dead hands toward the living.
But I'm a little older now.
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