绿里奇迹(英文版)-第25章

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ure　says　so。　The　folks　who　have　to　live　here　（the　brochure　doesn't　call　us　〃inmates；〃　but　sometimes　I　do）　just　call　it　the　TV　room。　
Folks　think　I'm　stand…offy　because　I　don't　go　down　to　the　TV　room　much　in　the　day；　but　it's　the　programs　I　can't　stand；　not　the　folks。　Oprah；　Ricki　Lake；　Carnie　Wilson；　Rolanda　…　the　world　is　falling　down　around　our　ears；　and　all　these　people　care　for　is　talking　about　fucking　to　women　in　short　skirts　and　men　with　their　shirts　hanging　open。　Well；　hell　…　judge　not；　lest　ye　be　judged；　the　Bible　says；　so　I'll　get　down　off　my　soapbox。　It's　just　that　if　I　wanted　to　spend　time　with　trailer　trash；　I'd　move　two　miles　down　to　the　Happy　Wheels　Motor　Court；　where　the　police　cars　always　seem　to　be　headed　on　Friday　and　Saturday　nights　with　their　sirens　screaming　and　their　blue　lights　flashing。　My　special　friend；　Elaine　Connelly；　feels　the　same　way。　Elaine　is　eighty；　tall　and　slim；　still　erect　and　clear…eyed；　very　intelligent　and　refined。　She　walks　very　slowly　because　there's　something　wrong　with　her　hips；　and　I　know　that　the　arthritis　in　her　hands　gives　her　terrible　misery；　but　she　has　a　beautiful　long　neck　…　a　swan　neck；　almost　…　and　long；　pretty　hair　that　falls　to　her　shoulders　when　she　lets　it　down。　
Best　of　all；　she　doesn't　think　I'm　peculiar；　or　stand…offy。　We　spend　a　lot　of　time　together；　Elaine　and　I。　If　I　hadn't　reached　such　a　grotesque　age；　I　suppose　I　might　speak　of　her　as　my　ladyfriend。　Still；　having　a　special　friend　…　just　that　…　is　not　so　bad；　and　in　some　ways；　it's　even　better。　A　lot　of　the　problems　and　heartaches　that　go　with　being　boyfriend　and　girlfriend　have　simply　burned　out　of　us。　And　although　I　know　that　no　one　under　the　age　of；　say；　fifty　would　believe　this；　sometimes　the　embers　are　better　than　the　campfire。　It's　strange；　but　it's　true。　
So　I　don't　watch　TV　during　the　day。　Sometimes　I　walk；　sometimes　I　read；　mostly　what　I've　been　doing　for　the　last　month　or　so　is　writing　this　memoir　among　the　plants　in　the　solarium。　I　think　there's　more　oxygen　in　that　room；　and　it　helps　the　old　memory。　It　beats　the　hell　out　of　Geraldo　Rivera；　I　can　tell　you　that。　
But　when　I　can't　sleep；　I　sometimes　creep　downstairs　and　put　on　the　television。　There's　no　Home　Box　Office　or　anything　at　Georgia　Pines　…　I　guess　that's　a　resource　just　a　wee　bit　too　expensive　for　our　Resource　Center　…　but　we　have　the　basic　cable　services；　and　that　means　we　have　the　American　Movie　Channel。　That's　the　one　（just　in　case　you　don't　have　the　basic　cable　services　yourself）　where　most　of　the　films　are　in　black　and　white　and　none　of　the　women　take　their　clothes　off。　For　an　old　fart　like　me；　that's　sort　of　soothing。　There　have　been　a　good　many　nights　when　I've　slipped　right　off　to　sleep　on　the　ugly　green　sofa　in　front　of　the　TV　while　Francis　the　Talking　Mule　once　more　pulls　Donald　O'Connor's　skillet　out　of　the　fire；　or　John　Wayne　cleans　up　Dodge；　or　Jimmy　Cagney　calls　someone　a　dirty　rat　and　then　pulls　a　gun。　Some　of　them　are　movies　I　saw　with　my　wife；　Janice　（not　just　my　ladyfriend　but　my　best　friend）；　and　they　calm　me。　The　clothes　they　wear；　the　way　they　walk　and　talk；　even　the　music　on　the　soundtrack　…　all　those　things　calm　me。　They　remind　me；　I　suppose；　of　when　I　was　a　man　still　walking　on　the　skin　of　the　world；　instead　of　a　moth…eaten　relic　mouldering　away　in　an　old　folks'　home　where　many　of　the　residents　wear　diapers　and　rubber　pants。　
There　was　nothing　soothing　about　what　I　saw　this　morning；　though。　Nothing　at　all。　
Elaine　sometimes　joins　me　for　AMC's　so…called　Early　Bird　Matinee；　which　starts　at　4：00　a。m。　…　she　doesn't　say　much　about　it；　but　I　know　her　arthritis　hurts　her　something　terrible；　and　that　the　drugs　they　give　her　don't　help　much　anymore。　
When　she　came　in　this　morning；　gliding　like　a　ghost　in　her　white　terrycloth　robe；　she　found　me　sitting　on　the　lumpy　sofa；　bent　over　the　scrawny　sticks　that　used　to　be　legs；　and　clutching　my　knees　to　try　and　still　the　shakes　that　were　running　through　me　like　a　high　wind。　I　felt　cold　all　over；　except　for　my　groin；　which　seemed　to　burn　with　the　ghost　of　the　urinary　infection　which　had　so　troubled　my　life　in　the　fall　of　1932　…　the　fall　of　John　Coffey；　Percy　Wetmore；　and　Mr。　Jingles；　the　trained　mouse。　
The　fall　of　William　Wharton；　it　had　been；　too。　
〃Paul！〃　Elaine　cried；　and　hurried　over　to　me　hurried　as　fast　as　the　rusty　nails　and　ground　glass　in　her　hips　would　allow；　anyway。　〃Paul；　what's　wrong？〃　
〃I'll　be　all　right；〃　I　said；　but　the　words　didn't　sound　very　convincing　…　they　came　out　all　uneven；　through　teeth　that　wanted　to　chatter。　〃Just　give　me　a　minute　or　two；　I'll　be　right　as　rain。〃　
She　sat　next　to　me　and　put　her　arm　around　my　shoulders。　〃I'm　sure；〃　she　said。　〃But　what　happened？　For　heaven's　sake；　Paul；　you　look　like　you　saw　a　ghost。〃　
I　did；　I　thought；　and　didn't　realize　until　her　eyes　widened　that　I'd　said　it　out　loud。　
〃Not　really。〃　I　said；　and　patted　her　hand　（gently　…　so　gently！）。　〃But　for　a　minute。　Elaine　God！〃　
〃Was　it　from　the　time　when　you　were　a　guard　at　the　prison？〃　she　asked。　〃The　time　that　you've　been　writing　about　in　the　solarium？〃　
I　nodded。　〃I　worked　on　our　version　of　Death　Row　…　〃　
〃I　know　…　〃　
〃Only　we　called　it　the　Green　Mile。　Because　of　the　linoleum　on　the　floor。　In　the　fall　of　'32；　we　got　this　fellow　…　we　got　this　wildman　…　named　William　Wharton。　Liked　to　think　of　himself　as　Billy　the　Kid；　even　had　it　tattooed　on　his　arm。　Just　a　kid；　but　dangerous。　I　can　still　remember　what　Curtis　Anderson　…　he　was　the　assistant　warden　back　in　those　days　…　wrote　about　him。　'Crazy…wild　and　proud　of　it。　Wharton　is　nieen　years　old；　and　he　just　doesn't　care。'　He'd　underlined　that　part。〃　
The　hand　which　had　gone　around　my　shoulders　was　now　rubbing　my　back。　I　was　beginning　to　calm。　In　that　moment　I　loved　Elaine　Connelly；　and　could　have　kissed　her　all　over　her　face　as　I　told　her　so。　Maybe　I　should　have。　It's　terrible　to　be　alone　and　frightened　at　any　age；　but　I　think　it's　worst　when　you're　old。　But　I　had　this　other　thing　on　my　mind；　this　load　of　old　and　still　unfinished　business。　
〃Anyway；〃　I　said；　〃you're　right…I've　been　scribbling　about　how　Wharton　came　on　the　block　and　almost　killed　Dean　Stanton　…　One　of　the　guys　I　worked　with　back　then　…　when　he　did。〃　
〃How　could　he　do　that？〃　Elaine　asked。　
〃Meanness　and　carelessness；〃　I　said　grimly。　〃Wharton　supplied　the　meanness；　and　the　guards　who　brought　him　in　supplied　the　carelessness。　The　real　mistake　was　Wharton's　wrist…chain　…　it　was　a　little　too　long。　When　Dean　unlocked　the　door　to　E　Block；　Wharton　was　behind　him。　There　were　guards　on　either　side　of　him；　but　Anderson　was　right　…　Wild　Billy　just　didn't　care　about　such　things。　He　dropped　that　wrist…chain　down　over　Dean's　head　and　started　choking　him　with　it。〃　
Elaine　shuddered。　
〃Anyway；　I　got　thinking　about　all　that　and　couldn't　sleep；　so　I　came　down　here。　I　turned　on　AMC；　thinking　you　might　e　down　and　we'd　have　us　a　little　date…〃　
She　laughed　and　kissed　my　forehead　just　above　the　eyebrow。　It　used　to　make　me　prickle　all　over　when　Janice　did　that；　and　it　still　made　me　prickle　all　over　when　Elaine　did　it　early　this　morning。　I　guess　some　things　don't　ever　change。　
〃…and　what　came　on　was　this　old　black…and…white　gangster　movie　from　the　forties。　Kiss　of　Death；　it's　called。〃　
I　could　feel　myself　wanting　to　start　shaking　again　and　tried　to　suppress　it。　
〃Richard　Widmark's　in　it；〃　I　said。　〃It　was　his　first　big　part；　I　think。　I　never　went　to　see　it　with　Jan　…　we　gave　the　cops　and　robbers　a　miss；　usually　…　but　I　remember　reading　somewhere　that　Widmark　gave　one　hell　of　a　performance　as　the　punk。　He　sure　did。　He's　pale　。。。　doesn't　seem　to　walk　so　much　as　go　gliding　around　。。。　he's　always　calling　people　'squirt'　。　。　。　talking　about　squealers　how　much　he　hates　the　squealers　。　。　！〃　
I　was　starting　to　shiver　again　in　spite　of　my　best　efforts。　I　just　couldn't　help　it。　
〃Blond　hair；〃　I　whispered。　〃Lank　blond　hair。　I　watched　until　the　part　where　he　pushed　this　old　woman　in　a　wheelchair　down　a　flight　of　stairs；　then　I　turned　it　off。〃　
〃He　reminded　you　of　Wharton？〃　
〃He　was　Wharton；〃　I　said。　〃To　the　life！〃　
〃Paul！'　she　began；　and　stopped。　She　looked　at　the　blank　screen　of　the　TV　（the　cable　box　on　top　of　it　was　still　on；　the　red　numerals　still　showing　10；　the　number　of　the　AMC　channel）；　then　back　at　me。　
〃What？〃　I　asked。　'What；　Elaine？〃　Thinking；　She's　going　to　tell；　me　I　ought　to　quit　writing　about　it。　That　I　ought　to　tear　up　the　pages　I've　written　so　far　and　just　quit　on　it。　
What　she　said　was　〃Don't　let　this　stop　you！〃　
I　gawped　at　her。　
〃Close　your　mouth；　Paul　…　you'll　catch　a　fly。〃　
〃Sorry。　It's　just　that　。。。　well　。　。　。〃　
〃You　thought　I　was　going　to　tell　you　just　the　opposite；　didn't　you？〃　
〃Yes。　〃　
She　took　my　hands　in　hers　（gently；　so　gently　…　her　long　and　beautiful　fingers；　her　bunched　and　ugly　knuckles）　and　leaned　forward；　fixing　my　blue　eyes　with　her　hazel　ones；　the　left　slightly　dimmed　by　the　mist　of　a　coalescing　cataract。　〃I　may　be　too　old　and　brittle　to　live；〃　she　said；　〃but　I'm　not　too　old　to　think。　What's　a　few　sleepless　nights　at　our　age？　What's　seeing　a　ghost　on　the　TV；　for　that　matter？　Are　you　going　to　tell　me　it's　the　only　one　you've　ever　seen？〃　
I　thought　about　Warden　Moores；　and　Harry　Terwilliger；　and　Brutus　Howell；　I　th