Мгла
After the Storm. Norton. A Trip to Town.
NortoncamefromNewJersey,wheretherewasnobottle-can-law;IguesshecouldbeforgivenforsquashingmynickelwhenIcouldbarelyremembernottodoitmyself.
Billystartedfoolingwiththeradio,andIaskedhimtoseeifWOXOwasbackontheair.HedialeduptoFM92andgotnothingbutablankhum.Helookedatmeandshrugged.Ithoughtforamoment.Whatotherstationswereonthefarsideofthatpeculiarfogfront?
"Try,WBLM,"Isaid.
Hedialeddowntotheotherend,passingWJBQ-FMandWIGY-FMontheway.Theywerethere,doingbusinessasusual...butWBLM,Maine’spremierprogressive-rockstation,wasofftheair.
"Funny,"Isaid.
"What’sthat?"Nortonasked.
"Nothing.Justthinkingoutloud."
BillyhadtunedbacktothemusicalcerealonWJBQ.Prettysoonwegottotown.
TheNorgeWashateriaintheshoppingcenterwasclosed,itbeingimpossibletorunacoin-oplaundrywithoutelectricity,butboththeBridgtonPharmacyandtheFederalFoodsSupermarketwereopen.Theparkinglotwasprettyfull,andasalwaysinthemiddleofthesummer,alotofthecarshadout-of-stateplates.Littleknotsofpeoplestoodhereandthereinthesun,noodlingaboutthestorm,womenwithwomen,menwithmen.
IsawMrs.Carmody,sheofthestuffedanimalsandthestump-waterlore.Shesailedintothesupermarketdeckedoutinanamazingcanary-yellowpantsuit.ApursethatlookedthesizeofasmallSamsonitesuitcasewasslungoveroneforearm.ThenanidiotonaYamaharoaredpastme,missingmyfrontbumperbyafewscantinches.
