金水小说网

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第44部分（第4页）

filtered　through　from　the　dining　room　（which　was　itself　only　dimly　lit　because

of　the　snow　blocking　the　windows）；　he　thought　he　saw　ranks　and　ranks　of　bottles

twinkling　mutedly　behind　the　bar；　and　syphons；　and　even　beer　dripping　from　the

spigots　of　all　three　highly　polished　taps。　Yes；　he　could　even　smell　beer；　that

damp　and　fermented　and　yeasty　odor；　no　different　from　the　smell　that　had　hung

finely　misted　around　his　fathers　face　every　night　when　he　came　home　from　work。

Eyes　widening；　he　fumbled　for　the　wall　switch；　and　the　low；　intimate　bar…

lighting　came　on；　circles　of　twenty…watt　bulbs　emplanted　on　the　tops　of　the

three　wagon…wheel　chandeliers　overhead。

The　shelves　were　all　empty。　They　had　not　even　as　yet　gathered　a　good　coat　of

dust。　The　beer　taps　were　dry；　as　were　the　chrome　drains　beneath　them。　To　his

left　and　right；　the　velvet…upholstered　booths　stood　like　men　with　high　backs；

each　one　designed　to　give　a　maximum　of　privacy　to　the　couple　inside。　Straight

ahead；　across　the　red…carpeted　floor；　forty　barstools　stood　around　the

horseshoe…shaped　bar。　Each　stool　was　upholstered　in　leather　and　embossed　with

cattle　brands　—　Circle　H；　Bar　D　Bar　（that　was　fitting）；　Rocking　W；　Lazy　B。

He　approached　it；　giving　his　head　a　little　shake　of　bewilderment　as　he　did　so。

It　was　like　that　day　on　the　playground　when　。。。　but　there　was　no　sense　in

thinking　about　that。　Still　he　could　have　sworn　he　had　seen　those　bottles；

vaguely；　it　was　true；　the　way　you　see　the　darkened　shapes　of　furniture　in　a　room

where　the　curtains　have　been　drawn。　Mild　glints　on　glass。　The　only　thing　that

remained　was　that　smell　of　beer；　and　Jack　knew　that　was　a　smell　that　faded　into

the　woodwork　of　every　bar　in　the　world　after　a　certain　period　of　time；　not　to　be

eradicated　by　any　cleaner　invented。　Yet　the　smell　here　seemed　sharp　。。。　almost

fresh。

He　sat　down　on　one　of　the　stools　and　propped　his　elbows　on　the　bars　leather…

cushioned　edge。　At　his　left　hand　was　a　bowl　for　peanuts　　now　empty；　of　course。

The　first　bar　hed　been　in　for　nineteen　months　and　the　damned　thing　was　dry　　just

his　luck。　All　the　same；　a　bitterly　powerful　wave　of　nostalgia　swept　over　him；

and　the　physical　craving　for　a　drink　seemed　to　work　itself　up　from　his　belly　to

his　throat　to　his　mouth　and　nose；　shriveling　and　wrinkling　the　tissues　as　it

went；　making　them　cry　out　for　something　wet　and　long　and　cold。

He　glanced　at　the　shelves　again　in　wild；　irrational　hope　but　the　shelves　were

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