the rifle that went by at 8.05 looked just like the rifle that went by at 4.55. But the advantageous corollary to this had always been that you had plenty of time to think. All the women on the line nodded solemnly when this point was brought up, but the fact was that there being such a great space of time to be filled with thoughts, and the noise of the factory building being of so high a volume, it was difficult to maintain concentration on almost any subject. And it was nearly impossible to think for any length of time about something that was actually pleasant.
Sarah knew this, and Becca knew it too, but the women wouldn't admit it, even to each other, for then there would be no consolation for the monotony of their employment. But in the weeks following Dean's return from Rucca, Sarah found herself in an even less desirable situation. She discovered that she could, with astonishing vividness, call up the scenes of her present life with Dean; tableaux that were dull, meagre, and bleak. The images were like faded snapshots, carelessly taken and composed to begin with, found in an album where all the good, happy, or interesting pictures had been removed.
The picture that most frequently came to Sarah's mind was her coming to Dean in the hospital for the first time, the very night of the accident. He was motionless, seemingly without sense or intelligence or will, wrapped in the bandages that would obliterate his personality for her. At that time, she knew it was possible he would die, and that gave a real substance to her grief, but now when she thought of the body in that ancient army hospital bed, with the rusted iron headboard pushed against a dull green wall, she knew what she hadn't knowa fen -- that she would be put through wh® was perhaps worse than Dean's death: a permanent widowhood in which she must always bear her husband's corpse at her side.
A second picture was Dean's being brought from.Rucca to Pine Cone in a military ambulance. It wasn't that he had needed the attention or special care, for Sarah had been told that he could have got along just as well stretched across the back seat of Becca's Pontiac, but until he was installed at home in Pine Cone, and Sarah had signed certain documents, he was still the direct responsibility of the United States Army, and they could not afford to take chances. Dean was carried into the house on a stretcher - Sarah had seen a corpse dragged out of a burning car with a lot more life in it - and deposited on the bed. Sarah stood back, leaning against the window, saying nothing, while Jo, sitting in the plush chair at the foot of the bed, berated the two army medical interns for their clumsiness, which was apparent only to her. Sarah saw the two men to the door, apologised for her mother-in-law, thanked them, and waved sadly as they drove off. She returned slowly io the bedroom, and as soon as she was within the door, Jo was commanding her to do this and do that for Dean's comfort: to loosen the string round his pyjamas, to turn his hands so that they rested palm side up, to lower the shades in the room. It was the first time that Jo had seen Dean, ana Sarah was very much surprised that she seemed not in the least dismayed by his appearance. For that moment Sarah ignored Jo, and stared at the figure on the bed; it occurred to her forcibly that Dean was now her total responsibility forever and forever. She was a mule, and Dean would be a heavy rider who would never come down from her back - and Jo was a fat, loathsome mongrel, yapping, and biting at her legs, and making her slow, aimless, unceasing progress a torture.
There were other photographs in the mental album: of herself with trays of food, endlessly feeding Dean with a tarnished spoon that sometimes broke off in his mouth; of Jo, in the plush chair, hemming her enormous dresses and talking to her son, of God-knew-what-terrible-things, and leaving off abmptly whenever Sarah came near and tried to hear what she said;
Sarah knew this, and Becca knew it too, but the women wouldn't admit it, even to each other, for then there would be no consolation for the monotony of their employment. But in the weeks following Dean's return from Rucca, Sarah found herself in an even less desirable situation. She discovered that she could, with astonishing vividness, call up the scenes of her present life with Dean; tableaux that were dull, meagre, and bleak. The images were like faded snapshots, carelessly taken and composed to begin with, found in an album where all the good, happy, or interesting pictures had been removed.
The picture that most frequently came to Sarah's mind was her coming to Dean in the hospital for the first time, the very night of the accident. He was motionless, seemingly without sense or intelligence or will, wrapped in the bandages that would obliterate his personality for her. At that time, she knew it was possible he would die, and that gave a real substance to her grief, but now when she thought of the body in that ancient army hospital bed, with the rusted iron headboard pushed against a dull green wall, she knew what she hadn't knowa fen -- that she would be put through wh® was perhaps worse than Dean's death: a permanent widowhood in which she must always bear her husband's corpse at her side.
A second picture was Dean's being brought from.Rucca to Pine Cone in a military ambulance. It wasn't that he had needed the attention or special care, for Sarah had been told that he could have got along just as well stretched across the back seat of Becca's Pontiac, but until he was installed at home in Pine Cone, and Sarah had signed certain documents, he was still the direct responsibility of the United States Army, and they could not afford to take chances. Dean was carried into the house on a stretcher - Sarah had seen a corpse dragged out of a burning car with a lot more life in it - and deposited on the bed. Sarah stood back, leaning against the window, saying nothing, while Jo, sitting in the plush chair at the foot of the bed, berated the two army medical interns for their clumsiness, which was apparent only to her. Sarah saw the two men to the door, apologised for her mother-in-law, thanked them, and waved sadly as they drove off. She returned slowly io the bedroom, and as soon as she was within the door, Jo was commanding her to do this and do that for Dean's comfort: to loosen the string round his pyjamas, to turn his hands so that they rested palm side up, to lower the shades in the room. It was the first time that Jo had seen Dean, ana Sarah was very much surprised that she seemed not in the least dismayed by his appearance. For that moment Sarah ignored Jo, and stared at the figure on the bed; it occurred to her forcibly that Dean was now her total responsibility forever and forever. She was a mule, and Dean would be a heavy rider who would never come down from her back - and Jo was a fat, loathsome mongrel, yapping, and biting at her legs, and making her slow, aimless, unceasing progress a torture.
There were other photographs in the mental album: of herself with trays of food, endlessly feeding Dean with a tarnished spoon that sometimes broke off in his mouth; of Jo, in the plush chair, hemming her enormous dresses and talking to her son, of God-knew-what-terrible-things, and leaving off abmptly whenever Sarah came near and tried to hear what she said;
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