to them, with a satirical tone that automatically conferred the capital letters—the same satirical tone that could sometimes drive Samantha into a frenzy), the disposal in the kitchen sink had somehow backed up into the bar sink, and when her mother turned the gadget on again in an effort to get rid of everything, green goo had exploded all over the ceiling. Donna had been about fourteen at the time, and she remembered that her mother’s utter, hysterical rage had both frightened and sickened her. She had been sickened because her mother was throwing a tantrum in front of the people who loved and needed her most over the opinion of a group of casual acquaintances who were coming over to drink free booze and munch up a lot of free canapés. She had been frightened because she could see no logic in her mother’s tantrum . . . and because of the expression she had seen in her father’s eyes. It had been a kind of resigned disgust. That had been the first time she had really believed—believed in her gut—that she was going to grow up and become a woman, a woman with at least a fighting chance to be a better woman than her own mother, who could get into such a frightening state over what was really such a little thing. . . .
She closed her eyes and tried to dismiss the whole train of thought, uneasy at the vivid emotions that memory called up. SPCA, greenhouse effect, garbage disposals, what next? How I Lost My Virginity? Six Well-Loved Vacations? The mailman, that was the thing to think about, the goddam mailman.
“Mommy, maybe the car will start now.”
“Honey, I’m scared to try it because the battery is so low.”
“But we’re just sitting here,” he said, sounding petulant and tired and cross. “What does it matter if the battery’s low or not if we’re just sitting here? Try it!”
“Don’t you go giving me orders, kiddo, or I’ll whack your ass for you!”
He cringed away from her hoarse, angry voice and she cursed herself again. He was scratchy . . . so, who could blame him? Besides, he was right. That was what had really made her angry. But Tad didn’t understand; the real reason she didn’t want to try the engine again was because she was afraid it would bring the dog. She was afraid it would bring Cujo, and more than anything else she didn’t want that.
Grimly, she turned the key in the ignition. The Pinto’s engine cranked very slowly now, with a draggy, protesting sound. It coughed twice but did not fire. She turned the key off and tapped the horn. It gave a foggy, low honk that probably didn’t carry fifty yards, let alone to that house at the bottom of the hill.
“There,” she said briskly and cruelly. “Are you happy? Good.”
Tad began to cry. He began the way she always remembered it beginning when he was a baby: his mouth drawing into a trembling bow, the tears spilling down his cheeks even before the first sobs came. She pulled him to her then, saying she was sorry, saying she didn’t mean to be mean, it was just that she was upset too, telling him that it would be over as soon as the mailman got there, that she would take him home and wash his hair. And thought: A fighting chance to be a better woman than your mother. Sure. Sure, kid. You’re just like her. That’s just the kind of thing she would have said in a situation like this. When you’re feeling bad, what you do is spread the misery, share the wealth. Well, like mother like daughter, right? And maybe when Tad grows up, he’ll feel the same way about you as you feel about—
“Why is it so hot, Mommy?” Tad asked dully.
“The greenhouse effect,” she answered, without even thinking about it. She wasn’t up to this, and she knew it now. If this was, in any sense, a final examination on motherhood—or on adulthood itself—then she was flagging the test. How long had they been stuck in this driveway? Fifteen hours at the very most. And she was cracking up, falling apart.
“Can I have a Dr Pepper when we get home, Mommy?” The Monster Words, sweaty and wrinkled, lay limply on his lap.
“All you can drink,” she said, and hugged him tight. But the feel of his body was frighteningly wooden. I shouldn’t have shouted at him, she thought