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The sköldpadda tumbled to the red rug, bounced beneath one of the tables, and there (like a certain paper boat some of you may remember) passes out of this tale forever.
“Make your call, Eddie,” Roland said, and then crossed Bridgton’s high street with slow confidence, walking in the same rolling gait that had taken him across a thousand other high streets in a thousand small towns.
Do any of us, except in our dreams, truly expect to be reunited with our hearts’ deepest loves, even when they leave us only for minutes, and on the most mundane of errands? No, not at all. Each time they go from our sight we in our secret hearts count them as dead. Having been given so much, we reason, how could we expect not to be brought as low as Lucifer for the staggering presumption of our love?
I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For love’s ever been the more destructive weapon, sure.
Sheemie put his arms around Roland’s neck and hugged him tight. Roland smiled and stroked his curly hair with his disfigured right hand. A loud, honking sob escaped Sheemie’s throat. Susannah could see the tears in the corners of the gunslinger’s eyes. “Aye,” Roland said, speaking in a voice almost too low to hear. “I always knew you were special; Bert and Alain did, too. And here we find each other, well-met further down the path. We’re well-met, Sheemie son of Stanley. So we are. So we are.”
Eddie came out of the box-office and embraced her. “Hey, sugarman, hey,” she murmured, fluttering kisses along the side of his neck in a way that made him shiver. Then Jake was there—pale from the killing, but composed—and she slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Her eyes happened on Roland, standing on the sidewalk behind the three he had drawn to Mid-World. His gun dangled beside his left thigh, and could he feel the expression of longing on his face? Did he even know it was there? She doubted it, and her heart went out to him. “Come here, Gilead,” she said. “This is a
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“Thank you for my second chance,” he said. “Thank you . . . Father.”
Yet you may find forgiveness there rather than death, for the capacity for forgiveness in the hearts of such people is beyond the capacity of hearts such as yours to understand. Or mine, for that matter.
He opened it and slipped inside with no look back. That, he had found, was ever the easiest way.
(oh yes, she had her ghosts—and at least one mean-hearted demon, as well—but which of us don’t?).
It occurred to him that if he had never loved them, he would never have felt so alone as this. Yet of all his many regrets, the re-opening of his heart was not among them, even now.
“NOW COMES ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER! I HAVE BEEN TRUE AND I STILL CARRY THE GUN OF MY FATHER AND YOU WILL OPEN TO MY HAND!” Patrick watched him stride to where the road ended, a black silhouette against that bloody burning sky. He watched as Roland walked among the roses, and sat shivering in the shadows as Roland began to cry the names of his friends and loved ones and ka-mates; those names carried clear in that strange air, as if they would echo forever. “I come in the name of Steven Deschain, he of Gilead! “I come in the name of Gabrielle Deschain, she of Gilead! “I come in the name of
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And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.
There is no such thing as a happy ending. I never met a single one to equal “Once upon a time.” Endings are heartless. Ending is just another word for goodbye.
The gunslinger paused for a moment, swaying on his feet. He thought he’d almost passed out. It was the heat, of course; the damned heat. There was a wind, but it was dry and brought no relief. He took his waterskin, judged how much was left by the heft of it, knew he shouldn’t drink—it wasn’t time to drink—and had a swallow, anyway. For a moment he had felt he was somewhere else. In the Tower itself, mayhap. But of course the desert was tricky, and full of mirages. The Dark Tower still lay thousands of wheels ahead. That sense of having climbed many stairs and looked into many rooms where many
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The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.
