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Show 7 Motherlunge a novel 66 So there I was a moment later, standing on the front steps and watching the dog make small circles in the front yard with his nose to the ground. He found a suitable spot and crouched in that unstable, vulnerable way that big dogs do, eyes wide and alert, back legs trembling as if weakened by some dread muscle-wasting disease, polio or Duchenne's dystrophy maybe. A car drove by. I looked at my watch. I looked at the black and purple sky. My mind made small circles. From the open door behind me-through which expensive heat escaped the house-I heard the springs of the hide-a-bed groaning as my mother settled on it. Did she want me to come back to Supernal with her? I shoved the thought aside. General climbed the steps and sat down on my left foot. I stayed looking out; I wondered what Eli was doing. Elsewhere Eli was sleeping, dreaming an uncomplicated dream. He was happy without knowing it, I was sure. As in a vast plain, laying down with the lions and the lambs, he slept while serotonin washed across his brain folds like the waters of the Nile strumming the papyrus with a hushing sound, the Nile, the Nile, the Nile. Unconditionally and without judgment, he was sleeping, blind to me and mine. The next morning Pavia knocked on my door early. It was time to go to the airport with her. As we left the apartment, we passed Dorothy and Joseph still asleep on the hide-a-bed. Joseph was curled in a fetal position; Dorothy was flat on her back, her breathing rattling up and down as if on a weak and phlegmy ladder. |
