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Show 150 I ' l l have to call someone else," she said, f i n a l l y , and l e f t. "God; that's brutal," Hunt said. He stroked his mother's hair. His mother said nothing. Another nurse came and adjusted one of the i.v. bottles, released more f l u i d into the tube. "She's looking better today -- isn't she?" the nurse smiled and said. "You're all working very hard for her," Hunt said. "She's got more color." The nurse finished her adjustment. "Yes. Black and blue," his mother said. Hunt laughed, despite himself. More color . . . . She had the colors of f r u i t all her l i f e . The nurse had no idea! Christ! When the nurse had l e f t , Hunt said, "I brought you something." "Why?" his mother asked. The question had a kind of sad and genuine profundity. Hunt told the truth. "Because I needed t o . " Something rushed up into his throat together with the words and struggled there. "You're nice," she said. "Well, I had to learn it," Hunt admitted. "If I'm nice - you taught me." He undid the scotch tape on the bookstore paper bag. "Let me see," she said. He took the book out, carefully, handed it to her. "Oh ..." she said. "Do you know him?" Hunt asked. He thought he saw a foreign thing happening back behind her eyes. She held the book and seemed to hold herself still as a painting. She didn't answer. "Do you know Hopper?" Hunt asked again. |