What Hearts by Bruce Brooks Page A

things better than people , you know? And that’s wrong, I know it is. So I ought to be different. It is better to be land of loose and easy about stuff.”
    â€œOh yes,” she said. “Like Dave. He’s very loose and easy about stuff, isn’t he? That’s probably how you got that bruise.”
    Asa shut up and plucked grass. His motherwatched him for a minute, then stared back out across the creek. He snuck a look at her; she wasn’t crying or anything, at least. After a few minutes he asked if they could resume their practice.
    She was grave for the rest of their workout. On the way home, silence waited between them. Then she said, “I’m very sorry, Asa.”
    He pretended not to know what she was talking about. A few minutes later she added, “It’s no good.”
    â€œNo, don’t,” he said. He had to say something . “It’s fine.” He gave her a pretty good smile. Then he took her hand, and they held hands all the way home.
    Â 
    In the middle of the night he woke up to find Dave shaking him. He smelled coffee, but it was too dark for morning and he could feel he hadn’t been asleep long enough.
    â€œWake up,” said Dave. “I need your help. We have to get some coffee in her.” Then he ran from the room. Asa pushed his covers away and followed him downstairs.
    Dave, in pajama bottoms, was in thekitchen pouring coffee into a mug. “Too hot,” he said. “Ice.” He yanked open the freezer and pulled out an ice tray and smacked it very hard against the edge of the counter. Chips of ice sprayed all over. He picked a few off the counter and put them in the coffee, then said, “Come on,” and walked past Asa, leaving the freezer door open.
    They went into the bedroom. The light was on. His mother lay diagonally across their bed, her arms at her sides; to Asa she looked strangely heavy and still, like a slab of wet clay. His throat went cold. “Is she—”
    â€œShe’s—asleep,” said Dave, giving him a quick look. He was on the far side of the bed, at her head. “Come here. We’ve got to get some coffee in her.” He was flustered; it gave him an odd gentleness. “Do you want to hold her head or pour?”
    â€œI’ll hold her head.” Asa went around and lifted his mother behind the neck. Dave held the mug up to her mouth and poured some coffee in. A little ran out of the corners of her mouth onto the sheets; the rest seemed to vanish until she coughed and spewed it.
    â€œMore,” said Dave. This time her throat executed a kind of swallow.
    Asa’s arms were trembling; he was glad, actually. He knew he was in the middle of something that ought to be making him frantic, and instead he felt all cool and easy. The trembling showed he felt something , he guessed. “Why is she so asleep?” he asked.
    Most of the coffee was in. Dave looked down into her throat, frowning. “Okay,” he said. “Lie her back down.”
    Asa resisted the temptation to correct Dave’s lie to lay ; instead he said, “Maybe we should sit her up.”
    Dave looked at him. “Right,” he said. He jammed pillows against the headboard of the bed, and they pushed her against them. Her head fell forward, and Dave pushed it back until the pillows held it up. Her head didn’t seem to care. She was out. The only thing about her that moved was her lower lip, which pulled in a bit whenever she sucked a raggedy breath.
    â€œWhy is she so asleep?” Asa asked again.
    Dave ran his fingers through his hair. “You want some coffee too? I got to have some too.”
    Asa followed him into the kitchen. “If you don’t tell me, I’m calling an ambulance,” he said.
    Dave was pouring coffee into the same mug. He turned as he poured. “No,” he said, far more reasonably than Asa expected. “I mean, we don’t need the ambulance.