red shoes. She was so strong yet so gentle, so tough yet so fragile.
He went to her, and for a while they stood by the refrigerator 7tor,
next to the sink, holding each other and kissing, neither of them
speaking in either of the ways they could. Clint thought they would
have been happy, just then, even if!” of them had been deaf and mute,
capable of neither lip reading nor sign language, because at that moment
what made them happy was the very fact of being together, which no would
could adequately express anyway.
Finally he said,
“What a day! Can’t wait to tell you all about it. Let me clean up real
quick, change clothes. We’ll be of here by eight-thirty, go over to
Caprabello’s, get a corner booth, some wine, some pasta, some garlic
bread-” Some heartburn.
He laughed because it was true. They both loved Caprablo’s, but the
food was spicy. They always suffered for the indulgence.
He kissed her again, and she sat down with her magazine and he went
through the dining room and down the hall the bathroom. While he let
the water run in the sink to it hot, he plugged in his electric razor
and began to shave, grinning at himself in the mirror because he was
such a damn lucky guy.
THE BAD THING, was right in his face, snarling at him, I of questions,
too many for Thomas to think about and answer even if he was sitting in
a chair quiet and happy, instead lifted ofF the floor and held against
the wall with his whole body hurting so bad he had to cry. He kept
saying,
“I’m full up, I, full up.” Always when he said that, people stopped
asking him things or telling him things, they let him take time to make
his head clear. But the Bad Thing was not like other people. It didn’t
care if his head was clear, it just wanted answers. W was Thomas? Who
was his mother? Who was his father Where did he come from? Who was
Julie? Who was Bobby Where was Julie? Where was Bobby?
Then the Bad Thing said,
“Hell, you’re just a dummy. Y don’t know the answers, do You? You’re
just as stupid as are stupid-looking.” It Pulled Thomas away from the
wall, held him off the floor with one hand on his neck, so Thomas
couldn’t breathe good Thomas in the face, hard, and Thomas didn’t want
It slapped to keep crying, but he couldn’t stop, he hurt and was scared.
“Why do they let people like you live?” the Bad Thing asked.
It let go of Thomas, and Thomas dropped on the floor. The Bad Thing
looked down at him in a mean way that made Thomas angry almost as much
as it made him scared. Which was funny-weird, because he almost never
was angry. And this was the first time he was ever angry and scared
both at the same time. But the Bad Thing was looking at him like he was
just a bug or some dirt on the floor that had to be made clean.
“Why don’t they kill you people at birth? What’re you good for? Why
don’t they kill you at birth and chop you up and make dog food out of
you?” Thomas had memories of how people, out there in the world, looked
at him that way or said mean things, and how Julie always Told Them OfF.
She said Thomas didn’t have to be nice to people like that, said he
could tell them they were Being Rude. Now Thomas was angry like he had
Every Right To Be, and even if Julie never told him he could be angry
about these things, he probably would be angry anyway, because some
things you just knew were right or wrong.
The Bad Thing kicked him in the leg, and was going to kick him again,
you could tell, but a noise was made at the window. Some of the aides
were at the window. They broke a little square of glass and reached
through, wanting to find the lock.
When the glass made a breaking sound, the Bad Thing turned from Thomas