"David Eddings - Losers, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

"Whatever." He said it as insultingly as possible. "Angleworms feel, Shimpsie. So do oysters, I imagine. I don't know about you, but I hope I've come further than that."

Just for the sake of variety he would sometimes lie to her, inventing outrageous stories about a background as "dysfunctional" as he could concoct. She lapped it up, her eyes begging for more.

He hated her with a passion, but he began to long for her visits. In a strange sort of way Shimpsie was therapeutic.

"That's better, Taylor," Quillian said a week later. "You're starting to get the rhythm now. Don't stump. Make it smooth. Set the crutches down, don't jab at the ground with them. Try to keep from jarring your arms and shoulders."

Raphael, sweating profusely, grimly moved back and forth across the therapy room, gritting his teeth at the burning pain in his arms.

"Why are you picking on Miss Shimp?" Quillian said in a half-amused way.

"Shimpsie? I pick on her because she's an asshole."

Quillian laughed. "Never heard a woman called an asshole before."

"Would you prefer asshole-ess?"

"Asshole or not, you'd better at least try to get along with her,

Taylor."

"Why should I bother?"

"Because you can't get out of here without her okay. She has to sign a release before they'll discharge you. Okay, enough bullshit. Get back to work."

A week or so later Uncle Harry made another trip to Portland, alone this time. "Good to see you again, Rafe," he said, shaking Raphael's hand. He glanced at the crutches leaning in the corner. "I see that you're getting around now."

Raphael looked at him through the haze of the shot he had just been given. "What brings you down here, Uncle Harry?"

"Oh . . ." his uncle replied a bit evasively, "this and that. I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."

"I'm coming along."

"Good for you. Have they given you any idea yet about when you'll be getting out of here?"

Raphael shifted in the bed, wincing slightly. "I imagine that it's going to be a while longer."

"You going back to school when you get out?"

"I haven't really thought about it yet."

Uncle Harry gave him a speculative look. "I'm going to give this to you straight, Rafe. I think we know each other well enough for that."

"Okay," Raphael replied, "what is it?"

"It's your mother, Rafe."

"Mom?"