"Vonda N. McIntyre-Only At Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (McIntyre Vonda N)

seen me. I take his arm and tell him gently to sit still and I try to pull him away from the backboard. His
head hits again and I see his eyes when his hair flops away. They are blue... the same clear blue...
My voice rises and I try to soften it. He'll feel my panic like an animal and know I'm afraid. I drop the
railing and take his shoulders. He's taller than I, and heavier by half. His expression when he sleeps is
peaceful, but now he pulls his lips back from his teeth-- the light sparks from them and blinds me. I feel
tears running down my cheeks like molten ore.
He hits me. The force throws me back against another bed; I hit my head and slide to the floor. I can't
get up; though I try I have as little control over my body as the children. I feel blood from my cut lip
flowing out to mix with tears, and a sticky dampness spreads from the dull pain where a bed rail cut my
scalp. I try to rise again and almost faint. I lie still.
I hear a clang and the sliding of sheets. I strain my eyes and see Peter crawling out of his bed. He has
never been taught to walk. He seems to be coming toward me and I'm afraid again, but he ignores me
and flounders to the aisle between the rows of beds. He moves farther into my field of vision. I can see
the other children coming and I hear the sides of cribs clanking down. I must be dreaming. The noises
rise. I clench my teeth for the pain, but unlike a pinch it doesn't wake me up. I know that if I could move,
or scream, or make any noise at all, this would stop. If I didn't think that I would doubt my sanity.
The children gather around Peter.
My hearing is distorted and I feel very far away. I can hear them talking but I can't make out any
words. They look like a war council of ancient veterans, come to display their war wounds: missing
hands and feet and ears and noses, twisted bodies, seal flippers and crab-skins, deep scars that twinge
before storms. They look so absurd that I'd laugh if I could. It would be the first time I ever laughed
here.
They look very angry and their voices are shrill. One of them shakes a fist of seven fingers grown
together.
I wish it were day. Then I could hope for a nurse on a coffee break or a doctor on rounds or even one
of the infrequent parents on pilgrimage to purge their guilt with fifteen minutes, and pity, and finally flight.
I think the children are there for a long time, but I can't really tell. I'm dizzy. My hip and shoulder hurt
where they're pressed against the floor. My physical incapacity gives my imagination too much freedom:
the children are plotting against me. When the doctors and the other nurses come in the morning they will
find me hanging, crucified, against the wall. I will wear a crown of needles and catheters. I will be nude
and bleeding, but in three days I will not rise. If they can make plans of revolt or revenge, surely they can
see that I am not the one to hate. I try to ridicule myself for taking dreams and fancies seriously, but I'm
not sure now that it's all a dream. It seems very real. I'm frightened, and I'm trembling.
They seem to be done talking. The council roils and breaks and moves toward me. As if I could stop
them with my eyes I watch them crawl and drool on the floor. I brace myself... but they fragment their
united front and crawl away. A few of them look at me. Peter touches my hand before he clambers up
into bed. I lie here, and slowly everything becomes quiet again.
In the morning I'm asleep and the nurses easily wake me. I can move. I have a cut on my head and
blood and a bruise on my chin. There's a lot of blood on the floor, but I only have a dull headache and
orders to get some stitches. I remember what happened last night. I decide not to say anything, because
they'll think I'm crazy. Peter is lying on his back in his bed-cage, gabbling dully like a grotesque newborn.
Everything else is in order. The other nurses ask me if I'm all right. I tell them I had a nightmare while I
was unconscious and they cluck in sympathy. One of them offers to take my shift, the inconvenient, lonely
one, at least until I'm better. I'm going to pretend I don't notice it when she begins to regret her
generosity.
They smile and the head nurse tells me to take some time off and rest until my scalp has healed. I thank
her. After I go home I'll have to decide whether to come back or not... If I do I'll come at night. The
parents only visit in the daytime.
Published by Alexandria Digital Literature. ( http://www.alexlit.com/ )
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