Если я останусь
9:06 P.M.
"IcancallGranandshe’llpickyouup,"Dadsaid,wincingatMom’sbarrage."Thismighttakeawhile."
Ishookmyhead.Momneededme.She’dsaidso.Isatdownononeofthefloralcouchesandpickedupamagazinewithagoofy-lookingbaldbabyonthecover.Daddisappearedintotheroomwiththebed.
"Music!Goddammit!Music!"Momscreamed.
"WehavesomelovelyEnya.Verysoothing,"themidwifesaid.
"FuckEnya!"Momscreamed."Melvins.Earth.Now!"
"I’vegotitcovered,"Dadsaid.ThenhepoppedaCDoftheloudest,churningest,guitar-heaviestmusicI’deverheard.Itmadeallthefast-pacedpunksongsDadnormallylistenedtosoundlikeharpmusic.ThismusicwasprimalandthatseemedtomakeMomfeelbetter.Shestartedmakingtheselowgutturalnoises.Ijustsattherequietly.Everysooftenshe’dscreammynameandI’dscamperinside.Momwouldlookupatme,herfaceplasteredwithsweat.Don’tbescared,she’dwhisper.Womencanhandletheworstkindofpain.You’llfindoutoneday.Thenshe’dscreamf**kagain.
I’dseenacoupleofbirthsonthatcable-TVshow,andpeopleusuallyyelledforawhile;sometimestheysworeandithadtobebleeped,butitnevertooklongerthanhalfanhour.Afterthreehours,MomandtheMelvinswerestillscreamingalong.Thewholebirthingcenterfelttropicallyhumid,eventhoughitwasfortydegreesoutside.
Henrydroppedby.Whenhecameinsideandheardthenoise,hefrozeinhistracks.Iknewthatthewholekid-thingfreakedhimout.
