"Would you listen
to me? You can't do that here. Someone will see." She held something
up. His keys.
"I'll back it up to the trailhead," she said. "Close the trunk and wait
for me there."
She got behind the wheel and he sloped off to the trailhead and stood,
numbly, holding the lump on his forehead and staring at a rusted Coke
can in a muddy puddle.
She backed the car up almost to his shins, put it in park, and came
around to the trunk. She popped the lid and looked in and wrinkled her
nose.
"Okay," she said. "I'll get him covered and we'll carry him up the
hill."
"Mimi --" he began. "Mimi, it's okay. You don't need to go in there for
me. I know it's hard for you --"
She squeezed his hand. "I'm over it, Andy. Now that I know what's up
there, it's not scary any longer."
He watched her shoulders work, watched her wings work, as she wrapped up
his brother. When she was done, he took one end of the bundle and
hoisted it, trying to ignore the rain of skin and hair that shook off
over the bumper and his trousers.
"Up we go," she said, and moved to take the front. "Tell me when to
turn."
They had to set him down twice before they made it all the way up the
hill. The first time, they just stood in silence, wiping their cramped
hands on their thighs. The second time, she came to him and put her arm
around his shoulders and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek that felt
like a feather.
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