Mimi squeezed his hand so hard he
felt the bones grate.
"Mom?" he said softly, his voice cracking. He took half a step toward
the washer.
*So tired. I'm worn out. I've been worn out.*
He touched the enamel on the lid of the washer, and felt the vibrations
through his fingertips. "I can -- I can take you home," he said. "I'll
take care of you, in the city."
*Too late.*
There was a snapping sound and then a front corner of the machine
settled heavily. One rusted out foot, broken clean off, rolled across
the cave floor.
The water sounds stilled.
Mimi breathed some words, something like Oh my God, but maybe in another
language, or maybe he'd just forgotten his own tongue.
"I need to go," he said.
#
They stayed in a different motel on their way home from the mountain,
and Mimi tried to cuddle him as he lay in the bed, but her wings got in
the way, and he edged over to his side until he was almost falling off
before she took the hint and curled up on her side. He lay still until
he heard her snore softly, then rose and went and sat on the toilet,
head in his hands, staring at the moldy grout on the tiled floor in the
white light, trying not to think of the bones, the hank of brittle red
hair, tied tightly in a shopping bag in the trunk of the rental car.
Sunrise found him pacing the bathroom, waiting for Mimi to stir, and
when she padded in and sat on the toilet, she wouldn't meet his eye.
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