"Bruce Holland Rogers - Whalesong" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rogers Bruce Holland)

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When Richard filled his mother's glass at the kitchen sink, the pipes said Aaaawooooot, and then
echoed Ootootoot.
"God, that's irritating," Helen said as she pulled the casserole from the oven.
"The toilet does it, too," said Carissa. "And the bathroom sink." She drummed on the table with two
spoons.
"Do you want to go to your room?" Helen asked.
"No," Carissa said, still drumming.
"Then cool it and finish setting the table."
***


Helen had always been amazed at how long the kids could dawdle over loading the dishwasher.
Tonight, after trying unsuccessfully to read the newspaper in the living room while they fought and carried
one glass or one fork at a time from the table, she sent them to bed early and finished the job herself.
When she turned the appliance on, it sang a rising and falling Aaaa-ank. Aaaaaa-ank.
Aaaaaaaaaa-aaaaank.
"O.K.," she said. "That's enough!"
In the garage she opened David's toolbox, and as she touched the cool metal of the tools, she felt a
tremor move from her hand and into her arm. She closed her eyes and said deliberately, "I will need a
locking pliers and a pipe wrench and maybe a screwdriver," though she actually had little idea what she
might need or what she might do with it.
Inside the house again, she heard Carissa calling her.
"What is it?" Helen said from the hall.
Long silence.
"What!"
"I want a drink of water."
"You're a big girl. You get a drink yourself, and then you get right back in bed. No dillydallying." She
turned and walked toward the stairwell.
"Mom?"
"What now?"
Another long silence.
"Carissa, what?"
Again, silence, and Helen turned toward the basement stairs again.
As she started down, she felt strange, as though her limbs grew a little heavier with each step. The air
felt thickened. Down. Down. Each step took longer than the one before it. Down. She became aware of
the effort required to fill her lungs. There was a distant roaring sound, like the surf heard from afar. Each
breath slow. Each step deliberate. From the bottom of the stairs, the light bulb at the top of the stairwell
looked far away and shimmery. The basement air was damp. Helen put her forearm against the cold wall
and took a long, slow breath. Just breathing in and breathing out was hard work.
Far away, she heard Carissa call, "Mom?" but she turned toward the utility roomthat lay beyond the
rec room. Slow steps. Now, though, she no longer felt heavy. Instead, it was as though she were no
heavier than the air, and she had to move slowly because with each step she had to concentrate on
keeping her feet on the floor. She switched on the blue light over the pool table, and it seemed dimmer
and bluer than she remembered it. Her hand felt the switch on the utility room wall, but no light came
when she made it click several times with a hollow sound. She swam into the room with the murky blue
light behind her.
The room stretched out farther in front of her than reason told her it could. She couldn't see the walls.