Free A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers

” “ Why? ”
    “ We promised. ” “ Oh c ’ mon. ”
    “ What? ”
    “ This can ’ t be it. ”
    “ It could be it. ”
    “ I know it could be it, but it shouldn ’ t be it. ”
    “ She wants it to be it. ”
    “ No, she doesn ’ t. ”
    “ I think she does. ”
    “ No she doesn ’ t. ”
    “ She said so. ”
    “ She didn ’ t mean it. ”
    “ I think she might. ”
    “ No way. That ’ s ridiculous. ”
    “ Did you hear her? ”
    “ No, but even so. ”
    “ What do you think? ”
    “ I think she ’ s scared. ”
    “ Yeah. ”
    “ And I think she ’ s not ready. I mean, are you ready? ”
    “ No, of course not. You? ”
    “ No. No, no. ”
    Beth goes back to the family room. I wash out the half-moon receptacle, my head struggling with the logistics. So. Okay. At this rate, with the blood coming out slowly but continuously, how long would it actually take? A day? No, no, less—it ’ s not all the blood, well before all the blood was gone it would be— We wouldn ’ t actually be waiting for all the blood to drain; rather, after a while, things would break down, would— Jesus, how much blood? A gallon? Less? We could find out. We could call the nurse again. No, no, we can ’ t. If we ask someone they ’ ll make us bring her in. And if they knew we needed to bring her in, and we didn ’ t bring her in, we ’ d be murderers. We could call the emergency room, ask hypothetically: “ Hi, I ’ m doing a report for school about slow blood leakage and... ” Fuck. Would we have enough towels? God no. We could use sheets, we have plenty of sheets— It might be only a few hours. Would that be enough time? What ’ s enough time? We would talk a lot. Yes. We would sum up. Would we be serious, sober, or funny? We would be serious for a few minutes— Okay okay okay okay. Fuck, what if we ran out of things to say and— We ’ ve already made the necessary arrangements. Yes, yes, we wouldn ’ t need to talk details. We ’ d have Toph come up. Would we have Toph come up? Of course, but... oh he shouldn ’ t be there, should he? Who wants to be there at the very end? No one, no one. But for her to be alone...of course she won ’ t be alone, you ’ ll be there, Beth ’ ll be there, dumb-ass. Fuck. We ’ d have to get Bill on the phone. Who else? Which relatives? No grandparents, her parents long gone, in-laws gone, her sister Ruth gone, her sister Ann not dead but gone, out of touch, hiding, that hippie freak— Fuck. Some of those people hadn ’ t called in years. Friends then. Which? The ones from volleyball, from Montessori— Shit, we ’ ll definitely forget some people... Hell, we ’ ll forget some people, people will understand, they ’ ll have to— Fuck it, we ’ re leaving anyway, we ’ re moving away after all this, fuck it— A conference call? No, no— tacky. Tacky but practical, definitely practical, and it might also be fun, people chatting, lots of voices, we could use noise and distraction, not quiet, not quiet, quiet not good—need noise. We ’ d have to prime them, warn them, but shit, what to say? “ Things are happening quickly ” —something like that, vague but clear enough, do it quietly, everything implicit, get on the kitchen extension, out of earshot, say something before Mom gets on the phone— That would do the trick, all the people on the line at once— I ’ ll have to call the phone company, get some kind of hookup— Are we already signed up for that kind of thing? Call-waiting, sure, but conference calling—probably not, definitely not, fuck— We need a speakerphone is what we need. That would do it, a speakerphone— I could go get one, I ’ d have to go all the way up to Kmart, take Dad ’ s car even, faster than Mom ’ s, much faster— Is that a stick? No, no, automatic, I can drive it, haven ’ t driven it before but could drive it, no problem, fast car, open it up there on the highway— But fuck, it ’ s easily twenty minutes there