Read Online A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers - Free Book Online Page A

don ’ t you look? You ’ re seven, you ’ re perfectly capable of looking. ”
    “ We don ’ t have anything good. ”
    “ Then don ’ t eat. ”
    “ But I ’ m hungry. ”
    “ Then eat something. ”
    “ But what? ”
    “ Jesus, Toph, just have an apple. ”
    “ I don ’ t want an apple. ”
    “ C ’ mere, sweetie, ” says Mom.
    “ We ’ ll get some food later, ” I say.
    “ Come to Mommy. ”
    “ What kind of food? ”
    “ Go downstairs, Topher. ”
    Toph goes back downstairs.
    “ He ’ s scared of me, ” she says.
    “ He ’ s not scared of you. ”
    In a few minutes, I lift the towel to see the nose. The nose is turning purple. The blood is not thickening. The blood is still thin and red.
    “ It ’ s not clotting, ” I say.
    “ I know. ”
    “ What do you want to do? ”
    “ Nothing. ”
    “ What do you mean, nothing? ”
    “ It ’ ll stop. ”
    “ Its not stopping. ”
    “ Wait awhile. ”
    “ We ’ ve been waiting awhile. ”
    “ Wait more. ”
    “ I think we should do something. ”
    “ Wait. ”
    “ When ’ s Beth coming back? ”
    “ I don ’ t know. ”
    “ We should do something. ”
    “ Fine. Call the nurse. ”
    I call the nurse we call when we have questions. We call her when the IV isn ’ t dripping properly, or when there ’ s a bubble in the tube, or when bruises the size of dinner plates appear on our mother ’ s back. For the nose the nurse suggests pressure, and keeping her head back. I tell her that I have been doing just that, and that it has not yet worked. She suggests ice. I say thank you and hang up and go to the kitchen and wrap three cubes of ice in a paper towel. I bring them back and apply them to the bridge of her nose.
    “ Ah! ” she says.
    “ Sorry, ” I say.
    “ It ’ s cold ”
    “ It ’ s ice. ”
    “ I know it ’ s ice. ”
    “ Well, ice is cold ”
    I still have to apply pressure to the nose, so with my left hand I apply pressure, and with my right I hold the ice to the bridge of her nose. It ’ s awkward, and I can ’ t do both things while sitting on the arm of the couch and still be in a position to see the television.
    I try kneeling on the floor next to the couch. I reach over the arm of the couch to apply the ice with one hand, and pressure with the other. This works fine, but after a short while my neck gets sore, having to turn ninety degrees to see the screen. It ’ s all wrong.
    I have an inspiration. I climb onto the top of the couch, above the cushions, on top of the back of the couch. I stretch out on the top, the cushions shhhing as I settle my weight upon them. I reach down so my head and arms are both aiming in the same direction, with my arms just reaching her nose and my head resting comfortably on the top of the couch, with a nice view of the set. Perfect. She looks up at me and rolls her eyes. I give her a thumbs up. Then she spits green fluid into the half-moon receptacle.
    My father had not moved. Beth stood in the entranceway to the family room and waited. He was about ten feet from the street. He was kneeling, but with his hands on the ground, fingers extended down, like roots from a riverbed tree. He was not praying. His head tilted back for a moment as he looked up, not to the sky, but to the trees in the neighbor ’ s backyard. He was still on his knees. He had gone to get the newspaper.
    The half-moon container is full. There are now three colors in the half-moon container—green, red, and black. The blood, which is coming through her nose, is also coming through her mouth. I study the container, noting the way the three fluids do not mix, the green fluid being more viscous, the blood, this blood so thin, just swishing around on top. There is some black liquid in the corner. Maybe that is bile.
    “ What ’ s the black stuff? ” I ask, pointing to it from my perch above her.
    “ That ’ s probably bile, ” she says.
    A.H.W.O.S.G.