My Brother's Keeper Read Online Free PDF Page A

acquaintance with three or four more.
    When the Edinburgh conference was over we had a few hours to ourselves before we had to take the train back to Middlesbrough. There was no need to sit and talk any more—we already knew that we got on better together than anyone else in the world. So we hit the fleshpots. I introduced Leo to skate and chips with salt and vinegar, and then to knickerbockerglories, with five flavors of ice cream, pineapple crush, whipped cream, strawberry sauce, chocolate flakes and grated nuts. He insisted he could eat another one. So did I.
    On the train back to Middlesbrough I was sick out of the window on one side and Leo was sick out of one on the other. Two days later we watched a shuttle lift-off together on the television in Aunt Dora's bedroom. That same afternoon we had our first fight.
    I was trying to bring back some details of that when I fell asleep again, and woke to find Sir Westcott Shaw sitting in his favorite place at the end of the bed.
    He was holding two apples in one paw (did the man live on them?) and nodded amiably to me when he saw my eyes were open.
    "How are you feeling?"
    "Terrible." My ribs were killing me, and so was my right leg.
    "Right. I thought you might be. I dropped your dose of painkillers in half."
    "You're very kind."
    "I thought you ought to be as alert as possible for this session."
    "How's Leo?"
    "If you'll give me a minute, I'll tell you. But first off I want to ask you just a few questions. All right?"
    "Whatever you like." I didn't try and hide my impatience.
    He reached down and picked up a pad from the floor next to his feet, then fished out a stub of pencil from his inside jacket pocket. I looked again at the heavy boots, and the fat, banana-bunch fingers.
    "Are you sure you're a doctor and not a policeman?
    He looked at me sympathetically. "Pain's pretty bad, eh? I'll keep this as short as I can, then we'll give you a jab. I'll start with the easy stuff. What's your name?"
    "It's still Lionel Salkind."
    "Good. You're saying that a sight better than you could this time last week. How old are you?"
    "Thirty-seven—unless you've had me unconscious for a few more months and not told me about it."
    "Not this time. Now, I want you to think for a minute before you answer this one. I know your head hurts like hell, and I know we've bunged you full up with drugs. Try and allow for all that, and tell me, does your head feel normal?"
    I tried. It didn't. My thoughts ran in swooping, random patterns, dipping away from the question and back again. I had to concentrate on every word he said, and for the first time I realized I had been like this ever since I woke up after the accident.
    "No," I said at last. "My head feels funny."
    "I'm not surprised. Do you think you can describe it better—give it something more than saying it feels `funny'?"
    "It reminds me of the way I feel when I speak French or German after a long time without using it. I have to grope around for what I want to say, looking for words. And when you speak to me I have to listen very hard to grasp what you're getting at."
    "Good way of putting it." He scowled down at the page, then stuck the pencil up behind his ear. "One more question, then I'll talk for a while. What can you remember about your accident? Take your time, and tell it in any order you like."
    I had to work hard at answering that. So long as I didn't try to pin events down closely, my memory seemed to be clear about what happened. But when I thought hard, events became confused and wandering. It was like trying to look at a very faint star. So long as you look a little away from it, your sensitive peripheral vision lets you see it. When you turn your attention to it directly, it just winks out of existence.
    He showed no impatience as I went through my mental struggles, but when at last I spoke he leaned forward intently, nodding now and again. He said nothing until I described the two men who had entered the wreck and searched me