ASLEEP A KING
31
Bradley is a joke, is nobody. At last was on his feet. There was relief
in that. Sleep has an idiotic, disreputable look when you have recov–
ered from it, the soiled and hopeless look of David lying there like an
animal rolled up in a ball for winter and no good to anyone.
It is better, they say, to be alive.
He looked again at
his
brother, the loose round lips bloated a
little with each outward breath, cheeks hanging full and sodden, the
short chill cupped gently in the pillow as if for protection.
He
was to
have been the promising one in the family, a musician, but that
petered out. Then off into the wide world, where he was to find a for–
tune or at least a job, and fell for an army poster in New York. Now
he was back for good and it seemed there was no use going away.
Sometimes in Spring he got work on the local road gang, sometimes
played for dances
in
the Town Hall as he had as a child. It was awful
to hear him, Mark thought, wringing the sentimental tunes out with
a bitter twang....
"Hey Dave."
He grunted, pulled in a little more like a turtle.
Mark let
him
alone, dressed quickly and joined his mother.
"You won't be here so many more days," she said, pushing
breakfast toward him. "How many is it? Let me see, four, five six ...
I'd ought to give you something special I suppose." She stood hesi–
tantly. There were moments like this when her nose seemed more
thinly bridged than usual and her forehead particularly square and
high.
It
made
him
want to say something special, as she had wanted
to
cook
him
a special kind of egg, but he could not think of anything.
"This is all right," he said.
"Yes. Six, that's it. Friday, Saturday, Sunday.... " She sat
down beside him and fidgetted with an empty coffee cup. On ordinary
days she would have been at the tubs by now but it would seem un–
friendly when there were so few days left. She was treating him like
a guest already: the thought made him feel sick suddenly, and help–
less, as he had waking. "My," she said, "I don't know where the time
flies to ... " and as if time were a family commodity that could be
devoured by one member, she rose abruptly and went in to annoy
David out of his animal sleep. "You're no good," Mark heard. "All
you want is to eat and drink and have somebody slave for you from
morning to night.... "
Through the branches of an antique elm he could see the small
white house he would be living in. He was going to move his life
across the road: already odd bits of furniture had been lugged there
from
his
mother's attic, all the paraphernalia installed, there was noth–
ing more to decide. He would sit opposite Joan, the new Mrs. Bradley,
