“It gave things a mortal focus, a sort of physical poetry, if that makes sense. His temperature. His pulse and blood pressure. His hours of sleep.” Fiction by David Gilbert.
Miles—quick check of the bird, still there—went where he was told, the rest of the relatives gathering around as well, while a few, always the same few, remained on the sidelines. The Reliquadry resembled a small black stage waiting for its production, and now the production was coming into view, led by Terry, Benjamin’s son-in-law, who was striking Benjamin’s old toy drum, Terry wearing a tricornered hat, which was his own addition and not an addition anyone particularly liked.
Not that Miles cared. He was noticing his brother, who was staring at him, bug-eyed, then shuddering, then grabbing his throat. Hugo would probably try to mess him up, maybe by coughing, maybe by doing one of his patented fake sneezes, which for some reason he was famous for in seventh grade.
Then Mother came along. This year it was Lily’s granddaughter, Lacey, who had had her travails with serious drugs and unfortunate men and had been away for a while but now was back, for who knew how long. She carried a picnic basket and grinned at these strange excellent women and their strange excellent witchy ways.
First things first. Mother removed the flower crowns and put them on their chests—nobody wanted that digging into a skull. Then she opened the picnic basket. Out came candy necklaces, which she gently slipped around their necks. Then the Fig Newtons, two of them, positioned in the center of each of the flower crowns. Followed by cherry Tootsie Pops because the sisters all agreed that cherry was the only flavor. A bottle of water and a straw tucked into the hollow of one arm.
Lacey stared at her mother as though the world would never make sense, not in a million years, nope—but then it did, it suddenly did, and she reached back into the picnic basket and pulled out the spiral notebook, yes, yes, yes, like it was the greatest victory, and she danced it over to Miles.Miles took the notebook, “The Pharmakon” written on the cover in big block letters. It was the kind of word Hugo would like—Miles wanted to remember it.
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