"Here. Try giving him this." Pete had forgotten about the Arkins until Carola reached past him to hand Martha a plastic cup.
"How...how do you do it?" Martha asked, automatically taking it but her eyes not leaving Clark's face.
"Pillows to get his head up more, then pouring in a spoonful or so, after he swallows. I'll get him up. You might want to sit, sometimes it takes a while."
As she stacked pillows underneath his head and neck until they were upright, Pete kept waiting for some kind of movement, some reaction, on Clark's part. It was one of the most horrible things he'd seen, the rag doll passivity mingled with the flesh and eyes of a living being. He'd seen a lot, a lot that kept him up at night, but it was the way that ordinary and horror were mixed--nothing abnormal about a young man lying in bed--that made him see clearly the difference between a night awake and a nightmare.
"Go ahead."
"Clark, honey, it's Mom. Can you drink this for me?" He wasn't expecting Clark to pipe up, "Sure, Mom," and open wide, but damn, it made him hurt, hurt for all of them, seeing no reaction. Carefully placing the rim between Clark's lips, she tilted the glass slightly and stared at Clark's throat, and Pete was ready to swear he wasn't the only one willing it to move in a swallow.
Even the tiny motion, when it came, was such a relief that he looked around the room, hoping to see it mirrored in the others. Arkin, who had slipped out unnoticed, returned with what was pretty close to a smile. "His heart rate didn't change a bit. When my sister or I feed him, it always changes." It was definitely a smile now. "Mrs. Kent, it seems likely that, at some level, he recognizes you." That time, Pete didn't have to look around.
"Would you try something else, since that went so well?" Carola was watching Clark intently. "We've been trying to restore his sense of body autonomy, cause and effect, so to speak, of his physical movements. Try it again, but take his hand and put it with yours on the cup."
Martha, looking like she was holding her breath, lifted the blanket covering him and gingerly taking his hand, wrapped it around the cup, underneath hers. Pete wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if Clark tensed, but Martha, who must have seen the same thing, murmured, "Just a bit more, sweetheart, you're doing fine, we're right here, Clark." He couldn't see any more if Clark was swallowing--the arm Martha was guiding was in the way--but from the regular, tiny tilts of the glass, he didn't need to see.
This time it was Carola who had quietly left and returned. "His heart rate went up for a moment but returned to its normal pace. Before, it always jumped to twice that rate and stayed there. It can't be coincidence.*
"Oh, sweetheart," Martha breathed, leaning in to kiss Clark's forehead. Pete could hear Jonathan's voice as if he were saying it out loud then and there, "Nothing wrong with crying, son, as long as you're with the people who love you."
*****
*it's moving like the river water up and back and down and up again leaving a little bit*
*but here you can't find me*
*the water's warmer now back and forth back and forth*
*please let me go they're calling me and if I don't go soon they'll leave they'll think I don't want to please let me go don't you hear them*
*there's something in my hands now but it's colder than the water back and forth back and forth*
*slow and soft and back and forth they're saying soft things*
*if I let go the water will catch me and I'll be back and forth too*
*rock-a-bye baby rock-a-bye baby rock-a-bye baby*
"How...how do you do it?" Martha asked, automatically taking it but her eyes not leaving Clark's face.
"Pillows to get his head up more, then pouring in a spoonful or so, after he swallows. I'll get him up. You might want to sit, sometimes it takes a while."
As she stacked pillows underneath his head and neck until they were upright, Pete kept waiting for some kind of movement, some reaction, on Clark's part. It was one of the most horrible things he'd seen, the rag doll passivity mingled with the flesh and eyes of a living being. He'd seen a lot, a lot that kept him up at night, but it was the way that ordinary and horror were mixed--nothing abnormal about a young man lying in bed--that made him see clearly the difference between a night awake and a nightmare.
"Go ahead."
"Clark, honey, it's Mom. Can you drink this for me?" He wasn't expecting Clark to pipe up, "Sure, Mom," and open wide, but damn, it made him hurt, hurt for all of them, seeing no reaction. Carefully placing the rim between Clark's lips, she tilted the glass slightly and stared at Clark's throat, and Pete was ready to swear he wasn't the only one willing it to move in a swallow.
Even the tiny motion, when it came, was such a relief that he looked around the room, hoping to see it mirrored in the others. Arkin, who had slipped out unnoticed, returned with what was pretty close to a smile. "His heart rate didn't change a bit. When my sister or I feed him, it always changes." It was definitely a smile now. "Mrs. Kent, it seems likely that, at some level, he recognizes you." That time, Pete didn't have to look around.
"Would you try something else, since that went so well?" Carola was watching Clark intently. "We've been trying to restore his sense of body autonomy, cause and effect, so to speak, of his physical movements. Try it again, but take his hand and put it with yours on the cup."
Martha, looking like she was holding her breath, lifted the blanket covering him and gingerly taking his hand, wrapped it around the cup, underneath hers. Pete wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if Clark tensed, but Martha, who must have seen the same thing, murmured, "Just a bit more, sweetheart, you're doing fine, we're right here, Clark." He couldn't see any more if Clark was swallowing--the arm Martha was guiding was in the way--but from the regular, tiny tilts of the glass, he didn't need to see.
This time it was Carola who had quietly left and returned. "His heart rate went up for a moment but returned to its normal pace. Before, it always jumped to twice that rate and stayed there. It can't be coincidence.*
"Oh, sweetheart," Martha breathed, leaning in to kiss Clark's forehead. Pete could hear Jonathan's voice as if he were saying it out loud then and there, "Nothing wrong with crying, son, as long as you're with the people who love you."
*****
*it's moving like the river water up and back and down and up again leaving a little bit*
*but here you can't find me*
*the water's warmer now back and forth back and forth*
*please let me go they're calling me and if I don't go soon they'll leave they'll think I don't want to please let me go don't you hear them*
*there's something in my hands now but it's colder than the water back and forth back and forth*
*slow and soft and back and forth they're saying soft things*
*if I let go the water will catch me and I'll be back and forth too*
*rock-a-bye baby rock-a-bye baby rock-a-bye baby*