Things You Should Know by A. M. Homes Read Free Book Online Page A

early,” he’d say.
    And soon there was nothing left to say.
    â€œYou’re all so boring,” he’d say, which didn’t leave anyone feeling good about anything.
    â€œGood night,” they’d say.
    He drove, the engine purred. They passed houses, lit for night, front porch lights on, upstairs bathroom light on, reading light on. He drove and she kept a lookout, fixed on the edges of the road, waiting to catch the eyes of an animal about to dash, the shadow of a deer about to jump.
    When he got drunk, he’d start looking for a fight. If there wasn’t another man around to wrestle with he’d turn on her.
    â€œHow can you talk incessantly all night and then the minute we’re in the car you have nothing to say?”
    â€œI had nothing to say all night either,” she said.
    â€œSuch a fucking depressive—what’s wrong with you?”
    He accelerated.
    â€œI’m not going to fight with you,” she said.
    â€œYou’re the kind of person who thinks she’s always right,” he said.
    She didn’t answer.
    Â 
    Coming into town the light was green. A narrow road, framed by hundred-year-old trees, a big white house on the left, an inn across the way, the pond where in winter ice-skaters turned pirouettes, the cemetery on the far side, the old windmill, the Episcopal church, all of it deeply picturesque.
    Green light, go. Coming around the corner, he seemed to speed up rather than slow down, he seemed to press his foot harder into the gas. They turned the corner. She could tellthey weren’t going to make it. She looked at him to see if he had the wheel in hand, if he had any idea what he was doing, if he thought it was a joke. And then as they picked up more speed, as they slipped off the road, between two trees, over the embankment, she looked away.
    The car stopped and her body continued on.
    Â 
    She remembers flying as if on a magic carpet, flying the way you might dream it, flying over water—sudden, surprising, and not entirely unpleasant.
    She remembers thinking she might fly forever, all the way home.
    She remembers thinking to cover her head, remembers they are by a cemetery.
    She remembers telling herself—This is the last time.
    She remembers when they went canoeing on the pond. A swan came charging toward the boat like a torpedo, like a hovercraft, skimming the surface, gaining on them. At first they thought it was funny and then it wasn’t.
    â€œShould I swing my paddle at him? Should I try and hit him on the head? Should I break his fucking neck? What should I do?” he kept asking, all the while leaving her at the front of the boat, paddling furiously, left, right, left, right.
    Now, something is pecking at her, biting her.
    There is a sharp smell like ammonia, like smelling salts.
    She remembers her body not attached to anything.
    â€œCan you hear us?”
    â€œCan someone get the swans out of here?”
    Splashing. People walking in water. A lot of commotion.
    â€œAre you in pain?”
    â€œDon’t try to move. Don’t move anything. Let us do all the work.”
    She remembers a lot of questions, time passing very slowly. She remembers the birds, a church, the leaf of a tree, the night sky, red lights, white lights in her eyes. She thinksshe screamed. She meant to scream. She doesn’t know if she can make any noise.
    â€œWhat is your name?”
    â€œCan you tell me your name?”
    â€œCan you feel this?”
    â€œWe’re going to give you some oxygen.”
    â€œWe’re going to set up an IV, there may be a little stick.”
    â€œDo these bites on your head hurt?”
    â€œFollow this light with your eyes.”
    â€œLook at me. Can you look at me?”
    He turns away. “We’re going to need a medevac helicopter. We’re going to need to land on that churchyard up there. We’re going to need her stable, in a hard collar and on a board. I think we may