The Texas Twist Read Free Page B

towel? Why is a misfolded one bad? She couldn’t wrap her unschooled mind around the science—a baffling maze of amyloids, fibrils, and spongiform encephalopathy—but she easily understood prions as tiny PAC-MANs munching countless infinitesimal holes in Jonah’s brain. The image was inadequate, but it didn’t matter. The holes were killing her son. What else did anyone need to know? She reached down to rub his head, but refrained. Lately even that had become intolerable to him. The doctors said it would get worse. Then, worse still, it would stop. That’s when they’d know. That’s when the brain would lose its war.
    She fought to stop her tears. Can the waterworks, sister, she told herself. Be strong for your son. She pulled herself together, straightening up, wiping her eyes, and smoothing the pleats of her yellow blouse. As she pushed her hair off her face, she looked back up at the medical center behind her, all soaring steel and grand glass panels. So much science in there, so little help.
    That’s what they mean by incurable.
    â€œCome on, buddy boy,” she said as brightly as she could manage, “let’s go home.”
    They started down the steps of the plaza. Jonah took them two at a time. He seemed to have recovered his mood.Dysesthesia ebbed and flowed, Sarah knew, and thank God for the ebbs. Though lately it seemed to be flowing higher, faster. Were the holes getting that much bigger? Were the prions that hungry? She fought back the thought— No waterworks! —as she called out to her son, “Be careful, Jonah, those steps are steep. You don’t want to trip and—” she caught herself. What? Hit his head? The idea was almost funny, considering everything. She smiled in spite of herself.
    Sarah noticed a man at the bottom of the stairs. She saw immediately how sad he seemed, and how used to the sadness he looked.
    But he brightened when he saw Jonah come clumping down the steps, taking the last five of them in a giant leap. “Stuck the landing!” cried the man when Jonah touched down. This amused Sarah, until he added, “Good job, Jonah!”
    She raced to the bottom of the stairs and demanded, “How did you know my son’s name?”
    â€œWell, I must have just heard you use it.…” he said. Sarah felt foolish for a moment, until he added with a shy smile, “Sarah Crandall.”
    â€œWait, you know my name? No one said that.”
    â€œI know. I’ll explain in a moment.” He offered his hand. “I’m Adam Ames.” She shook it because that’s the polite thing to do.
    Ames turned to Jonah. “I’m not gonna shake your hand, little man. I know how much that would hurt.” Sarah gasped. Ames turned back to her and looked her in the eye. She saw the sadness return. “What does he call it?” Ames asked.
    â€œWh-what?”
    â€œHis condition. Has he given it a name?”
    â€œThe…zizzles.”
    Ames nodded his empathy. “Zizzles. That makes sense. Mine called it the creepy-crawlies.”
    â€œYours?”
    â€œMy Dylan. That was at first. Later he just—” Ames cut himself off. “I’m getting ahead of myself,” he said. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” A nod to Jonah. “Some juice?”
    His Dylan? “Will you tell me how you know me?”
    â€œOf course,” said the handsome and somehow innately charming man. “I want to tell you.” He touched the back of her hand with his palm. “Believe me, it’s worth sitting down for. We’ll just go across the street.”
    Sarah looked at Jonah. “What do you say, buddy? Want some juice?”
    Jonah seemed to give the question more consideration than it deserved, as if his brain were slow to process his thoughts. “I like juice,” he said at last. “Juice is good.”
    They went to a Java Man opposite the medical center. Sarah and