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nurse said. Then she said, "Doctor will be in again shortly."
    "I was saying maybe she'd want to go home and get a little rest," the man said. "After the doctor comes."
    "She could do that," the nurse said.
    The woman said, "We'll see what the doctor says." She brought her hand up to her eyes and leaned her head forward.
    The nurse said, "Of course."
    THE father gazed at his son, the small chest inflating and deflating under the covers. He felt more fear now. He began shaking his head. He talked to himself like this. The child is fine. Instead of sleeping at home, he's doing it here. Sleep is the same wherever you do it.
    THE doctor came in. He shook hands with the man. The woman got up from the chair.
    "Ann," the doctor said and nodded. The doctor said, "Let's just see how he's doing." He moved to the bed and touched the boy's wrist. He peeled back an eyelid and then the other. He turned back the covers and listened to the heart. He pressed his fingers here and there on the body. He went to the end of the bed and studied the chart. He noted the time, scribbled on the chart, and then he considered the mother and the father.
    This doctor was a handsome man. His skin was moist and
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    tan. He wore a three-piece suit, a vivid tie, and on his shirt were cufflinks.
    The mother was talking to herself like this. He has just come from somewhere with an audience. They gave him a special medal.
    The doctor said, "Nothing to shout about, but nothing to worry about. He should wake up pretty soon." The doctor looked at the boy again. "Well know more after the tests are in."
    "Oh, no," the mother said.
    The doctor said, "Sometimes you see this."
    The father said, "You wouldn't call this a coma, then?"
    The father waited and looked at the doctor.
    "No, I don't want to call it that," the doctor said. "He's sleeping. It's restorative. The body is doing what it has to do."
    "It's a coma," the mother said. "A kind of coma."
    The doctor said, "I wouldn't call it that."
    He took the woman's hands and patted them. He shook hands with the husband.
    THE woman put her fingers on the child's forehead and kept them there for a while. "At least he doesn't have a fever," she said. Then she said, "I don't know. Feel his head."
    The man put his fingers on the boy's forehead. The man said, "I think he's supposed to feel this way."
    The woman stood there awhile longer, working her lip with her teeth. Then she moved to her chair and sat down.
    The husband sat in the chair beside her. He wanted to say something else. But there was no saying what it should be. He took her hand and put it in his lap. This made him feel
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    better. It made him feel he was saying something. They sat like that for a while, watching the boy, not talking. From time to time he squeezed her hand until she took it away.
    "Pve been praying," she said.
    "Me too," the father said. "I've been praying too."
    A NURSE came back in and checked the flow from the bottle.
    A doctor came in and said what his name was. This doctor was wearing loafers.
    "We're going to take him downstairs for more pictures," he said. "And we want to do a scan."
    "A scan?" the mother said. She stood between this new doctor and the bed.
    "It's nothing," he said.
    "My God," she said.
    Two orderlies came in. They wheeled a thing like a bed. They unhooked the boy from the tube and slid him over onto the thing with wheels.
    I T was after sunup when they brought the birthday boy back out. The mother and father followed the orderlies into the elevator and up to the room. Once more the parents took up their places next to the bed.
    They waited all day. The boy did not wake up. The doctor came again and examined the boy again and left after saying the same things again. Nurses came in. Doctors came in. A technician came in and took blood.
    "I don't understand this," the mother said to the technician.
    "Doctor's orders," the technician said.
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