Coe Review

How They Came to Call it Love
S. Asher Sund
A little cough, a little sniffle—that was how it started, as a simple little
cold. A day later it was followed with a little reddish bile in the diaper (not
blood-red, but brown-red, as if only a slight case of food poisoning or a touch
of the flu). Nothing to worry about. Her husband's words that she had used
for a time with the baby. Nothing to worry about, she said, while patting her
daughter gently on the back until she got what she was looking for, a little
burp, though it didn't smell right—nothing looked or sounded or smelled
right—and that was when she finally wasn't willing to take the chance anymore,
after the burp with the stinky taint to it. She sang softly to her baby as she
drove the five miles to where the doctor was waiting. Leaves were dropping,
falling from the sky. A little trip to the doctor's while singing a little song and
afterwards everything would be okay. Nothing to worry about.
A week after the funeral, her gay Pentecostal friend Maxine brought over
a sympathy basket from Harry and David. She brought over flowers and left
them on the porch. On the card that came with the flowers was the image of
a dove with a fig branch in its beak. Inside the card it said, God is faithful.
Put your trust in Him.
Darla ate the food in the gift basket alone at the kitchen table late one night.
She ate the Royal Riveria apples and pears, the cheddar and jack cheeses and
the sausage. She ate the preserves on bread, preserves on crackers, preserves
on lemon cake, preserves on preserves. She ate the Chocolate Moose Munch
caramel popcorn and the honey roasted cashews and peanuts, leaving the
chocolate truffles for the very end, though not because she was saving best
for last or because dessert should be eaten after the main course (or in the
very least after the preserves), but because the package was harder to open,
the package was difficult and she was in a hurry and only after everything
else was gone, when there was nothing left to eat except the reusable basket
and sympathy ribbon, did she take a knife to the box and stab and stab as if
she had to kill it first.
While eating, she traced with a pen the words on the inside of the card—
God is faithful, God is faithful—until it began to read God is faithfoul. It
78