Something which would have ordinarily remained undone.
But.
But Kitty wanted to get married, and Minna was growing up, and New York was not a winter festival, and he who turns and runs away lives to run another day. And when it is January in New York it is July in Modonoland. Or, more accurately, when it is January in New York it is also January in Modonoland, since they use the same calendar we do, but January in Modonoland is a far cry from January in New York, Modonoland being in the Southern Hemisphere and their summer occurring during our winter, all of which is childishly simple to understand and maturely difficult to explain.
So I went there.
So they buried me.
Chapter 3
“Evan? Are you all right?”
“No.”
“It’s raining.”
“It certainly is.”
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Because for a moment I was talking to you and you didn’t answer me.”
“I was thinking about something.”
“Oh. Are you all right?”
She was evidently going to keep on asking until I said yes. So I said yes. And as I did so, the water stopped dripping through the tube. But it was still raining. I could hear it. I put my lips to the tube and sipped air.
“It’s still raining,” I said.
“It’s pouring.”
“But the water’s not coming through the tube.”
“I’m sort of hunched over it, Evan.”
“Oh.”
“Is that bad?”
“No,” I said. “Don’t move. Or I’ll drown.”
“Oh.”
“I may drown anyway. There’s a certain amount of seepage going on in here. I don’t know who manufactured this casket, but the quality control isn’t all it should be. Plum?”