Vivi finished her drink. The bar had emptied save for the sea creatures. Krithi the elephant activist and Edith had long since gone. A seal at the back table kept glancing their way. Vivi nodded.

“You know everyone around here?” Alfonzo asked.

“You want to leave? I bet you’re exhausted.”

“But what happened on the boat?”

Vivi ignored the question, and a chest-jumping hiccup robbed Alfonzo of the ability to push dignity. Vivi pulled on her poncho and headed for the door.

26.

Alfonzo realized how drunk he was only when he staggered onto his legs. Vivi seemed sober, though he thought they’d consumed the same amount. He swayed out of the Red Clover behind her. He tried to focus. It was pouring rain. He sensed Vivi waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t heard her ask.

“Hum?”

“I said, is that all you brought?”

It was. In his rush from Gowanus, he hadn’t thought about the weather, which he now realized had been a mistake. One should always pay attention to the weather and the seasons, the nuances of water and wind. He was an animal in the world, but he was caught, as usual, thinking too much about all the wrong things.

Vivi’s mouth was moving and she was nodding her head. He pantomimed deafness. He took deep breaths as the wet wind smacked him. Wake up, alpaca.

Vivi pulled a plastic poncho from her bag and put it over his head. He struggled inside the folds. He felt as though he were beneath a tent. The plastic amplified the rain into a cacophonous, crinkling roar.

Vivi was moving now. There were few lights. Alfonzo had to concentrate not to lose her up ahead.

She stopped so that he could catch up.

“Can we take a cab?”

Vivi just laughed. The streets were deserted. Post-apocalypse empty.

“Fonzo, dear, stay calm.”

“But what if I get lost?”

“Stop worrying—rain won’t kill you.”

“I’m melting!”

“Just shut up, sweetheart.”

He giggled.

“We’re not far, and when we get home I have your bed all set up.”

The rain, already torrential, intensified. Little rivulets ran through his wool. Vivi kept her shoulder pressed to his. He felt they were going toward the sea, through the sea. Alfonzo retreated into memory. He began to babble.

“This makes me think of this myth I read about sky animals. They were constellations who chased one another through the waters of heaven. I remember loving that phrase waters of heaven. You know that one?”

He didn’t expect Vivi to respond. She was just a shape pushing him along. Fatigue, travel, and fermentation beat at his organs. Talking steadied him.