Garbage floated past, more slowly than the boat, at the river’s own pace. I tried to make out the contents: a coil of rope, wound up into a large tangle, and inside it a semidecomposed cigarette package, a whiskey bottle with the cap still on. It imprinted itself into me, like a stamp in my consciousness, this image of the coil of rope, the tangle, the decomposing cigarette package, the whiskey bottle, traveling past in what once had been clean water. And me on the bridge alone. The only way it could be.

I stood there until my teeth were chattering, till the cold rawness of the Thames had settled into every fiber of my body. Only then did I go back and let myself be surrounded by brick, walking as fast as I could to get warm, until I could feel the fired clay penetrating my body.

Even the next morning, within the white walls of the clinic, I could sense the red brick, as if I could taste it, chew the dust of it between my teeth, as if it were the brick that was making me feel nauseous. It was the last sensation I had before I fell asleep and the first when I woke up afterward, and it was still there when I came home. I could feel the dust between my teeth while I told Magnus what I had done. I could still feel the nausea when he was yelling at me, when he was crying, sobbing, telling me how much he had wanted that child, our child, telling me he could never forgive me, telling me it was his child too. And also afterward it was there, when I lay curled up in bed in my room, as burning sobs pushed their way out, tearing at my body. I tried to cry more quietly, softly, muffle my sobs, so I would hear if he knocked on the door if he came back. Because I remember that I wanted him to come back, even though I didn’t regret my decision, even though I was furious. I just couldn’t fathom that it would end this way.

But he never came. Or maybe I didn’t cry quietly enough.

Chapter Thirty-Two: David

Chapter Thirty-Two

David

It was morning. I was sitting in the cockpit, in the shade of the awning we’d hung over the boom.

I was so tired. So tired all the time. I didn’t sleep well, listening all the time for the sound of raindrops. The sound of rain.

I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, even though it was still early. I would have to get to work soon. But I was unable to move.

Lou made up our beds in the saloon and sang in a high voice, “Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, dormez-vous, dormez-vous?” Anna used to sing this song at her bedside.

I was hungry even though we had just eaten.