“Oh, it’s just silly,” she said, and threw it in the fire, where it burned sluggishly. No one attempted to retrieve it.
“God, isn’t it late, where are my parents?” Abby said, yawning. “I want to go to bed.”
June sat with them all a little while longer before going to her room. She lay on her bed discouraged, uncomfortably, listlessly awake. She heard a wailing from far away, but when she listened closely she could not hear it. She listened avidly now. Nothing. She could not recall the cadence of the drums. She had lied to James about that. But she could picture the anda being borne down the streets. That she would remember. It was fascinating to have seen the designs so meticulously created and then the anda passing, being borne on, swaying, and in its wake the designs smeared, crushed, a scattered wonder. And that part, after, had been fascinating too.
But she didn’t really believe it was fascinating. It wasn’t good to deceive yourself. She thought about Howard, hating him, and his cold grin. He was fleshy, did he not know that? Fleshier than most. He was not attractive. That was a lie, what Howard had done. It could hardly be anything else. She thought of the mannequins praying in their cell. A lie, too, but one that was funny. Things had to be funny.
In the morning, Caroline’s dog was gone again. The rope had been knotted any number of times; it was always breaking. And when it broke, the dog would escape from the courtyard and, barking with joy, run through the streets. Caroline said that when it disappeared for good, it would be time to go. She had heard somewhere that angels tell you when it’s time to leave a place by leaving just before you. June thought she had heard that too. Something like that.