I would not be going to Amsterdam unless and until there was medical agreement that it would be safe.
Augustus called that night after dinner. I was already in bed—after dinner had become my bedtime for the moment—
propped up with a gajillion pillows and also Bluie, with my computer on my lap.
I picked up, saying, “Bad news,” and he said, “Shit, what?”
“I can’t go to Amsterdam. One of my doctors thinks it’s a bad idea.”
He was quiet for a second. “God,” he said. “I should’ve just paid for it myself. Should’ve just taken you straight from the Funky Bones to Amsterdam.”
“But then I would’ve had a probably fatal episode of deoxygenation in Amsterdam,
and my body would have been shipped home in the cargo hold of an airplane,” I said.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “But before that, my grand romantic gesture would have totally gotten me laid.”
I laughed pretty hard, hard enough that I felt where the chest tube had been.
“You laugh because it’s true,” he said. I laughed again. “It’s true, isn’t it!”
“Probably not,” I said, and then after a moment added, “although you never know.”
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색