“Yeah. I don’t think the Dutch Tulip Man is a con man, but he’s also not rich like he leads them to believe.
And I think after Anna dies, Anna’s mom goes to Holland with him and thinks they will live there forever,
but it doesn’t work out, because she wants to be near where her daughter was.”
I hadn’t realized he’d thought about the book so much, that An Imperial Affliction mattered to Gus independently of me mattering to him.
The water lapped quietly at the stone canal walls beneath us; a group of friends biked past in a clump,
shouting over each other in rapid-fire, guttural Dutch; the tiny boats, not much longer than me, half drowned in the canal;
the smell of water that had stood too still for too long; his arm pulling me in; his real leg against my real leg all the way from hip to foot.
I leaned in to his body a little. He winced. “Sorry, you okay?” He breathed out a yeah in obvious pain.
“Sorry,” I said. “Bony shoulder.” “It’s okay,” he said. “Nice, actually.”
We sat there for a long time. Eventually his hand abandoned my shoulder and rested against the back of the park bench.
Mostly we just stared into the canal. I was thinking a lot about how they’d made this place exist even though it should’ve been underwater,
and how I was for Dr. Maria a kind of Amsterdam, a half-drowned anomaly, and that made me think about dying.
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