This is the Way the World Ends by James Morrow Read Free Book Online Page B

dead.’
    ‘What does it say on their headstones?’
    ‘Nothing. Names and dates. I’m a Unitarian.’
    ‘What should it say?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Let’s begin with your mother.’
    ‘Huh?’
    ‘Your mother. What was she like?’
    ‘You want me to tell you about my mother?’
    ‘Please.’
    ‘My mother,’ George began. ‘Well . . . certainly my mother should have been happier. She was always running herself down, always trumpeting her faults – kind of an inverse boaster, I guess. She had diabetes, but I think it was the high standards that killed her.’ Had he been storing up these ideas, waiting for Mrs Covington’s questions? ‘I loved her very much. She was better than she knew, and—’
    ‘ “Better than she knew,” ’ Nadine intoned. ‘There, you’ve done it – that fits my mother exactly! “She was better than she knew.” I love it.’
    ‘For an epitaph? ’
    ‘Let’s discuss your father.’
    ‘A simpler person than my mother. Very likely he was the most unselfish man on earth.’
    ‘Tell me more.’
    ‘I think of him as always smiling. He smiled even when he was unhappy. They should have paid him a lot of money for being so nice. His job was pointless. He never found out what he was doing here. His car didn’t run right.’
    ‘ “Never found out what he was doing here . . .’ My, my, that’s quite perfect – Dad is just like that. Your epitaph-writing talents are extraordinary, young man. You’ve earned that suit twice over. So, how much for the finished stone?’
    ‘Seven hundred and fifty dollars plus tax. We usually ask for half-payment down and the balance when your monument is ready.’
    Nadine opened her handbag and drew out a roll of withered bills. ‘I don’t want change,’ she said, depositing nine hundred dollars in George’s palm. She squeezed his hand. Her skin was vital and warm, not at all the clammy membrane of a ghost. ‘And I don’t want a sales contract, either. We must trust each other.’
    ‘Come back on Monday and you can approve the pencil draft. We should select a lettering style now, though.’ I do trust her, George thought.
    ‘Any style you like will be fine. It’s the message that must be right. At the top, simply, “She was better than she knew.” ’
    ‘No name?’
    ‘I’ll know who’s buried there. At the bottom, “He never found out—” ’
    ‘ “He never found out what he was doing here.” ’
    ‘Precisely.’
    ‘What about dates?’
    ‘We needn’t trouble ourselves with dates.’
    From her handbag Nadine produced a large, tattered map, unfolding it atop Grace Loquatch’s stone. George recognized the waterfront district of Boston – full color, fine detail, all the key buildings illustrated in overhead views. The paper was disintegrating along the creases. Entire warehouses had fallen into the holes.
    ‘This particular scopas suit store isn’t easy to find,’ she said. ‘And today your average cartographer doesn’t even bother with some of these little streets.’ She pointed to a vacant space on Moonburn Alley. ‘Here’s your destination – Theophilus Carter’s establishment, the Mad Tea Party he calls it. I’ll tell him to expect you this Saturday. Professor Carter is a tailor, a hatter, a furrier . . . an inventor. He makes extraordinary things for human bodies.’
    She started to leave, paused, and scurried up to George, kissing him softly on the cheek. ‘I’m so pleased you’re the way you are,’ she whispered. ‘It was lovely talking with you.’
    ‘I enjoyed it too, ma’am, most assuredly.’
    ‘Fare thee well, George.’
    ‘Good-bye.’
    On her way out of the shop, Nadine hesitated by the South African monument. ‘She was better than she knew,’ she mumbled, evidently projecting the words onto the granite. When the black gleam caught her eyes, George was certain he saw tears.

CHAPTER FOUR
In Which Our Hero Is Asked to Sign a Most Unusual Sales Contract
    Saturday. The big day. George