“You don’t know?” the man snorted. “That’s rich. Well I do — probably because I’m the rabbit.” “What?” “I mean, the rabbit Alice went after was no ordinary bunny. It was the Queen’s butler — her servant. Right? But, before Alice fell down the hole, it really was just a bunny. I’m sure the English countryside is positively hopping with them! You see what I mean? Before the hole, Alice was just an ordinary girl with a bit of a wild streak. But once she’s down there, it’s a different story altogether. Now the rabbit’s a real character, a working stiff with his own personality. Well, maybe he’s more middle management than anything else. He dresses like he has a pretty high station in life. I’m talking about the illustrations. In other words, this run-of-the-mill tomboy gets lost in her own fantasies — some big adventure, right? For you, that makes me the rabbit after the fall.” I couldn’t make sense of anything he was saying. Without waiting to see if I understood, he forged ahead. “Then again, that’s not your story, is it? Yours is no grand adventure. That was no rabbit you went after. It was just this guy,” the man said, pointing at the hole. The hand that had been in the wall — the one that he’d been using to play with the child next door — was now as pale as the other. “It’s just some stupid animal. Would it make you feel better if we gave him a name? I never thought he needed one, honestly. But now that there are two of us, I guess it’d be convenient if we could call him something, seeing as you want to talk and all. Using the Internet, looking things up. Why bother? We can name him ourselves. Then again, if you ask me, there’s a whole lot of things to talk about before that. After all, we’re a couple of grown-ups, aren’t we? You’re not the shrimp next door. Darn! Apologies there! You’re a man! A man among men! Anyway, where were we? Right, right. Names. What’ll it be?”
“Me?” “Yeah, you. You’re the one who fell into that hole. What would you have done if you got stuck in there? Lived together happily ever after?” The whites of his eyes were terribly white. “I don’t know what to . . .” “It’s just a name! What’s yours?” I hesitated for a second. “It’s Asahi.” “Asahi, eh? Sounds like a cigarette brand from years and years ago. Great! So it’s settled. We’ll call him Asahi.” “What?” “Just kidding. It’s a joke. Anyway, you come up with the name. That’ll be your homework. If you can’t come up with something good, I’ll throw you in the hole, put the lid on, then cover it with a concrete block! Sorry, another joke. Did I scare you? Hey, I’m scared, too. It’s been ages since I’ve talked with somebody who wasn’t a kid.” “You mean not even Muneaki-san or your mother — not ever?” “That’s exactly what I mean. Didn’t I just say that? We don’t talk, but I can hear her all the time. The kitchen vent lets out right here. She’s always calling you Asa, so I had no idea what your actual name was. For all I knew, it could have been Asako or Asami. I never heard anyone answer, either, so I figured maybe you couldn’t talk, but that’s not the case, is it? By the way, Mom’s really put on some weight recently, hasn’t she? I can see her clothes when she has the laundry out, and it looks like she’s aiming to make it as a yokozuna, doesn’t it?”
But wait — what was he eating every day? Where did he get his clothes and shoes? What was he doing for money? I wanted to ask, but couldn’t. Then the man clapped his hands together a couple of times. “Alright, let’s go. Down to the river. To the hole. I’ll be your guide, as a sign of our new friendship. It’s really a nice place, this river of ours. Besides, I want to see where you fell in. If it’s dangerous, we should probably fill it in. What if one of the kids fell in? They’d never make it back out. Oh wait! Let me wash my face first.” The man walked over to the sink outside the shack, wet his hands, then rubbed his face a few times. When he was done, he wiped his face with what looked to be a cloth hanging next to the sink. “‘Wash your face three times a day,’ right? Don’t want to get sticky. This is well water. It’s pumped up here. Nice and cold. Tastes good, too. It failed the safety inspection, but I’m the only one drinking it, so who cares? I wasn’t planning on living very long anyway. You’d better steer clear of it. Unless you wanna sip? Hahaha. Why would you, right? You can get anything you want from the store. And you’ve got drinkable water on tap. Okay, all set — shall we? Which way to the hole?” “By the river, on the way to the store.” As soon as I said it, he sprang in that direction, not wasting any time. I did my best to keep up. I looked over at the Seras’ house. The curtains were drawn. “I bet it wasn’t easy for you to climb out of that hole. Was it deep? The deeper the hole, the cooler it is. Warmer in the winter, too. You should see him when he’s digging. It’s a real show, dirt flying all over the place. You lucked out. Some holes are so deep that they’d be the end of you.” “So how does the animal get out?” “Well, it looks a bit funny, but he spirals up, butt first, shimmying up with his feet on one side and back against the other . . . Wait, is that what you did?” I shook my head.
We followed the walkway to the garden out front, where Grandpa was still watering. He looked at us and opened his mouth. I was sure he was looking at the man, not me. He didn’t say anything. His eyes were covered in shadow, but he wasn’t making the usual smile. The hose went slack in his hand, water pouring at his boots. The man lifted a hand at Grandpa, who appeared to shake the tip of the hose in response. I guess this means they have to be related. He has to be my husband’s brother. Was I supposed to ask Grandpa not to say anything about us being together? What if he said something to Tomiko? Unfazed by my hesitation, my brother-in-law started speaking. “Listen to those cicadas. They’re a real earful this year, aren’t they?” The second he said it, as if on cue, brown cicadas started roaring all around us. “Inside my shed, I can hear it all. All the sound. I almost feel like I’m becoming one of them.” My brother-in-law strode toward the gate. I watched Grandpa standing there, hose pointed downward. He almost looked like a shadow. “How about it, bride? They’re pretty loud, aren’t they?” “They are. I thought maybe they were like this every year around here . . .” My brother-in-law snorted. “Hah. Cause we’re out in the middle of nowhere? Haha. This is a special summer for them, believe me.” I regretted not bringing a hat, maybe even a parasol. I looked up and down the street, at all the houses and windows. I didn’t see anyone around. It was almost as if there were some rule against walking outside when the sun was up. Maybe there really was — how would I know? Maybe no one actually lives here. Just me, my brother-in-law, Grandpa, and the cicadas. “He doesn’t get along with most folks. Far as I know, he doesn’t get along with anybody. I don’t even know how he wound up living here. He’s a real lone wolf. Not that he’s a real wolf.” At moments, the cicadas overpowered him and I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I felt like I got the gist.
“Why doesn’t animal control do something?” “Animal control?” My brother-in-law looked at me, his eyes wide. “What would they do?” “Well, get rid of it . . .” “Why would they do that? He’s not doing anyone any real harm.” I asked myself why digging holes in the ground that people can’t climb out of doesn’t qualify as “real harm,” but before I could say anything my brother-in-law spat on the ground and said, “Animal control ought to be more worried about the stray cats. There’s a whole bunch of them hanging around the house, treating the garden like it’s their own personal litter box. A couple of years ago, one of these cats had the nerve to give birth in our garage, then ran off and left the kittens behind. Can you believe it? Then the crows showed up, looking for an easy lunch. I had to stand out there and shoo them away. For a whole day. The mama cat never even came back. But what kind of parent does that? How irresponsible can you be? Now I chase the cats off whenever I see them. I’m sure I’d just look crazy to anyone who saw me, but those things bring nothing but grief.”