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Slope
by Rudy Simone He doesn’t like to look me in the eye, but neither does a dog, and everyone loves dogs. When I do catch him, he looks frightened, like I’m about to accuse him of stealing ten dollars from my purse. I don’t know why he seems so guilty, but he does. It was the first bright morning we had in forever, and the cheap champagne for breakfast made me feel a little reckless. Wanna go for a walk? Yeah, sure. Wanna bring the sled? No. I grabbed the sled anyway, and me, Billy and the dog went to the snowy beach by the frozen lake that looked like something you’d see in Antartica, or on acid. The sunlight looked garish on this sinister landscape, like diamonds on a gangster. Tookie pulled so hard on his chain he made that whooping cough sound and I thought one day he’s going to crush his own throat. But he never does. I can understand - if something feels good I’ll do it too, even though it’s strangling me. I look back; Billy‘s walking behind me, always behind, like he doesn’t really want to be there, but I don‘t question it. It was cold but with the sun I was beginning to sweat and it was a long, long walk to the top of the snow-covered dune, and I was feeling the champagne in my legs. I wonder where I’ll stop - I looked down the steep slope…hopefully before the creek I thought. But I didn’t think about it too long, I don’t like to jinx it. I jumped, slipped, almost fell out and flew to the bottom. I squealed like a twelve yr. old girl all the way down the hill, wondering the whole time if something so fun could kill me and did I care anyhow. Only the tip of the stump was sticking up out of the snow. Billy's was the last face I saw. He looked pissed; not one of his better moods. I hope my daughter doesn’t have to see my broken body lying on the snow, head at a most unusual angle. |
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