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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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