sofa. As he lay with his head raised on a pillow, I looked into his skewed eyeballs.
“He’s ruined…ruined.”
“No he’s not. I’ll get him fixed. I’ll take him back to where you got him,” Harry said in an apologetic voice.
“What if he can’t be fixed?”
“Oh geez.” Harry dropped his arms to his sides.
Dismayed, I scrutinized Wolf’s anatomy, trying to figure this out. I’d seen Harry lose his temper before, but never resort to violence. Harry’s outburst indicated that I should never again request Wolf’s company in our bed.
As a precaution, I transferred Wolf from the sofa to the entryway closet. While Harry decompressed, I removed the matches from the kitchen and the hacksaw from the toolbox. Harry was no longer trustworthy.
The Rink
For an entire week after the attack that left Wolf cockeyed, I kept him in the closet out of Harry’s sight. Sometimes, when Harry wasn’t around, I would visit Wolf’s dark enclosure and commiserate with him over the injury he’d suffered.
On one such occasion, while Harry was back at the naval base, I happened to nudge against my old high-top roller skates. I lifted one of the skates and a wad of rawhide shoestrings fell out. Getting an idea, I unraveled the strings. Since Harry wouldn’t be home for hours, Wolf and I could go to Skate King, a local roller-skating rink where, owing to the dim lights, Wolf’s imperfections would go unnoticed.
Less than an hour later, I purchased two tickets and filled out two chances to win a new pair of skates that came with an opportunity to stand in as master of ceremonies at next month’s roller derby. I then sat Wolf on a bench, put my own skates on, and tied Wolf’s ankles to mine with the extra set of rawhide strings I’d found tucked in my high tops. The lights dimmed, the disco ball over the rink began turning, and music played from large speakers in the corners. I rose with the soles of Wolf’s painted-on shoes affixed to the tops of my feet. I then took his hands and, holding him face to face, maneuvered him backwards onto the hardwood floor.
In time with the music, we glided along, moving smoothly as we circled around. That night, as often happens at this particular rink, a group of hardcore skaters hit the boards for a workout. From their similar glitzy shirts and helmets that matched their knee and elbow guards, I could tell that they were in the same club. “Oops, pardon me,” I said, trying to get out of their way as they moved in one fluid motion past me.
While I didn’t mind steering the manny around other skaters, hiking his feet up with my own proved awkward. So we started going in small circles around the perimeter of the rink, but I began to get dizzy. I reached out to hold onto the railing, but instead, someone else’s hand grabbed mine. What happened next was all a blur. I knew only that Wolf and I were linked to a human chain, the end of a whip, as they call it. And, as often occurs under these conditions, some smartass cracked the whip and sent Wolf and me flying into a group of kids that appeared to be on skates for the first time. They fell like dominos and drew the presence of their mothers.
“I’m sorry,” I said, getting my balance just as a pudgy man wearing red suspenders, the manager I presumed, showed up and apologized again for Wolf and me.
Wasting no time in restoring the trust of his other patrons, he’d made a display of angrily escorting us out the front door, after I’d collected my shoes and purse. I offered him a few choice expletives of my own when he turned his back on us.
The next morning as I wrapped in a towel prepared to enter the shower, Harry entered the bathroom and stared at my legs.
“Where’d you get the bruises?”
“The bruises,” I repeated, checking my thighs and insteps. “I went shopping. Last night, while you were out. Macy’s down at the Redmond Town Center had a five-hour sale. You know how those crazy bargain hunters
“He’s ruined…ruined.”
“No he’s not. I’ll get him fixed. I’ll take him back to where you got him,” Harry said in an apologetic voice.
“What if he can’t be fixed?”
“Oh geez.” Harry dropped his arms to his sides.
Dismayed, I scrutinized Wolf’s anatomy, trying to figure this out. I’d seen Harry lose his temper before, but never resort to violence. Harry’s outburst indicated that I should never again request Wolf’s company in our bed.
As a precaution, I transferred Wolf from the sofa to the entryway closet. While Harry decompressed, I removed the matches from the kitchen and the hacksaw from the toolbox. Harry was no longer trustworthy.
The Rink
For an entire week after the attack that left Wolf cockeyed, I kept him in the closet out of Harry’s sight. Sometimes, when Harry wasn’t around, I would visit Wolf’s dark enclosure and commiserate with him over the injury he’d suffered.
On one such occasion, while Harry was back at the naval base, I happened to nudge against my old high-top roller skates. I lifted one of the skates and a wad of rawhide shoestrings fell out. Getting an idea, I unraveled the strings. Since Harry wouldn’t be home for hours, Wolf and I could go to Skate King, a local roller-skating rink where, owing to the dim lights, Wolf’s imperfections would go unnoticed.
Less than an hour later, I purchased two tickets and filled out two chances to win a new pair of skates that came with an opportunity to stand in as master of ceremonies at next month’s roller derby. I then sat Wolf on a bench, put my own skates on, and tied Wolf’s ankles to mine with the extra set of rawhide strings I’d found tucked in my high tops. The lights dimmed, the disco ball over the rink began turning, and music played from large speakers in the corners. I rose with the soles of Wolf’s painted-on shoes affixed to the tops of my feet. I then took his hands and, holding him face to face, maneuvered him backwards onto the hardwood floor.
In time with the music, we glided along, moving smoothly as we circled around. That night, as often happens at this particular rink, a group of hardcore skaters hit the boards for a workout. From their similar glitzy shirts and helmets that matched their knee and elbow guards, I could tell that they were in the same club. “Oops, pardon me,” I said, trying to get out of their way as they moved in one fluid motion past me.
While I didn’t mind steering the manny around other skaters, hiking his feet up with my own proved awkward. So we started going in small circles around the perimeter of the rink, but I began to get dizzy. I reached out to hold onto the railing, but instead, someone else’s hand grabbed mine. What happened next was all a blur. I knew only that Wolf and I were linked to a human chain, the end of a whip, as they call it. And, as often occurs under these conditions, some smartass cracked the whip and sent Wolf and me flying into a group of kids that appeared to be on skates for the first time. They fell like dominos and drew the presence of their mothers.
“I’m sorry,” I said, getting my balance just as a pudgy man wearing red suspenders, the manager I presumed, showed up and apologized again for Wolf and me.
Wasting no time in restoring the trust of his other patrons, he’d made a display of angrily escorting us out the front door, after I’d collected my shoes and purse. I offered him a few choice expletives of my own when he turned his back on us.
The next morning as I wrapped in a towel prepared to enter the shower, Harry entered the bathroom and stared at my legs.
“Where’d you get the bruises?”
“The bruises,” I repeated, checking my thighs and insteps. “I went shopping. Last night, while you were out. Macy’s down at the Redmond Town Center had a five-hour sale. You know how those crazy bargain hunters
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