I had a chat with Chris and George about Cathy. I told them that since she would be fifteen I felt she was old enough to have a horse of her own. They agreed so I made arrangements with a friend of mine to have her come by and pick out the horse for her to have. We had plenty of stalls in the barn so space would not be a problem. I told them that I wanted to reward George for all of his hard work for me by letting him and Chris pick out horses for themselves, also. George tried to balk but I. I was small, quiet and without haste. Around me, were many little people, running with books stacked to their noses. Each one trying to find purpose, creating their own little thunders, as the floors would shake under their waltz. My waltz was demented. Torn from left and shoved to right, without balance, without strength. So you remember at times like these, the clichéd line, my father will be watching over me. At first a comfort, until you realize that his eyes are dead too. How can an angel. Each time Jill and I were back together I could lose myself in our time together and love-making. Much of each weekend spent in bed. Making love, holding each other and talking. But each weekend seemed to go so quickly, with Jill having to leave almost as soon as she got home.My other anchor-point was the daily calls I received. Calls which continued to be split nearly fifty-fifty between the calls Jill knew about and started, and the calls she didn’t know about when Chris fired up FaceTime. The underground arena, which had been completely empty when I had last seen it four hours before, was now completely packed, just as it had been a month before. And just like a month before, the wrestlers were escorted down to the mat by the priests, heads straight forward, backs upright, and not a stitch of clothing on.When we got to the center, Wendell yelled, "Enter the ring!" and as we did just that, we yelled, "Praise to the Great Master!" Then Wendell took his shiny knife and we each.
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