Turtleface and Beyond Read Online Free

bring him there myself.
    â€œWhy would I want to attend some shit like that?” asked Otto, after I told him what I had done.
    â€œIt might be helpful,” I said. “You stay in the house all day long. It isn’t healthy.”
    â€œHealthy? What does that even mean, ‘healthy’?”
    Otto retreated to the corner near Charlotte’s pool, as was his wont. He stared in at her and whispered something I could not understand.
    The next day Otto fashioned a small leash for Charlotte and announced he was taking her outside for walk. At first this idea seemed ridiculous to me, but it turned out regular constitutionals of this sort are recommended for captive snapping turtles and the practice proved to be enjoyable for both Otto and Charlotte. Of course, the walks were anything but brisk, and the two of them together presented an odd spectacle, eliciting even more attention than Otto had when he’d ventured out on his own. But Otto clearly took comfort in Charlotte’s companionship, and I was thankful for the time alone in the apartment. Around town, Otto became known as “Turtleface,” a moniker I did my best to hide from him.
    When the time came for the first support group meeting, Otto put on his coat agreeably, then casually picked up Charlotte and wrapped her in a thin blanket.
    â€œShe’s coming with us,” he said.
    â€œOkay,” I consented. It seemed a small price to pay for progress.
    The meeting was held in a classroom at the local community college. Otto and I walked in late and scanned the room, a semicircle of wheelchair-bound amputees and various examples of disfigurement. One man had a leg swollen up the size of a barrel.
    â€œOh fuck,” said Otto, “would you look at this?”
    â€œYou’re one to talk,” said the man with the swollen leg. “And what’s that, a turtle?”
    Otto covered up Charlotte with his coat, a protective gesture.
    â€œIt’s my turtle,” said Otto. He seemed to think the man wanted to take it from him.
    â€œActually, the turtle belongs to me,” I pointed out. “I was the one who nursed it back to health.”
    â€œWe share custody now,” said Otto.
    â€œWhy don’t you two sit down?” said a small woman named Nadine. She was the facilitator. We sat down and joined the semicircle.
    Although they were in compromised physical shape, the people before us seemed to be a fairly well-adjusted bunch. They told stories and laughed at their wild misfortunes. One woman had been mauled by a chimpanzee at the zoo.
    â€œIt was my own fault, really,” she said, showing us the scars on her neck, back, and shoulders. “Everyone knows how strong a chimp can be when it’s angry.”
    Another man had a mental affliction that compelled him to dump scalding hot liquid on himself whenever he discovered it was within reach. The coffee machine was kept in another room on his account. His face was shiny from all the burns he had suffered, and much of his hair was gone.
    Otto had no sympathy at all for this person. “Well, I can tell you how to solve this problem,” he said. “From now on don’t pour any more hot water on yourself, okay? Just stop doing it.”
    The burned man looked Otto up and down. “Suppose I told you to stop running into turtles,” he replied. “Would that help?”
    Otto pulled Charlotte out of his coat and handed her to me. “Hold her,” he said. “I’m going to kick this guy’s ass.”
    Nadine stood up and expertly talked Otto down. Apparently this sort of confrontation was not uncommon when someone new entered the group.
    â€œYou seem angry,” she told Otto.
    â€œOf course I’m angry,” he said.
    *   *   *
    Afterward, I felt that the support group had done little for Otto, but the next day he told me he had experienced an epiphany overnight.
    â€œI’ve come to the