Turtleface and Beyond Read Online Free Page B

landed sideways and spun about, bewildered at her new surroundings. She paddled up to the surface and poked her hooked snout into the air. She stayed there for a moment, floating, that sealed-up scar still visible on her bumpy shell. I imagined the other turtles would wonder at it, and perhaps she’d tell them of the strange land she had visited and the weird behavior of her caretakers. Readjusted now, Charlotte sank down below the surface, swiftly paddling her sturdy legs, and disappeared into the murk and sway.
    I turned my attention now to finding Tom and Otto. I thought I might climb the cliff to get a better vantage point. From there I could call out for them and see the lay of the land. I fastened the canoe to a nearby tree and began to climb up the sandy slope, just like I should have done earlier that summer when I had meekly watched Otto from below. Stopping several times to catch my breath, I eventually ascended even higher than Otto had, until my feet were scratched and sore and my chest heaved from the exertion. I stood there gazing down at the ribbon of river beneath me and tried to steady my breathing.
    I called out, “Hey, Tom! Otto! Tom! Otto!”
    But no one could hear me. The river down there was just a whisper. I pictured Otto standing near this spot, trying to discern the directions I had called out to him. It wasn’t my fault. It had all been his decision, of course. I could see that plainly.
    Far below me I saw Sheila emerge from the tent, stretch her arms, and gaze about. She was stark-naked, a female beauty in the wild. I felt like a god, or a ghost, peering down upon her, unseen at this great height.
    And I thought I might do something daring then, something a little spectacular, and unexpected. I launched myself forward. One, two, three, four, five … giant long jumps down the mountainside. I cleared thirty, forty feet per stride! I was a monster, a freak of nature, hurtling toward the water.
    â€œHey, Sheila!” I called out, glancing her way, trying not to land on my face as I careened down the cliffside.
    She looked about her, startled.
    â€œI’m over here!” I shouted. I was nearing the bottom now, carrying impossible speed. I leaped out, shooting into the water, sleek like a dolphin, waiting for the pain.
    A crashing noise filled my ears and then coldness walloped me from all sides. Fuck, the water was so cold. A sharp, aching pain shot up my genitals and I struggled to the surface, gasping for air. The current carried me downriver and I kicked a rock hard with my foot. I sputtered to the shoreline and flopped myself into the canoe, wheezing, unable to fill my lungs with enough oxygen. My big toe had been cut open by the rock when I’d kicked it and now it started to hurt, and bleed. I’d cracked the toenail and my head ached as well.
    I heard a voice, Sheila, calling out to me. “Georgie! Georgie! Are you all right?”
    â€œI’m okay,” I said, holding up my hand, waving it above the gunwale so that she could see it. “I’m all right.”
    A moment passed during which I imagined Sheila standing there, still naked on the shoreline, worrying about me. I wondered if she’d even seen my great feat, that perfect running dive into the cold water. Again, I raised my hand up, and again I said, “I’m all right. I’m fine.”
    â€œI’ll make us breakfast,” called out Sheila. “Vegetarian sausage and eggs.”
    â€œThank you,” I called back. “I’d like that.”
    I stayed down there, lying on the canoe floor, not wanting her to see me just yet. I lay back on the bottom of that canoe and I listened to the water flowing underneath me and I began to feel very good indeed.

 
    COLD FEET
    Â 
    Earlier that year, before the winter set in, I moved into a large farmhouse outside the northern town of Burlington, Vermont. It was a community living arrangement and my housemates were