And then I
thought, Too lateAt these gloves... And then I
thought, Too lateAt these gloves and
the woman who wore themAs for getting even?
"Too late for that, too," I said, and looked at my
stump"I'll never be heaven againAlways the wrong word, and it
would go on like that for-fucking-everI felt
like knocking everything off my stupid goddam
play-tables and onto the floor
"Even," I said, deliberately low and deliberately
slow"I'll never be eeee-ven again
That wasn't very funny (or even very
sensible), but the anger started seeping away just
the sameHearing myself say the right word helped
I turned my thoughts from my stump to my wife's
gloves
With a sigh - there might have been some relief in
it, I don't remember for sure, but it's likely - I
set them on the table where I put my model objects,
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took a brush out of a turp jar,
omega usa cleaned it with a
rag, rinsed it, and looked at the blank canvas
Did I mean to paint the gloves anyway? Why, for
fuck's sake? Why?
All at once the idea that I had been painting at
all seemed ridiculousThe idea that I didn't know
how seemed a hell of a lot more plausibleIf I
dipped this brush in black and then put it on that
forbidding white-space, surely the best I'd be
able to do would be a series of marching stick
figures: Ten little Indians went out to dine, One
drowned her baby self, Then there were nineNine
little Indians, Stayed up very late -
That was spookyI got up from my chair, and fast
Suddenly I didn't want to be here, not in Little
Pink, not in Big Pink, not on Duma Key, not in my
stupid pointless limping retired retarded life
How many lies was I telling? That I was an
cheap chanel purses artist?
RidiculousKamen could cry STUNNED and YOU MUST
NOT STOP in his patented e-mail capitals, but
Kamen specialized in tricking the victims of
terrible accidents into believing the pallid
imitations of life they were living were as good
as the real thingWhen it came to positive
203
reinforcement, Kamen and Kathi Green the Rehab
Queen were a tag-steamThey were FUCKING
BRILLIANT, and most of their grateful patients
cried YOU MUST NOT STOPWas I telling myself I
was psychic? Possessed of a phantom arm capable of
seeing into the unknown? That wasn't ridiculous,
it was pitiful and insane
There was a 7-Eleven in NokomisI decided I would
try my driving skills, pick up a couple of sixpacks,
and get drunkThings might look better
tomorrow, through the haze of a hangoverI did
not see how they could look much
omega de ville men's watches worseI reached
for my crutch and my foot - my left one, my good
foot, for Christ's sake - caught under my chairMy right leg wasn't strong enough to
hold me up and I fell full-length, reaching out
with my right arm to break my fall
Just instinct, of courseexcept it did break my
fallI didn't see it - my eyes were
squeezed shut, the way you squeeze them when you
know you're going to take one for the team - but
if I hadn't broken my fall, I would almost
certainly have done myself significant damage,
204
carpet or no carpetI could have sprained my neck,
or even broken it
I lay there a moment, confirming to myself that I
was still alive, then got to my knees, my hip
aching fiercely, holding my throbbing right arm up
in front of my eyesThere was no arm thereI set
my chair up on its legs, leaned on
prada clutch it with my left
forearmthen darted my head forward and bit my
right arm
I felt the crescents of my teeth sink in just
below the elbowI felt the flesh of my forearm
against my lipsThen I drew back, panting"Jesus!
Jesus! What's happening? What is this?"
I almost expected to see the arm swirl into
existenceIt didn't, but it was there, all right
I reached across the seat of my chair for one of
my brushesI could feel my fingers grasp it, but
the brush didn't moveI thought: So this is what
it's like to be a ghost
I scrambled into the chairMy hip was snarling,
but that pain seemed to be happening far downriver
With my left hand I snatched up the brush I'd
cleaned and put it behind my left earCleaned
205
another and put it in the gutter of the easel
Cleaned a third and put that in the gutter,
louis vuitton backpacks as
wel