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Show Motherlunge a novel and again the distance we had left to go-one-quarter, one-eighth, one-sixteenth-for Pavia was always good at math, and she knew that I was in pain. And finally, defying calculation, we did arrive. Outside Pavia's townhouse, a Great Dane was standing up with his wide brown paws hooked over the top of the wrought-iron fence. In the words of Anonymous, it was an incredible day!-Pavia all at once asking of me: how was Dad, how was Mom, how was-what's his name?- Adam?-as we dragged our mother's ugly yellow suitcase to the gate. It was there, in a scene reminiscent of the docks and railroad platforms, with a plastic bag waving from the bus stop sign and maple seeds unscrewing in the air all around us, that I was introduced to Pavia's guard dog, General. I had my arm around my sister, who suddenly was talking like a child. "General?" Pavia whined, stooping down and covering her kneecaps with her hands, "General? Say hello to Thea." Pavia pulled her hand along his bony back. I held out my left wrist, but General pushed it away with a vigorous thrust of his two wet nostrils, and sunk his nose into my crotch. And then I was really laughing-weak-kneed I reached for my sister, to steady myself-but she was apologizing, while General nodded his head up and down. |