Chapter 4: Cracked Porcelain

Toni's son kept his voice low, though the three of us were alone.

"Yeah," I said. "It's me."

He turned back to the television.

Grayson was still holding our Christmas picture.

"That guy looks like he irons his socks," he said.

Toni barked a laugh.

I had watched Grayson iron socks before a donor dinner.

"You won't tell anybody I'm here?" I asked.

"Mom would kill me."

"I would not," Toni said. "I'd make you scrub your own bathroom."

He winced.

"See? Worse."

On Tuesday night, the rink filled with the Rollers again.

I wore the loaner skates and my newly crooked haircut.

Toni had tried to fix it, then declared the helmet would hide the evidence.

The first hour was falls and stops.

I fell less than I had on Wednesday, though I still caught the rail twice.

One skater showed me how to turn my toes in without locking my knees.

Another skated backward beside me and made faces whenever I looked down.

I didn't know either woman's name.

I knew which one wore purple wheels and which one laughed through her mouthguard.

At the water break, voices sharpened in the locker room.

A phone sat in the middle of the bench.

On its screen was the billboard meme.

My mother's smiling face hovered above mine on the bathroom floor.

Somebody had added a second red arrow to my bare leg.

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