DO YOU KNOW WHAT DEAD SKIN LOOKS LIKE WHEN they take

off a cast?

That was my life, all that dead skin.

It was strange to feel like the Ari I used to be. Except that wasn’t totally true. The Ari I used to be didn’t exist anymore.

And the Ari I was becoming? He didn’t exist yet. I came home and took a walk.

I found myself staring at the spot where I’d seen Dante holding the bird. I don’t know why I was there.

I found myself walking in front of Dante’s house.

There was a dog across the street at the park staring at me. I stared back.

He plopped himself on the grass.

I walked across the street and the dog didn’t move. He just wagged his tail. That made me smile. I sat down on the grass next to him and took off my shoes. The dog scooted himself up to me and put his head on my lap.

I just sat there and petted him. I noticed he didn’t have a collar. After studying him some more, I discovered that he was a she.

“What’s your name?”

People talk to dogs. Not that they understand. But maybe they understand enough. I thought of Dante’s last letter. I’d had to look up the word inane. I got up and walked to the library, which was at the edge of the park.

I found an art book that had a picture of the “Raft of the Medusa.”

I went home: Ari, the boy who could walk again without the help of crutches. I wanted to tell Dante that his math had been a little off. I got them off today, Dante. Today.

On my walk home, I thought about the accident and Dante and my brother and I wondered if he knew how to swim. I thought about my dad and how he never talked about Vietnam. Even though he had a picture with some of his war buddies hanging on the living room wall, he never talked about that picture or the names of his friends. I asked him once and it was as if he hadn’t heard the question. I never asked again. Maybe the problem between me and my father was that we were both the same.

When I got home, I noticed the dog had followed me. I sat on the steps of the front porch and she laid down on the sidewalk looking up at me.

My dad came out. “Getting your legs back?” “Yeah,” I said.

He looked at the dog.

“She followed me home from the park.” “Are you interested in him?”

“It’s a she.”

We were both smiling.

“And yeah,” I said. “I’m very interested.” “Remember Charlie?”

“Yeah. I loved that dog.” “Me too.”

“I cried when she died.”

“Me too, Ari.” We looked at each other. “Seems like a nice dog. No collar?”

“No collar, Dad. Beautiful.”

“Beautiful, Ari.” He laughed. “Your mother doesn’t like dogs in the house.”