Stephanie is on edge. That's the long and the short of it. How is this thing going to end? First one way, then the other, teetering. Teetering, seesawing, teetering.
Everything is on the line. (A matter of opinion, obviously.)
Steph can barely catch her breath she's so caught up in the drama, the struggle against perhaps impossible odds, the straining at the bit, the urging of things forward and the long, long distance yet to be surmounted.
Her heart is pounding. She kind of has to pee.
Our protagonist is definitely what we'd have to call a “risk taker,” but willingness to “chance it” doesn't necessarily imbue one with fearlessness. One can be a daredevil and still be scared as hell while balancing on one foot at the edge of a cliff. (Warrior 3 pose above a yawning chasm.) The fear fully fuels the thrill.
In actuality, if you don't understand that something is excessively dangerous, you aren't doing a daring dance with the devil1 when you go over Niagara in a barrel, say—as so many of us have been drawn to do. You're just plain stupid.
I know that sounds a little harsh, but it's a pulled punch that blows no one any good, as is observed in the “ill wind” aphorism. I'd guess the person not punched would be first to affirm that notion. But pulling verbal punches, that is to say honest and accurate and sincere verbal punches, leaves the target uninformed. Not a good way to be. Not at all.
Steph, by the by, is not stupid. But boy is she on edge. Butterflies in her tummy. Pearls of sweat on her forehead. Teeth clenched. “Come on TopShellf! Come on!”
Her boyfriend, Wicker, wishes her well but is clear enough about who he is (a good trait in a supporting role) that he avoids this kind of competition entirely. Neither a risk-taker, nor a biter of knuckles, he's content to hear about it later, when all is said and done. Over and out.
Leonard Wicker, we here note, has one of those family names that suggests an occupational origin as noted for Stringfellow back on page 120 [in the print edition]. Does Lenny hail from a long line of candlemakers? Or did they fashion baskets and chairs from pliable plant materials? Wicker-ware creation is an honored and ancient undertaking.
I fear all that's lost in the gloomy recesses of time, though the gloom might suggest that it wasn't candles. (Whether a person can weave wicker amidst the gloaming would be an interesting subject to pursue when you're finished with all that other stuff on your plate.)
Wick is a good listener (another fine trait in a supporting role) and no surprise. He teaches the art of conversation in TED® talks and seminars, helping folks connect. Listening, he'd tell you, is the biggest and sometimes the hardest trick.
It 's all too easy to fall into the mental sand trap of teeing up2 one's own reply before fully receiving what one's opposite is saying and then to, essentially, talk past the other. It can end up more like a debate than a heart-to-heart. Verbal ships in the night.
Naturally enough, this “good listener” status is part of what drew Steph to him in the first place. We all like to be listened to, at least from time to time, and he listened a lot right off. Moreover, he was gently honest, softening punches but not entirely pulling them.
She'd tell him about one of her deep worries, something like, “I'm afraid I'll end up like Mom.” Followed by, “Am I crazy?”
Wick would smile his winning smile and answer, “Yeah. But not in a bad way.” Then laugh lovingly and squeeze her hand.
You can see right off how that would draw her closer. Them closer, I mean. This goes both ways.
She'd come home from shopping and fret, “I think I paid too much for these shoes. Am I crazy?”
Etc.
But there isn't a whole lot of risk-taking involved in speculation about how much one might emulate a parent or overpay for footwear. The first is obviously conjectural (if likely) and the latter, well, we all pay too much for consumer goods in late-stage capitalism, and value is ultimately in the eye and wallet of the beholder. While $75 for a pair of flats that cost $4 to manufacture may be a stretch, they were on sale!
As for Wick, one of the reasons he's an even better listener to his girlfriend than he would be as an impartial observer and teacher of conversational skills is that he is positively thrilled by her risk-taking. He gets to partake by osmosis, garnering some second-hand excitement with none of the risk, which suits his personality type just fine, thank you.
She gets tossed around in a mosh pit, and he can almost feel the lofting hands. She goes screaming down a mountain in a bobsled or on skis, and he gets an amazing rush just sitting there drinking cocoa as she recounts the scene. She is strapped to a spinning wheel while a stunt performer hurls knives, and he gets a fairly heightened sense of danger, a threat to mortality, a dizzy twirling as she describes the razor sharp blades thudding into the wooden circle between and around her body and limbs.
Actually, I made that last one up. As I said before, she isn't stupid. She takes reasonable risks in doing things that are fun, and those assistants tied to the spinning wheels? It would stagger the imagination to think they are having fun—except, perhaps when they cash their paychecks.3
So Steph jay-walks, hangs upside down from hotel balconies and hang glides, rock climbs, spelunks and cave dives, acts on dares and otherwise courts fate. But we've never seen her as totally gripped by angst as in these very moments, have we?
“You can do it!” she mutters through clenched chompers.
Doubtless you're wondering two things at this point:
1) How does she have time for Wick in amongst all this excitement?
2) How can she afford what looks to be a fairly expensive list of hobbies?
The second is easy. Trustafarian. Her folks are loaded. Old money, which seems to be the only kind of big money around in these days in which workers' wages have stagnated, as measured in constant dollars, since about 1980, and profits have flowed to the top. Her family isn't in the 1% but they're easily in the top five.
Not having to work affords her more time than might be apparent at first blush to devote to her relationship with Wick.
We should note here that she is a generous friend, and the fact that he's able to run around doing TED® talks and seminars on how to successfully chat-up people (or is it chat people up?) is principally due to the fact that he doesn't need to earn a living either.
Again, Wick is self-aware enough to appreciate that he's not actually “making it on his own.” Yet he is arguably doing some good in the world, augmenting communication, and if Steph's enabling him in that pursuit, more power to both of them.
Nor is Steph all-play-and-no-work. She volunteers two days a week at the local animal shelter, and not just walking dogs! She's not above cleaning pens or washing stinky mutts just lately in off the mean streets. Noblesse oblige4 at its finest.
Just last month a kind of shaggy pup,5 tail wagging but about as muddy and cruddy as a living being could be, probably something like a cockapoo or a Pyrenean Shepherd,6 was found downtown. More likely a Heinz 57® than a purebred. That kind is really pricey and unlikely to go untended, though you never know.
Steph worked on her for hours, scrubbing and rubbing and toweling and combing and brushing until a fluffy and cuddly creature emerged from the filth. Dog9 had to be held for two weeks to give possible owners a shot at recovery, but on the 15th day she was snatched up just after opening, by Jim!7
Small world, eh?
Oh, and Jim and Sam have become fully itemized at this point. She's even considering breaking a longtime rule and moving in with him without first marrying. Given her back-story,8 I don't think we can blame her.
But back to Stephanie and the knuckle biter.
I'm sure some of you have guessed that she's watching a race, and some may even have imagined it's a horse race, given that if it were a human friend or, say, a niece or nephew, in a track meet, the name would seem odd. “TopShellf” is the kind of thing a snooty, self-important thoroughbred owner might name a horse—an odd appellation that only has meaning for the equestrian in question, but hardly what you'd name a baby.
As we discussed earlier, Steph grew up around money. She surely bumped into some horsey folks over the years and, hey, could even have purchased a hot-blooded steed known for its agility, speed and spirit.
On the flipside, we've seen that she's reacted hard against the life of ease she was born into and likely has a different take on “the way things have always been done.” Cushioned through her childhood. Tutored and sent to the best schools. Every little thing on a silver platter. What's not to push back against?
At least, we might interject here, at least she didn't go for Copticism.9 That would be a bridge too far for this story.
No, her stable is smaller, more compact, more manageable. Steph is a devoted terrapinophile and has a small herd of box turtles.10 Racing box turtles! She trains them on tracks in her barn, with strawberries dropped at intervals to lure them along.
TopShellf, her star speedster, is just now running neck and neck with ChromeDome in the U.S. finals! There's a trophy cup and bragging rights at stake, plus Steph has put money on the line—an off-track wager of $10,000!
I know you want to know how it turns out, but this may take awhile. At the last national competition the winner clocked in at three days, four hours and twenty-seven minutes.
Maybe we'll check back later.
1 Just so you know we are ecumenical here, there are no devils either. This is what is referred to as a “turn of phrase.”
2 These golf references are inserted to make it very, very clear that not listening is a very bad behavior. Anything that can be framed in golf terms is to be avoided at all costs.
3 And it is a well-known fact that the aim of a knife-thrower becomes less accurate immediately before payday, particularly when there is an understudy waiting in the wings willing to work for a few dollars per hour less. More late-stage capitalism on the march.
4 We haven't had a French phrase in a while. About time!
5 Dog9
6 A French breed. See, we're still a class act!
7 On page 44 [of the print edition]. These stories are not necessarily sequential. Oh, and this stray is the ninth to appear in the book, hence Dog9.
8 Page 45. [Ditto. Samantha, long-time readers recall, has her marital history tattooed on her back.]]
9 See page 50. [Ditto, ditto]
10 I realize turtles don't have teeth and that a horse would have fit more neatly into the theme of this collection, but box turtles are, in fact, what Stephanie races. One of many upsides is that no turtle in the history of the World Terrapin Stakes® has ever broken a leg and had to be put down. One downside, as mentioned on page 47, is that adopting an animal that may live for 80 years is kind of irresponsible, given that it's apt to outlive you. Trustafarians are not widely acclaimed for ethical splendiferousness, but she'll probably endow a terrapinatarium before she pops off.
And as ever, gracious thanks to my paid subscribers! You folks rock!