“There’s not any water back here, I guess?” I said. We watched the bale continue to smolder.“You know,” she sighed. “I think we better get out of here.”“Yeah,” I said. I grabbed her hand. “Can we go somewhere else?”She smiled, and pressed the hand I held to my face.“No,” she said. “Not tonight.”“But when? How will I see you again?”She rose up on her toes and kissed my lips gently, lingeringly, before dropping back down.“I’ll find you,” she said.“Can you meet me here again?”“We’ll see. Relax.”“But I’m going to be leaving soon,” I said. “Going… you know. I don’t know when… I don’t know how often I’ll be back here. I don’t—”She put her finger to my lips. “I’ll find you. Don’t worry.”“How will you—”“I said, don’t worry. You believe me, right?”I looked back and thickening billows of smoke were swirling out of the smoldering cardboard cube. She pulled away from me and made for her car.“You could be one of the good ones, Joe,” she called back at me. “Wait,” I called after her. “Sally!. "Certainly, miss. Let me measure your feet." If the clerk sees any trace ofa boy in the figure before her, she does not show it in her words orattitude.The young woman glows at the word "miss" and takes off her shoes, revealingthe inexpertly painted toes visible in knee high stockings.The sales clerk measures her feet, and soon she is wobbling on a pair ofwhite skates. A careful test under the watchful eye of the clerk later, shetakes them off, and takes them to the counter to pay.Later, she walks down the street from the store, her skates in a box in abag on her shoulder. She heads to a community center, and goes inside, andlooks at the indoor rink.Its beginner's skate time, so she finds a chair, pulls off her shoes, andworks her feet into the skates.At first, she is wobbly, but years of practice in black skates come back toher, and she is soon gliding across the ice.She looks over at a young girl in a figure skating costume and for amoment, allows envy to rise in her mind. "Never.
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