Page 65 of Not Looking
I repositioned my tool rest and started to round the interior. But even as shavings and dust peeled off, my mind wandered to Craig.
“I’m sure there’s somebody who will love you like you deserve.”
The words were like a skipping record in the back of my mind. I hadn’t processed them at the time—too stuck in my memories—but after he’d apologized and we’d moved on, my brain played back the conversation.
They weren’t the words of a flirt, and there was a sincerity that was almost overwhelming.
I got the interior of the bowl to a good place and stopped the lathe. A burst of compressed air blew out the dust and shavings, then I ran my fingers over the wood as I spun the bowl.
“Hmm…” I grumbled as I felt something I didn’t like.
“Everything ok?”
I ran my hand over the spot. “Just a bit softer than I’d like, and I think there’s a tiny crack.”
“So it’s bad?”
I shook my head, turned, and grabbed my CA glue and accelerator. “I think it’ll turn away, but I’m going to stabilize it anyway.”
I doused the spot with the glue, then used the spray to set it. I gave it a few seconds, then tapped it with my fingernail. Satisfied, I moved my tool rest so I could work on the outside again.
With everything finally rounded, I turned up the speed.
My gouge was sharp, and the wood shaved away easily.
I glanced up at the end of the cut to see Craig watching with a gentle smile on his face. I shivered. He was a flirt, but it was working.
The next cut started cleanly enough, but feedback from the gouge caught my attention near the rim.
I stopped the lathe and tried to find the spot I’d felt, but nothing stood out. I figured that it was nothing and turned it back on.
I didn’t feel anything off the next two cuts, and I decided it was just my imagination. I glanced up at Craig again as I shifted to do another.
The push-cut started clean.
I thought about Craig standing in the clearing, awe written across his face.
The gouge caught, and time slowed to a crawl.
A crack boomed through the workshop as chunks of wood sheared off from the bowl and went flying.
Searing pain as a piece hit my arm.
“Randy!” The scent of protective alpha invaded my nose.
Time returned to normal.
“Son of a bitch!” I shouted as I turned off the lathe.
It was still spinning down as I turned, only for Craig to be right there. He took my arms in his hands. “Are you ok?”
“I…” I started to nod.
“You’re bleeding!”
I looked down to see a gash along my arm.
“I-I’ll drive you to the doctor,” Craig started. He ran his hand under my arm. “Is it broken?”
