Page 17 of Born to be Wilder

“This is important! I want a photo for Roxie!”

Before Alice could rebut, Marge spun back toward the woman who had resumed reading her book.

“Sorry to bother you again, ma’am, but we’re on a trip before her breast cancer surgery.” She pointed at Alice. “We’re documenting everything because, you know. Cancer.”

Alice’s mouth fell open as all our eyes bulged.

The woman’s expression shifted immediately. Something softened in her face, and she set her book down fully.

“My mother had breast cancer.” She looked at Alice. “You’re a warrior.”

Alice’s smile was so tight it could have cracked. “Thank you,” she said in a gracious voice, but one that also promised Marge a reckoning later.

“It’s fine. Go ahead and take your pictures.” The woman waved toward the door. “I’ll say a prayer for you. My mother beat hers. You’ll beat yours too.”

“I appreciate that,” Alice said, her smile turning into a grimace the moment she locked eyes with Marge.

Marge ignored the threat, grinning like the Cheshire cat as she strode toward the doors.

“Thank you so much.” I pulled Alice and Doris along behind me.

We pushed through the door and out into a large open yard, and one by one, we stumbled to a stop.

There it was—an enormous sculpture of a woman’s leg, fishnets and all, jutting skyward at an angle. The kind of thing that made you blink twice and then look around to see if anyone else was seeing what you were seeing.

The Giant Lady’s Leg Sundial in all its glory.

“It’s magnificent,” Marge said reverently. “It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. I was hoping it was this, and it’s… this. Freaking awesome.”

“It’s… a giant lady’s leg,” Alice said, disbelief in her voice. “It really is a giant lady’s leg sundial.”

My surprise was different, having seen photos of it on the internet, but nothing could have prepared me for seeing it in person. “This is so much better than I thought it was going to be.”

“It’s huge!” Doris stared wide-eyed. “A huge lady’s leg!”

“Roxie is gonna die!” Marge took off, her shoes crunching through the random patches of leftover snow as she beelined toward it. “Come on! Someone take a picture of me!”

She stood in front of it, arms opened wide as she grinned. I pulled out my phone and snapped several photos. “Okay, who is next?”

“I hate to say I want a photo in front of this monstrosity, but…” Alice paused, then started toward it. “I want the photo.”

I laughed and took her photo, then Doris’s next. Then it was my turn, and I lay on the platform beneath the leg, making mine arch in the same way as the sculpture. The girls cheered me on as I posed, and then Marge joined me.

“Okay, we all need to get one together.” I waved them to me.

We lined up in front of the leg, shoulder to shoulder. I held out my arm, but it wasn’t long enough to get us all in the photo and keep the leg in the frame. We tried several times for almost a minute, the perfect photo of the four of us with the leg eluding me.

We were mid-shuffle, laughing at something Marge had said, when a voice came from across the yard.

“Would you like me to take one of all four of you?”

We turned, and one by one, our mouths fell open.

An older man walked toward us from the direction of the main building. He wore a heavy winter coat, open at the front, rubber boots, and a knit cap.

But it wasn’t what he was wearing that had us gawking and choking on our next breaths.

It was what he wasn’t wearing.