'JUST THE BLADE IS NEW,' he said. 'JUST THE DIAMOND WHEEL ITSELF.'
I had never seen it gleam so; the diamond segments truly sparkled.
'IT'S NOT JUST NEW-I BOILED IT,' he said. 'AND THEN I WIPED IT WITH ALCOHOL.' That was the unfamiliar smell! I thought-alcohol. The block of wood on the saw table looked new-the cutting block, we called it; it didn't have a nick in it. 'I SOAKED THE WOOD IN ALCOHOL AFTER I BOILED IT, TOO,' Owen said. I've always been pretty slow; I'm the perfect reader! It wasn't until I caught the whiff of a hospital in the monument shop that I realized what he meant by JUST A LITTLE COURAGE. Behind the diamond wheel was a workbench for the lettering and edging tools; it was upon this bench that Owen had laid out the sterile bandages, and the makings for a tourniquet.
'NATURALLY, THIS IS YOUR DECISION,' he told me.
'Naturally,' I said.
'THE ARMY REGULATION IN QUESTION STATES THAT A PERSON WOULD NOT BE PHYSICALLY QUALIFIED TO SERVE IN THE CASE OF THE ABSENCE OF THE FIRST JOINT OF EITHER THUMB, OR THE ABSENCE OF THE FIRST TWO JOINTS ON EITHER THE INDEX, MIDDLE, OR RING FINGER. I KNOW TWO JOINTS WILL BE TOUGH,' said Owen Meany, 'BUT YOU DON'T WANT TO BE WITHOUT A THUMB.'
'No, I don't,' I said.
'YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THE MIDDLE OR RING FINGER IS A LITTLE HARDER FOR ME: I SHOULD SAY IT'S HARDER FOR THE DIAMOND WHEEL TO BE AS PRECISE AS I WOULD LIKE TO BE-IN THE CASE OF EITHER A MIDDLE OR A RING FINGER. I WANT TO PROMISE YOU THERE'LL BE NO MISTAKE. THAT'S AN EASIER PROMISE FOR ME TO MAKE IF IT'S AN INDEX FINGER,' he said.
'I understand you,' I said.
'THE ARMY REGULATION DOESN'T STATE THAT BEING RIGHT-HANDED OR LEFT-HANDED MATTERS -BUT YOU'RE RIGHT-HANDED, AREN'T YOU?' he asked me.
'Yes,' I said.
'THEN I THINK IT OUGHT TO BE THE RIGHT INDEX FINGER-JUST TO BE SAFE,' he said. 'I MEAN, OFFICIALLY, WE'RE TALKING ABOUT YOUR TRIGGER FINGER.'
I froze. He walked to the table under the diamond wheel and demonstrated how I should put my hand on the block of wood-but he didn't touch the wood; if he'd touched it, that would have spoiled his opinion that it was sterile. He made a fist, pinning his other fingers under his thumb, and he spread his index finger flat on its side. 'LIKE THIS,' he said. 'IT'S THE KNUCKLE OF YOUR MIDDLE FINGER YOU'VE GOT TO KEEP OUT OF MY WAY.' I couldn't speak, or move, and Owen Meany looked at me. 'BETTER HAVE ANOTHER BEER,' he said. 'YOU CAN BE A READER WITH ALL YOUR OTHER FINGERS-YOU CAN TURN THE PAGES WITH ANY OLD FINGER,' he said. He could see I didn't have the nerve for it.
'IT'S LIKE ANYTHING ELSE-IT'S LIKE LOOKING FOR YOUR FATHER. IT TAKES GUTS. AND FAITH,' he added. 'FAITH WOULD HELP. BUT, IN YOUR CASE, YOU SHOULD CONCENTRATE ON THE GUTS. YOU KNOW, I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT YOUR FATHER-YOU REMEMBER THE SO-CALLED LUST CONNECTION? WHOEVER HE WAS, YOUR FATHER MUST HAVE HAD THAT PROBLEM-IT'S SOMETHING YOU DON'T LIKE IN YOURSELF. WELL, WHOEVER HE WAS-I'M TELLING YOU-HE WAS PROBABLY AFRAID. THAT'S SOMETHING YOU DON'T LIKE IN YOURSELF, TOO. WHOEVER YOUR MOTHER WAS, I'LL BET SHE WAS NEVER AFRAID,' said Owen Meany. I not only couldn't speak, or move; I couldn't swallow. 'IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO HAVE ANOTHER BEER,' he said, 'AT LEAST TRY TO FINISH THAT ONE!'
I finished it. He pointed to the sink.
'BETTER WASH YOUR HAND-SCRUB IT GOOD,' he said. 'AND THEN RUB ON THE ALCOHOL.'
I did as I was told.
'YOU'RE GOING TO BE FINE,' he said. 'I'LL HAVE YOU AT THE HOSPITAL IN FIVE MINUTES-UNDER TEN MINUTES, TOPS! WHAT'S YOUR BLOOD TYPE?' he asked me; I shook my head-I didn't know my blood type. Owen laughed. '/ KNOW WHAT IT IS-YOU DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING} YOU'RE THE SAME TYPE AS ME! IF YOU NEED ANY, YOU CAN HAVE SOME OF MINE.' I couldn't move away from the sink.
'I WASN'T GOING TO TELL YOU THIS-I DIDN'T WANT TO WORRY YOU-BUT YOU'RE IN THE DREAM. I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU COULD BE IN IT, BUT YOU ARE-EVERY TIME, YOU'RE IN IT,' he said.
'In your dream?' I asked him.
'I KNOW YOU THINK IT'S 'JUST A DREAM'-I KNOW, I KNOW-BUT IT BOTHERS ME THAT YOU'RE IN IT. I FIGURE,' said Owen Meany, 'THAT IF YOU DON'T GO TO VIETNAM, YOU CAN'T BE IN THAT DREAM.'
'You're absolutely crazy, Owen,' I told him; he shrugged-then he smiled at me.
'IT'S YOUR DECISION,' he told me. I got myself from the sink to the saw table; the diamond wheel was so bright, I couldn't look at it. I put my finger on the block of wood. Owen started the saw.
'DON'T LOOK AT THE BLADE, AND DON'T LOOK AT YOUR
