That night her throat was a little scratchy and her voice was hoarse, but after one of her husband, Oswald's beers, she felt better.

Her friend, Barbara Ann, phoned her while she was preparing dinner. "Octavia, how are you feeling today? Did you and Oswald work things out last night?"

"I tried Barbara Ann, I really did. But he says he's not going to take just any old job and I guess he's right. He told me to lay off about his drinking, too. He said it wasn't like it was interfering with his job, since he didn't have one at the moment, and since I bought him the cable sports package, he wasn't going to be driving anywhere either. What could I say to that?"

"Octavia, he isn't listening to you! You'd better keep trying." warned Barbara Ann. "But anyway, did you do the other thing I suggested? Did you sign up for an aerobics class or something like that today? You need to get out of the house. I just know it would cheer you up."

"Yes, I got out and met a new group of people." replied Octavia. "I'll tell you about it later."

"Well, why don't you go and tell Oswald about your day. Maybe that can open up a line of communication for you," suggested Barbara Ann.

They concluded their phone conversation and Octavia swallowed a last slug of lukewarm Bud. Oswald was already asleep in front of a Ranger's game on the set in the den. She left the dinner she prepared in the microwave in case he work up hungry later, and then she went upstairs to gargle before bed.

On Tuesday, Octavia prepared Oswald his favorite dinner. Flame Broiled Steaks and Potatoes Baked in Their Jackets. She set the table with yellow tapered candles and a vase of torch lilies from the garden.

He picked up his plate and carried it to the den. The Calgary Flames were facing off against the New Jersey Devils on channel 6.

"You don't mind I eat in here, do ya'?" he asked her as he maneuvered all 325 pounds of himself onto the brown plaid herculon sofa in front of the TV. "My back's killing me from standing on line at the Unemployment Office today."

Octavia and the foam cushions both exhaled a defeated sigh. She blew out the candles and ate her dinner alone at the table. The torch lilies, a little past their prime, tilted precariously in the vase.

On Wednesday, the Amazing Mr. Sawsall laid her in a short ebony case and sawed her body in half. Her knees ached as feet two sizes too small for her tall frame wiggled delightedly at the audience.

She limped into the house that night to find Oswald stretched out asleep in front of the TV again. A pyramid of blue and red beer cans teetered at the edge of the old rectangular knotty pine coffee table. She didn't bother making any dinner this time. She just wanted to stretch out on the bed and sleep for an eternity.

On Thursday, she greeted Oswald at the door with a cold Bud and the classifieds. "How did your interview go today, honey?" she inquired.

"Hmph," he grunted at her. "Ya wouldn't believe what they wanted me to do for their measly wage. I told them to fuhgetaboutit, I wasn't no lackey." He popped the top of the beer can, took a long swallow and beached himself on the couch.

To the tune of Are We Ready to Rumble, she prepared Leg of Lamb and Sliced Carrots for their dinner. She ate silently, balancing her plate on sore knees while Oswald alternately cussed and cheered the Buffalo Sabres.

Barbara Ann phoned again that evening. Right off the bat she asked Octavia, "How is your exercise class going? You still haven't told me about it. I was right, wasn't I? Nothing like exercise and a little socializing to make you feel better about yourself."

"Well, it beats sitting home." replied Octavia.

On Friday, she was shot from a cannon. The shot was misdirected and she lay tangled half in and half out of the net. A team of midgets had to extricate her. The audience loved it. They cheered and begged for an encore.

She went home with singed hair and a bit of a cough that night, but Oswald didn't notice. The Atlanta Thrashers were in overtime against the Tampa Bay Lightning team.

"You got something burning in the oven, 'Tavia? It's stinking up the house." Oswald yelled at her.

"No, Oswald. It's just my hair. I was fired from a cannon today." She said.

"Yeah, whatever, so are you making dinner tonight or what? I'm working up an appetite here." he replied as he raised the volume on the set.

Octavia prepared a plate of smoked oysters for Oswald. She did not, however, join him in this meal. Instead she went outside to the clothes line. She needed to practice. Tomorrow she would juggle a set of ginsu knives on the high wire.