“And that’s all?”

“Well, I don’t kiss her!”

“Most whores don’t allow kissing.”

“She’s not a whore. She’s, you know, just someone.”

“Why aren’t you all in with her?”

“She’s married.”

“She’s monotonous.”

They both burst out laughing, and Annie felt fine. It was good to hear someone else’s story of how they survive out here on the island. To hear that loneliness didn’t belong only to her.

“You should never go near married stuff. Never. Not a good gig, Johnny. But hey, I’m not here to judge, and if having Miss Married drop by once a week works for you, then good for you. Are you ever gonna fuck her brains out?”

Johnny shrugged, “I don’t know. I think that’s coming, though, and I don’t know if I want that with her or anyone ever again. Just don’t think I can do that thing called ‘relationship.’ But this is getting too deep and too dull. Let’s go grab a bottle of wine and find a beach!”

“Johnny Cochrane, you still know how to worm your way into a woman’s heart.” Annie stood and took his hand. They walked back toward the restaurant at the other end of the breakwater. Two displaced, heartbroken Eskimos walking down a long slab of cement, something put there by man, not by nature. They were the breakwater.

Later, they watched the sun diving down past the ocean and into the deep of space. It had been a good day. It had been a good walk. A good talk. They had eaten hamburgers together. They had shared a bottle of wine. They had put their toes into water that was different from what they grew up with. They had hugged each other good night at the bus stop.

Annie got into her bed with a smile that night. It had been the best day.

A few days later, they were winding and whirling along on the road to Pedder Bay. Laughing and telling each other stories about the people back home. The sun was unusually warm, and a small breeze blew up from the ocean.

“Do you remember that guy, No Nose?” Johnny was shifting gears constantly on the road that twirled and twirled. Moving from third to second gear and back up to fourth when the road straightened out just a bit.

“Yeah, I remember him. Such a sad story his is.”

“Why do you feel bad for him? Geez, he went on to set the Guinness World Record for longest living man without nostrils! Something like a hundred thousand dollars! If I had known that blowing your nose off instead of your brains out got you that kind of cash, I woulda done it!”

“Johnny, that’s really not funny. I mean, think about it. Think what he lives with. I hear that when he swallows food, parts of it come out his nose.”

“Think of what it’s like to have that sitting across from you at Christmas dinner. Peas, carrots, potatoes . . . all dripping back into his plate and him eating it over and over again.”