At this point, she thought of Junior as a large underwater Labrador retriever, a puppy who got in the way and nipped at her heels but was still her loyal companion. He slept when she slept, floating beside her in the water, sucking on her foot. He woke when she woke. He went where she went, his side against hers. And like a dog, he studied her emotions with his large brown eyes.

One night in bed, feeling tired and overwhelmed and so alone, perhaps a bit pre-menstrual, she put an arm over her eyes and cried, her breath catching. Her breath came unevenly, her ribs shuddering, huh-ah-ah-hahh.

Junior, asleep with his head under the water, somehow sensed this and awoke. He let go of her toe and pulled back a bit. From the corner of her eye, she could see him focusing on her.

She looked over. His blowhole was winking open and closed, repeatedly.

Worried, she leaned over to place her fingers on his blowhole to feel what was going on.

Breathy exhales. Huh-ah-ah-hahh.

Surprised, she looked him in the eye.

Creatures designed for living underwater, dolphins would never express sadness through breathing. Yet here was Junior imitating her sounds with an urgency in his breath. Huh-ah-ah-hahh. How do you read the emotion of an animal with a fixed grin?

He dipped his face in and out of the water, making the sounds. An uneven inhaling and exhaling, a pained wet huffing. Huh-ah-ah-hahh.

Watching him, she forgot to cry. He took one of her toes very gently in his mouth and sucked on it, a comforting touch. They were here together.

* * *

Each day she stepped out of the homearium, onto the lawn, to report on her progress to Blum.

These days, he wore his shirts unbuttoned. Before he left, Leary had given him a wood bead necklace, as well as a bottle of pills. The pills, he said, were for research, and the one time she saw them, she was surprised at how tiny they were. How could taking those tiny pills make him act so differently? Blum wore the necklace every day, the beads clinking on his skinny chest. He tended to stand closer to Cora than before, and while they talked, he would touch her at times, on the shoulder, the waist or hip. If she shifted back, he’d look surprised.

He said—You’re uptight. Get with the times.

His language had changed. At times, he used words like downer or fab or bummer.

She’d adjust the position of her glasses, trying to hear better.

Biology—he said, patting her hip.—We’re all just animals.

She thought of Bernie. He used to treat the female dolphins the same way, touching and tapping, sonaring and bumping, seeing how far he could get.

* * *

One afternoon, Blum stepped from the living room into the homearium, laughing so hard he bowed over with the power of it, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. She asked what he was laughing about, but in the pool without her glasses, she couldn’t hear his response; wasn’t sure with his face pointed down like that, if he made one.