She didn’t have to look around to know there was no woman nearby.

Anytime she was out of the pool, she put on the hearing glasses. On Sundays, when she went into town, she listened hard to every conversation she could, trying to fill her brain with words.

She was glad Tibbet had the tape recorder on all the time, taping the sounds in the homearium. This way she did not have to rely solely on her own perceptions.

* * *

That afternoon she put on the hearing glasses and stepped into the main room of the research center to report to Blum her day’s progress.

His wife had left the day before with the kids, to visit her parents for two weeks in Connecticut. Cora stood a few feet back from him.

He nodded, listening intently, as she talked about the incident with the rat. On the table in front of him was a book with the title The Psychedelic Experience. She noted with surprise the author’s name was that of the researcher who had visited with Blum: Leary. Above his name was a drawing of a bare-chested shaman, head thrown back, an eagle rising behind him.

When she had finished explaining how Junior had herded the rat to the stairs, Blum pursed his lips and said maybe she understood the dolphins so well, was able to bond with them, because of her heritage.

She looked from left to right, confused, then asked—Because I grew up in Florida?

He said—No, because you’re Indian. An ancient people, connected to nature. You’re more able to feel what the animals feel.

An image of her granddad flashed into her mind. He was the one in the family who looked the most Seminole, having the widest cheekbones and the darkest skin (although, it must be said, as a fisherman, he was also the one most in the sun). She remembered how he would grab each netted fish, his fingers slipping inside the tender gills to pinch the head still, the fish gasping at the foreign air, its eyes bulging, then he’d jab the knife into the belly and twist the blade upward, disemboweling the creature in one fast motion. He’d repeat this with fish after fish with all the emotion with which one turned off the faucet.

At Blum’s statement, she snorted out a sound that could have been a laugh, then gripped the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed, waiting until the feeling passed.

She thought, if anything, her ability came from her gender and lack of hearing. Like a mouse in a field of grass, she had to pay attention to survive.

* * *

Junior seemed to sense her urgency with the language lessons. He concentrated on making human noises now, even practicing during the quiet times while she read. He’d float at the surface, experimenting with sound.

Perhaps self-conscious, he practiced at the far end of the homearium from her. If she looked at him directly, he would stop.