He nodded.

—So I can see them.

The only word she recognized in his response was bad.

She asked—Why is it bad?

He spoke, irritated, moving the Tums from one side of his mouth to the other.

She waited, her brows raised.

He inhaled and said in an exaggerated fashion using loud Tarzan English—We want wild dolphins. Want to learn about wild dolphins.

She asked—Wild dolphins?

He nodded.

—Then why keep them caged?

Tibbet blinked.

(Decades later, when Cora thought back to the way people moved and talked during this era, she realized it was as though everyone doubted their own gender. In reaction, they over-compensated in a thousand small ways.

Men tended to speak in a deep voice with little emotion. They made statements, Joe Friday from Dragnet just stating the facts. They talked at length, assuming all were interested. They didn’t ask questions. Their hair was flattened with grease. They sat with their legs spread as though something in their pants needed the room; perhaps it was all the keys in their pockets, to their homes, their cars, their offices.

On the other hand, women had no keys in their pockets, for mostly they had no pockets at all but only purses that they clutched in their hands. Wearing dresses or skirts, they turned their faces to the men, giggling and nodding and exclaiming, their voices pitched high, so much harder for Cora to hear. In general, they acted like nervous guests, perched uncomfortably on a chair, their thighs crossed, trying to deny there was anything there at all.

Cora wore the appropriate female clothing, but she could not do a lot of the other behavior. She didn’t giggle at the men’s jokes because she tended to miss the punchline. She didn’t utter constant affirmations because she wasn’t sure what specifically needed supporting. She did however lean forward into a conversation, staring at the mouth.

The way men reacted to her depended a lot on if they were happy in their relationship or not.

Tibbet, it appeared, loved his wife a lot.)

He said—What?

She was pretty sure he’d heard, but was making her repeat her question.

She said—Then why do you keep them caged?

Tibbet snorted as though in disgust and walked away.

* * *

That afternoon, when she waded out of the water, Blum was sitting on the dock watching her. He had no weight on him, a bony man, something inside burning all his energy, a small hamster in his head or chest running and running.

The air was quiet, no wind, and he tended to be easier to lipread: his mouth opened wide, his tongue moved crisply. (With him, she only had real difficulty when he had a cigarette clamped in the corner of his mouth.)

At the moment, watching the neat gymnastics of his mouth, she thought he enjoyed his body. She had an image of him standing up from the toilet and looking back in the bowl with pride.

He said, his eyes moving lazily over her bathing suit, pausing on her left breast—Why do you spend so much time in the water?