If, for a week or so, she didn’t wear the hearing aids, her brain got lonely, hungry for language, and the voices returned.

* * *

Blum’s wife tended to visit the research center in the morning when her kids weren’t napping. The first time she appeared, stepping out onto the veranda, it was about 10 A.M. Cora was sitting by the pool in her bathing suit, taking notes. Simply from the way the wife’s attention locked on her and then her posture straightened, Cora knew Blum had had affairs.

The wife walked over, her two toddlers following. She was a thin precise blond, in her early thirties, a decade older than Cora. Although she held her face in a fixed smile, her tongue moved sharply, filled with long-term fury. She said her name was Babs. Her eyes missed no detail.

Cora told her she was hard of hearing and asked her to speak slower. She answered whatever questions she could hear, her name and her work here. She pulled on some clothes, slouched and tried to appear harmless.

When Babs left, her kids trailed along behind, the oldest sucking her thumb, watching her mom with a worried look.

Tibbet’s wife, on the other hand, didn’t have kids. She tended to drop by the research center more frequently, every few days. She’d appear around noon to have lunch with the men, drinking a gimlet or martini the way they did. She was maybe twenty-five, her hair red and her body ample. She laughed easily, giving into the motion, her whole body swaying, one hand against her chest.

The first time she appeared, she walked over to Cora to introduce herself. Her mouth opened wide while she talked, a generous spirit, her tongue unhurried and large.

She said her name. It might have been Terry or maybe Carrie.

Terry/Carrie asked if she was Eh’s girlfriend.

Cora said—No, I work here.

Terry/Carrie cocked her head. Something about the way she did this reminded Cora of Bernie studying her with his dark eyes.

Cora said—I feed the dolphins. Make sure they’re healthy.

Terry/Carrie still looked at her.

Cora added—Your husband calls me the dolphin maid.

Terry/Carrie nodded. She wore a t-shirt that said Smith Lacrosse Team.

Wanting to change the subject, Cora asked—What’s Smith?

Terry/Carrie paused at this question, seemed surprised.

With a long neck and black hair, Cora had been told she looked a little like Audrey Hepburn. However the last few weeks in the sun had darkened her skin to a shade that Hepburn could have never achieved.

Ahh—said Terry/Carrie.

From being around the dolphins, Cora was more aware of breath, her own and others, the frequency of it, the speed and depth. Terry/Carrie exhaled that ahh with a movement of her stomach, her head nodded and her curiosity about Cora left her. She said—It’s a college, dear.

Still she invited Cora up to have lunch and drinks with the men on the veranda. Cora replied she couldn’t; she was working. Terry/Carrie walked up there and sat down, tucking her skirt under her legs. The men watched her do so.