At times he didn’t want more food or to play catch with the ball. So if she wanted him to talk humanoid, she’d offer to rub his back and sides. He loved this treat the most. While she rubbed his back, he leaned into her motion like a dog, sometimes angling his body to get at a different area. If she gently used her fingernails on his skin, he’d shiver. His eyes were unfocused, and he didn’t breathe. She didn’t know what this felt like to him, but it seemed intense. When he’d had enough, he would startle and scoot away, staying far from her for at least twenty minutes while he recovered.

Despite working for hours each day to get him to speak, for that first week, his language skills didn’t seem to improve at all. She wondered about his capabilities. He was not like Kat, didn’t focus, didn’t seem to understand the point of the lessons. When she spoke words instead of the alphabet, most often he would just squawk or squeal back at her. He interrupted a lot, as males do.

She believed, since he was young, he would catch on.

* * *

Every day, Blum gestured her out of the homearium so she could give him a summary of the day’s work. She would climb out of the pool to retrieve her hearing glasses and a towel and then walk onto the lawn for the conversation with him. It felt strange to move through the air. Behind her, she left a trail of water like a mermaid.

They would sit on the Adirondack chairs looking at the sea, out of Junior’s range of splashing and the volume of his squeals. She would explain what he had managed that day.

Blum at least seemed impressed with the progress. He noted how Junior had accepted her as his mother. The bond, he said, was clearly there and growing. He was not worried about the language lessons. He told her they would see results soon.

* * *

Several times each night, Junior would wake, let go of her foot and squeal. If she didn’t immediately respond, he’d splash her, freshly wetting the bed and pillow. Although she’d yell at him to shut up and stop that, he would keep squealing and splashing until she leaned over to rub his back while he calmed. Then she’d give him back her foot. Sucking on her toes, he’d fall back to sleep within a few minutes.

Evidently dolphins had more intermittent sleep than humans. Or at least adolescent dolphins did.

She woke each morning, groggy. At times, the simplest tasks seemed difficult, the sunlight sparkling on the water hurt her eyes.

* * *

By the fifth day, Junior still hadn’t entered the deeper end of the pool, not once. This was strange, since he must have been tired of being in the very shallow water, unable to swim fast or flip or twirl or jump. It must be as frustrating as it would be for a human to live in a narrow underground tunnel, unable to stretch or stand or run.