With this thin track gone, Junior reacted as though a 10-foot-high wall had been removed. He shot into the deep end, without hesitation. In the deeper water, he swam at high speeds, twisted and turning. He threw himself high in the air and flipped onto his back. So happy.

She dove into the deep end with Junior. He shot over to her, chirping like a baby bird, so grateful. Underwater she kept her eyes closed, listening, the sounds clear and pure. A radio being tuned. A metal flywheel clicking. She soaked them up, this underwater sound so different from the distant muffled above-water sound.

Both of them stayed in the deep end, for a long time.

Each day Junior grew to depend on her more.

* * *

Junior was a young male dolphin. He got erections at different times for no apparent reason, while eating or playing with the ball or napping. It was understandable. In the pool with the other dolphins, he was used to having sex several times a day. Here he was alone, with no other dolphins. When he needed to, he got on top of the inflatable ring and rubbed against it. The action was quite fast; three fast pumps and he was done. Or he rubbed against the ball or the stairs.

She didn’t think much about this. At Beach Ride Bobby’s, the stallion, Mr. Pebbles, would sometimes get an erection while staring into the distance and chewing, or when walking through the field, or even while she tightened the saddle strap around his ribs.

* * *

Junior was used to being physical, to the thumping fast-paced play of dolphins. On the other hand, wading through the water, she was slow and fragile. It was like a tiger cub rooming with a lizard. No matter how gentle the cub was, the lizard got hurt.

Even though she yelled and kicked at him, he still sometimes tripped her or nipped on her heels. Her legs were covered with bruises and scratches.

By the time each evening arrived, she didn’t have the energy to think of a meal she wanted to eat, especially not when she’d have to cook it on the swinging propane stove. So night after night she made the same meal, grabbing a butterfish from Junior’s fridge and filleting it, then frying it in butter with a little salt. It was ready to eat in five minutes. For dessert, she ate a mango out of the skin, then washed her hands and face in the water to clean off. She ate for calories, not for fun. However, this hungry, even this plain and repetitive food popped in her mouth, the crispy fish, the sweet mango.

Through much of the day, she felt the gaze of the men who sat in the living room, taking notes on her progress, pointing and discussing. In front of them she felt like a fool, talking in a high-pitched babyish voice to an underwater creature with its big fixed grin (Good job! Good boy!), trying to act like its mom.