Read Online Sea Creatures by Susanna Daniel - Free Book Online Page A

too.”
    â€œThis is lovely,” I said. “Thank you.”
    Frankie bounced down onto his rump and ambled to the table, eyes wide. Charlie chewed slowly, glancing at Frankie, who ignored his plate and went from bowl to bowl, choosing each bite. After eating his first chunk of pineapple—it wasn’t a fruit I tended to buy—he emitted the softest sigh of pleasure. This gave me a little thrill, but I kept my cool. He pointed to the bowl of pineapple and signed, What name?
    â€œPineapple,” I said. “We’ll look it up when we get home.”
    And the fish , he signed.
    â€œAnd the jellyfish,” I said.
    Charlie watched us but didn’t say anything.
    I said to Charlie, “Henry wanted to make sure you’re okay with one of the reds he used.”
    â€œI’m sure it’s fine,” he said.
    Maybe it was the heat, but I felt no urge to stoke conversation. The air was still. In the distance came the buzz of a boat engine, but then it passed. Gulls squawked. After a while, all that was left on the tray were the stubby green heads of the strawberries and a small mound of wrinkled olive pits. I offered to clean up. Charlie shrugged by way of agreement. As I worked, Frankie dropped to the linoleum and army-crawled to the open doorway, where sunlight spread across the floor. He placed his hands in the patch of light, keeping his fingers inside its boundaries, then rearranged them and did it again. This was the kind of thing that could occupy him for long stretches. Charlie watched him.
    I said, “I was told it was no problem if he came along.”
    â€œIt’s fine,” said Charlie, wiping his face. To Frankie, he said, “You’re what—four?”
    Frankie held up two fingers, then corrected himself by adding one more.
    â€œI see,” said Charlie. He brought his hands—they were thick-fingered, nails neatly trimmed—to his knees and rubbed the worn denim. “I gather you don’t like a lot of talky talk.”
    Frankie nodded, then shook his head.
    â€œI don’t much care for it, either,” said Charlie.
    I dried the last of the bowls and put them away, then returned to the living room, where Frankie now crouched over a laminated fishing map of Biscayne Bay. I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next. In awkward situations, I called on my manners; this was my mother in me. “You were nice to feed us,” I said.
    Charlie stood and crossed his arms against his chest. “I hate this beginning part,” he said. “Every time, all uphill.”
    â€œYou’ve had a lot of assistants?”
    â€œA handful. The last fellow was with me almost a year. You won’t last that long.”
    I couldn’t read his tone. “Probably not.”
    He went to the corner and brought back an empty white cooler. “Keep this. Every time, bring me ice. As much as you can handle.”
    â€œNo problem,” I said.
    â€œAnd take away the trash. I try to keep it to a minimum, but there’s always some.”
    I went to the kitchen and pulled the bag from the trash can. He took it from me, saying, “You’ll need a library card if you don’t have one already. And you’ll need to get my mail from the post office once a week, I don’t care what day. There’s a Friday list—you have it already? Did you talk to Riggs?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    He went through a hallway door and came out again, closing the door behind him. He handed me a piece of paper, another photocopied list. “I have a project. We’ll start Friday, if you can spare a few hours. If you want to get paid, I’d call Riggs right away.”
    I scanned the list. “You eat a lot of fruit.”
    â€œI was in the navy,” he said. “There’s a history of scurvy.”
    I assumed this was a joke, but he gave no indication. I had questions—I would have liked to know how often I’d be