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I spent two more nights in Maine. The man got up in the morning and went to work. His work had been the topic of many of our conversations online. All the things he did to keep his store afloat. We’d talked mostly about him, actually. He’d built a perception of me based on the things I’d said back. When he said he’d had a hard day, I said, “oh no, poor guy.” He got to thinking I was this sainted person. This woman who lived to say “oh no, poor guy.”
It was easy to let him think that. In a new romance, the other person was mostly invention. So, he thought I was kind, a good listener. He liked the way my body looked, based on the two best pictures ever taken of it. I didn’t mind his version of me. If he thought I was that way, maybe I was. Maybe I was patient and interesting and funny. Lithe and understanding. After a while he wanted to describe the things he wished he could do to me. The places he’d put his mouth. It was all vaguely embarrassing, but wasn’t that love?
While he was at work, the baby and I stayed in the shack. I did the dishes. The baby played with the pink hammer, chewed on its flexible grip. Bits of it came off in her mouth and I called him to find out if it was toxic.
“What?” he said. “Why?”
Then he had to go sell someone an extension cord. I found a nail sticking out of the floor that was not hammered in all the way, and gave it a whack. I thought, This is my new life. We went out on the beach with a bowl and a ladle and I used them to build a sandcastle for the baby. When it was finished, I took her soft feet in my hands and made them stomp it out of existence. She looked at me with a glazed expression: boredom.
Hours passed and the man came back. He had food with him. For a moment I felt mildly kidnapped — him returning with supplies like that — but then I remembered I had my own car. I had driven there of my own volition. The man made another sea broth and we ate it with bread. His arms were tattooed. This provided contrast to the husbands, who disdained such things, in Ted’s case, or who had never considered them, in Charlie’s.
Lying on the bed afterward, he ran his hand up and down my side, over my ribcage and hip. He looked at me soulfully for a long time. The sex granted temporary deliverance. It fixed the fence and brought home the dog. The toaster functioned beautifully. It turned the babies into embryos, tucked them back up inside me. As for the catamaran, it was restored to its previous owner. I could see him out there on the high seas in his captain’s hat, smiling at me from the deck.
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