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Marine
- University of Wisconsin Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
97 Marine A typewriter,” I say, “a petite typewriter.” My throat hurts like I swallowed something too big. On the wall over Dave’s shoulders are hand marks where we do push offs. “So I can wear stupid shoes and have long fingernails and be a secretary before I get married. Which I’m not going to.” Dave is opening and shutting the case. “I wanted a rucksack. Or a tent. Mum said they asked before they came to visit. I told her what to tell them.” “Did she?” I shrug. The typewriter sits on Dave’s bed like a spider. A nest of spiders with shining legs and alphabet teeth. “I saw a dead baby,” I say. The words surprise my mouth. Dave turns the key in the lock. “Where?” “In the lagoon. It was floating.” “Why?” She turns the key the other way. “Why what?” “Why didn’t it sink?” “It was on a mat of palm fronds.” 98 “Why did it die?” “I don’t know.” “Did you touch it?” “No. The tide took it away.” Dave is frowning. She isn’t looking at me, she is looking into the case again which has a ruffly blue lining. “You can lock this,” she says, “you can keep things in it.” “Like what?” “Secret things. Equipment.” I have a belt and a flashlight and a knife. She closes the case and locks it. Petite Typewriter it says in blue on the hard cream plastic. “Wait here.” She goes out of the room. I am thinking about the baby which is being carried out to sea. It is floating between the hulls of ships. It bobs up and down among the bottles and the oil drums. When Dave comes back in she hands me a big blue magic marker. I cross out Petite Typewriter and I write Jake’s Marine Equipment. Dave says, “Marines aren’t sailors.” “In England they are.” She draws a picture on the case of a sailor with his kit bag. He is walking towards his ship. He is whistling. C y c l e 2 ...