Marla’s butt and settled her mouth squarely to suck and press, press, press into her until Marla felt a something like a beginning and she came with a shriek and a small burst of tears. “I could watch the alligator all night,” Taryn said, and she scooted Marla in her sleeping bag closer to the glass. “I’m so glad we’re here.”
The next night was the midnight ride to the beach. Marla found herself sitting in the back of Duke’s jeep with a woman and her husband from Florida, who said they were fervent believers in ecotourism. They had brought their son, who kicked at the back of the driver’s seat. The family had gathered news about the oil spill in the Gulf from their battery-powered radio, and they peppered Marla with facts. The rupture couldn’t be stopped with the latest device they lowered down there, but BP was pouring chemicals all around to break up the oil. Sea turtles were washing up dead on the Bolivar Peninsula down there near the leak. Marla racked her brain for something hopeful to say about that, but she couldn’t finish her thoughts, distracted by the fact that they weren’t driving on an actual road. Taryn sat right up front in the passenger seat, front row to the nothingness ahead of them. While he drove over the uneven sand path toward the beach, Duke counted the babies’ predators on fingers of both hands: sea gull, raccoon, ghost crab, fox, wild dog, horse, hog, alligator, car. Barring these obstacles and obtrusive artificial lights, the babies’ brains set tiny magnetic compasses to keep the great, deep, gaping water at the forefront of their destinies. Duke swerved around stumps from felled trees based on the shadows they made in the headlights. Marla tried to get her mind off of Duke’s tanned lips that faded into his cheeks, and his crooked smile. She tapped the boy on the shoulder and asked him questions about college and his favorite animals, but he didn’t want or know how to answer most of them, and so they sat in silence. They parked, and the group scattered onto the dark beach. Contrary to Marla’s expectations, woods and shore on an undeveloped island were not quiet. The screeches, the loud pops and whimpers, all of it worsened into a garbled riot after the sun set. Marla stared at the curve of her girlfriend’s neck against the star-reflecting water. rather, an image—paddled into Marla’s mind. A ticking egg.
A thought—
And then, a crack-pop sound. Like a rip in the seam of the night. Despite her commitment to the process, Marla felt for her flashlight. She pointed it at the ground, saw the damage she had made, then immediately fumbled to extinguish it. Duke called out, “Like I told you, no flashlights.”
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