State of Wonder - Ann Patchett [82]
Dr. Swenson reached up and unclipped Marina’s hammock from the pole and then walked around her to the other side to take the hammock down. It had the effect of someone throwing open the draperies. The sunlight flooded her vision. Without intending to, Marina was looking up the bottom of Dr. Swenson’s shirt and saw the soft white ledge of her belly where it met the line of her drawstring pants. “I thought you had been bitten by a snake.”
“Yes, I understand that.” Marina was shivering slightly in the heat. She closed her right hand, tried to feel her father’s belt.
“There are lanceheads in these parts and they aren’t geniuses for hanging on to their branches. It is as stupid a snake as it is deadly. Everyone here knows someone who met their end stepping on a lancehead. They are perfectly camouflaged and they do nothing to get out of the way or make their presence known except for sinking their teeth into your ankle. Easter once kept me from putting my foot in the middle of one all coiled up in our camp. It must have been two meters long and it didn’t look any different from a pile of leaves and dirt. Even when he showed it to me I didn’t see it at first.” She stopped and gave herself a quick shake.
“Was I about to step on one?”
“They do occasionally fall into boats,” Dr. Swenson said tersely. “They like to get under things or into things. A hammock is a reasonable place for a snake to hide. It was startling, your screaming. I had to turn you out to see if there was a snake in there with you.”
“You turned the hammock over?” Marina had assumed she had thrown herself out in the course of her dream.
“Of course I did. Did you expect me to find the snake without waking you?”
Marina shook her head. Had there been a two-meter snake in her hammock, flinging it onto the ground while flinging Marina on top of it would likely not have saved her from being bitten, but where snakes were concerned people often made hurried decisions. She closed her eyes and covered them with both hands. Dr. Swenson would have thought she was thinking of the snake but she was thinking of her father. No one said anything for a while and then she felt something very cold tapping against her shoulder.
“Sit up,” Dr. Swenson said. “Drink a bottle of water. Sit up now. There’s ice on the boat. Do you want any ice?”
Marina shook her head.
“Ice is a luxury confined to this moment. If you want any ice, this is your chance. Sit up now, Dr. Singh. I can’t stand to see a person lying on this deck. It’s vile. You had a dream. Now sit up and drink your water.”
Marina sat up and then, remembering the cockroaches, she pulled herself back onto the box of grapefruit juice. Her head hurt. Then she noticed that the box she was sitting on was covered in letters, letters she was sure hadn’t been there earlier. It was a printed uppercase alphabet of an irregular size, or most of the alphabet. The letter K was gone, and when she moved her thigh she saw the Q was missing as well. Some letters, like the A, were perfectly rendered, while others, R and Z, were backwards. At the end of the string of letters were two words, EASTER and ANDERS, followed by a rudimentary drawing of a snail. Marina touched her fingers to Anders’ name. “What’s this about?”
“That is one of the many legacies left by your friend Dr. Eckman. I’m sure there are more I have yet to come across. In the brief amount of time he was with us he managed to teach Easter the fundamentals of table manners as well as the alphabet, or most of the alphabet. I see the K is missing.”
“And he can write their names.”
“I thought it was interesting that those were the two words he chose to teach the boy. Easter, well, that makes sense, but Anders? Still, he was very sick at the end. Maybe he felt it was a way to be remembered.”
Marina could see him sitting on a log, a pad of paper out across his knees, Easter pressed in close beside him. Of course he could teach a