Swedish Berries

The girl stayed on the hotel beach reading, peering up from her book to see if her mother was still talking to that man. They stood in the surf, his nipples breaking out of his white chest hair, thick and red, like Swedish berries, once her favourite snack. The man took the tips of her mother’s fingers while she lowered herself onto her belly and he floated her back and forth, offering constant reminders to kick and breathe, chin up and breathe. Then more insistent: chin up and breathe.

When the girl looked up next, the man was sitting on the beach, clutching his foot, toes fanned like frill-necked lizard. Her mother stayed in the surf, each passing wave urging her toward shore. But the girl could see what her mother saw, that this man got too angry too fast. They’d dine alone that night. Whatever the girl wanted, she could have.

READER

Asian female, early 30s, with short brown hair, wearing glasses, grey jacket, blue collared shirt, and dark blue jeans.

The Origin of Species

Nino Ricci

(Doubleday, 2008)

p 251