heater for a half hour and that'll dry it enough." He
poured me a glass of water and handed it to me. "In
the meantime," he took a rubber raincoat off a hook,
"you can wear this."
I drank the water.
"I'll go fill the tub and get a brush."
"I'll wash it," I said. "You don't have to do
that."
"It's all right. If I can wash smelly fish guts off
the deck, I can wash off some used vodka." "Ugh," I said, laughing.
He left, and I took off the dress, fastened my
bra and put on the raincoat.
"All set," he called out.
"I'll do it," I insisted.
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He took me to the tub and I scrubbed the dress
clean while he lit the kerosene heater in the cabin.
When I thought the dress was clean enough, I brought
it in and he draped it carefully over the heater. "Shouldn't take too long," he said. I sat on the bench. He went to a closet and took out a pillow. "Here," he said placing it on the corner of the bench.
"Lie back, close your eyes, and rest."
"Thank you. You're a regular rescue service," I
told him.
He sat at the base of the bench, his back against
it, his arms around his legs. The small flame in the oil
lamp flickered, making the shadows dance on the
walls of the cabin. I could hear the water licking at the
sides of the boat. The pungent odor of seaweed and
salt water was as refreshing as mint at the moment. I
took a deep breath and sighed.