EVERETT BJORKMAN
215
he always used to refer to her family), and it would have been
pleasant to gab away the time with her.
But of course as a boy he had often had to amuse himself for
hours at a time and he was not without
his
little devices.
Kids
now–
adays, with television, movies, spectator sports and mechanical toys,
simply do not know how to play, he thought, unzipping.
Toward morning he thought that perhaps he was too old, after
all; he realized
his
mind was only on the news. He had beached some
time ago and the glass grated on the sand as the box shifted in the
gentle lapping of the water. There was no point in lying there any
longer, thought Bjorkman, the early riser. He felt rumpled, soggy,
unrested, unsatisfied,
his
mouth foul as it always was when he
neglected his teeth the night before. Unwelcome dawn burned meanly
across the water, glinting in his eyes, making the burning bulb in the
ceiling of the booth look pale and futile. Everett took out
his
hand–
kerchief to protect his fingers and twisted the hot bulb until it was
extinguished, twisted and twisted until his wrist was tired, then pulled
it out by the roots. At least a little fresh air came in through the hole
it left. Everett put
his
lips to the hole and sucked, sucked;
it
was
like drinking water and it got him very much aroused.
To his great surprise, as he pressed against the ceiling, sucking,
it fell open, like a lid, and he was able to crawl out onto the wet
sand. He laughed ironically-to think that all he had had to do, all
that time, was press on the lid- not the walls, mind you, but the lid.
It beat all. He brushed his trousers and stamped
his
feet to regain
circulation, straightened
his
tie, still laughing. Gingerly he stooped
beside the water and splashed his face, rubbing his cheeks vigorously,
then dipped
his
comb in the water and tidied
his
hair. He even
tried to whistle, but found that he couldn't quite keep his lips rounded.
As
a boy he had had to work and had little opportunity to learn the
things the regular fellows did. In moments of discouragement he felt
that
this
had left him colorless. No matter, he thought, striking off
down the beach jauntily, yawning and smiling. With a shave and
vigorous tooth-brushing he would be a new man. Another thought
came to him, pleasing him with his ingenuity. Why couldn't he rinse
his teeth in the salt water? Finding a rock which enabled him to reach
deeper water without wetting
his
shoes, he bent over and dipped both
