Two women sit side by side on the pier. They dangle their legs over the water. Muscular men pierce fish heads on hooks and cast them out into the river.

She learns what it means to be a woman on a farm in rural New York. She is driving a borrowed car when the tire blows out. A man driving past pulls over and offers her a lift to his farm where she can use the phone. There's no cell phone reception on this part of the mountain, he explains. She leaves the hazards on and the car doors locked. His old truck smells of diesel and cracked plastic. The farm is five miles further, to the right, up a road, down another road. She tries to memorize the way in case she has to run for help but she is already disoriented. Every dirt road looks the same. Every tree, identical. At the farm where he lives with his family she uses the phone. When she comes back outside, having contacted a tow truck, he is standing a little way from the door. It's summer. He's standing with his back to her, skinning a rabbit. The smell of blood mixes with the smell of sweat and sun and mud. She imagines the muscles under his shirt. She sees the flash of the blade. It's the most arousing thing she has ever witnessed.

There is a picture, a black and white photograph, Dalí floating on his back off the coast of Spain, off the fishing village of Cadaqués, like a sea otter, there's an urchin resting on his belly, and his moustache droops with salt water. This is the scene she dreams when she dreams about her father. These are the rocks that she sees from the rowboat where he takes her. The sun is shining. The landscape is no longer black and white. She is wearing a red and white polka dot bikini. The boat sways. The sun shines. In the next photograph Dalí is cracking open a sea urchin with a rock. She imagines him popping the yellow flesh into his mouth like a chicken heart.

Mother looks out the window and lights a cigarette. Don't write about me until I'm dead, she says, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth. Stubbornly, she refuses to die.

They are in a rowboat off the coast. The boat smells like fishing lines and a diesel engine. Her father is waiting for her to ask him to fuck her but she won't say it out loud. He knows what she's thinking. He knows what she wants. He toys with her. He won't do a thing until he hears her say it out loud. Say it, he says, but she shakes her head. The boat rolls on the waves and she gags on the seaweed smell. She looks at the green blue water and the rocks on the shore. She thinks about sea urchins and chicken hearts.

There is a yellow cake with chocolate frosting in the middle of the table. Someone strikes a match and lights the candles. Make a wish. Blow out the birthday candles. Eat a slice of cake but don't tell anyone what you wished for. The wish is to be kept secret. The wish is to be closely guarded.