Papa

I allowed myself to daydream, and wasted time wondering what Hemingway would have done if it had been he who had seen the footprints in the sand. 

First of all, by looking at the prints he would have guessed some things about the person who had arrived through the sandy inlet. He certainly would have been able to tell the person’s sex, age, character, or mood: reading tracks was an art he had learned from the Indians with whom he’d fished and hunted in Michigan during his youth. 

After that he would definitely have tried to perform some feat to impress Marika: he was always trying to impress people. He’d have sailed up on his yacht, the Pilar; he’d have dropped anchor into the open water, and swum to her with just one arm while holding a bottle of champagne and glasses aloft with the other, and with his clothes bundled up and attached to his head with a belt. 

But if she hadn’t been there, he’d have been philosophical about it. He’d have gone back to his yacht and, after loading a rowboat with provisions (bread, wine, cheese, and ham), his sleeping bag, camping gear, and something to read, he’d have rowed back to shore, made himself comfortable, and waited.

From Jacque Poulin’s Mister Blue