Wet Weight

Management arrived at the beach cleanup with a luggage scale, a ruled notebook, and our banner. We strapped the scale to a beam inside the access shelter, where the screen could be read without anyone having to hold the weight. Collected rubbish would be weighed. The largest individual haul would appear in our photograph.

We hung the banner across the railing behind the scale. This left a place for the successful collector between ONE MILLION DOLLAR and COMPANY. We took a test photograph with nobody in it and moved the notebook out of shot.

Our own first item was a duvet caught beneath the steps. It filled a collection sack and registered eleven point eight kilos. A stream of seawater ran from the sack onto our shoes. Management held it over a bucket until it stopped dripping, then weighed it again. Eight point four. We wrote that down in pencil.

Two swimmers were working farther down the steps, pulling a length of abandoned mooring rope out from under the lowest tread. They wanted to use the steps. One pulled while the other lifted each freed loop onto the landing. The rope was thick as a wrist and threaded with sand.

They asked whether we had a tarpaulin. We offered the banner. A photograph of the rope arriving inside our name seemed worth taking.

We laid it printed side up. They rolled the rope onto it and carried the four corners between them, keeping the bundle low. At the shelter we set it on the concrete floor. Management gathered the corner eyelets onto a carabiner and clipped that to the scale's lower hook. The swimmers lifted the bundle while we shortened the suspension strap. When they lowered their hands, the rope hung a few inches above the floor.

The display climbed past twenty kilos. We reached for the notebook.

Most of the lettering had folded underneath. Management took hold of one side and turned it toward the camera. The rope shifted. One eyelet pulled through its strip of vinyl; the next corner tore to the hem. The bundle dropped onto the floor with a wet slap.

The screen had not settled on a number. The swimmers unhooked the remaining corners and began transferring the rope to a wheelbarrow. We asked them to wait. Our name was still under it.

They lifted the last coil clear. We spread out the banner and fetched the cleanup scissors. There was an intact rectangle around the logo. We cut along its edges, leaving the torn eyelets on the concrete.

Management stood beside the loaded wheelbarrow and held the rectangle at chest height. We tucked our fingers behind it so the whole Company name would show.