by Lee Welles
Her forward momentum instantly slowed and panic began to bubble up in her. She couldn’t possibly kick her way to the surface in time for her needed breath! Did Gaia drag her out here to make her “lost at sea?” Her heart pounded.
However, the dolphin that had been behind her pushed up and shoved its dorsal fin into one of her grasping hands. Instantly, they went zipping to the surface for a breath. They continued on, toward the horizon.
Again, the dolphin she held jerked away and the one behind her caught her up and took her to the surface. Miho began to relax and even let go when she found her ride start to pull away. She noticed that many times when she surfaced to breathe, the others were still below. Miho realized that they were taking turns carrying her up.
She began to trust in the next dolphin catching her up and taking her to the life-giving air above. She felt better as she picked up the rhythm of their handoffs. (Could it be called a ‘handoff’ when it was a fin she was holding?)
They were flying through the ocean! Occasionally one of her companions would leap clear of the water, twist, and land with a SMACK! The sun in the west dipped into the depths and sent a golden sidewalk out over the water. They raced along this golden path, and Miho’s mind reeled with the magic of it.
She was part of the group. The happiness that grew inside her chest felt so big that it was like an air-filled buoy that would always bring her up to the surface. The sun had left the sky and now there was very little difference between being in the shallow or the deep. It was all dark. Miho had to pay closer attention to the pressure in her ears and on her body to know when to breathe.
The lags slowed their pace and the group began to cruise gently along the surface. Miho swiped at her eyes and craned her neck to take in the stars above. She could also see lights blinking along a hillside about a half-mile to her left.
Goza…they brought me home! Sure enough, they curved inward toward the little rocky cove where Gaia sat, waiting in the mermaid chair.
22
Baka-da!
Gaia was laughing in that unseen, but deeply felt way. “Even in the dark, your eyes shine like the sun!” the otter said. “Did you enjoy your ride?”
Miho searched for words to describe how she felt—a word for a feeling that was higher than happy and also deeper, like happiness that had gone into her bones. All Miho could do was nod her head and smile.
Gaia’s chuckles seemed to blend into the lapping and gurgling that the waves made upon the rocks. “I hoped that you could keep up with your new teachers.”
“Gaia,” Miho began. “Why do you call them my teachers?”
Gaia did a few quick otter-rolls in the surf, as if she was buying time, thinking of an answer. “The minds on the land and the minds in the water are so similar and like minds can teach each other.You are so small in these great oceans that for you to be able to do your work, your mind and their minds need to come together. I am making that so. Come along, my dear. I think it is time to leave the water for today. Your uncle is sure to miss you by now.”
And with that, Gaia rolled once and then dove. Miho stood, staring out at the place where Gaia had been. She struggled to find room for both the happiness and the ache. The big space that the happy ride had made in her chest now filled with a deep ache of love for her mother and father. But the ache wasn’t as dark as before. It was as if the ride through the water had washed it a bit clearer. The ache was only gray.
The smoke from Ojisan’s cigarette reached Miho before Miho reached the house. Ojisan was pacing the road out front, pulling so fiercely on his cigarette that it glowed like an angry red eye in the dark. When he heard Miho’s footsteps, he turned and threw the cigarette to the ground. As he mashed the butt into the dirt he demanded, “You say you have headache! Where you been?”
Miho struggled with the translation, but knew by his tone, his posture and his angry red face—he wanted an explanation for her absence. “I was playing at the beach.” Miho said, her voice so small it seemed like the onshore breeze would carry it up over the hill and dump it into Ago-wan.
Her uncle took two surprisingly big steps for a small man and grabbed Miho’s shirt collar. “Uso bakkari!” he barked. He thinks I’m lying, Miho thought, shocked she understood his words. Ojisan continued in English. “I been to beach,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I been to beach and you no there.”
Miho’s heart was pounding. “I was swimming, Ojisan…I swear! I was out in the water!”
Ojisan walked purposefully into the house. Miho, dragged by her collar, stumbled up over the doorstep after him. He pulled her through the house and then pushed her into her room. “Baka-da! You stupid girl! Sharks come in dark! Boats no see you in dark!” He looked up at the ceiling and said, “Why I curse with ‘nother water girl?” He leveled his gaze back at Miho. “Pack. Tomorrow we go back to Nagoya…for good! You no swim there!”
And with that, he slammed the door. Miho stared at the door and felt the meaning of his words sink in. Back to Nagoya? Back to the big, loud, smelly city and the little, quiet, smelly apartment? Miho’s heart sank.
She had seen the change in her Oji this weekend. He had smiled. She had heard him laughing with his friend. He had even joked with her a little. Miho sensed that Goza made him feel better. But could she ever talk him into coming back again? She put her things into her backpack, pulled her futon down off the shelf and pulled ratty gray Shinju into bed with her. She rubbed the matted stuffed dolphin’s back and returned her mind to the feeling of going fast and furious through the sea. And, on that memory of flying along with her new teachers, she slept.
23
Rising Storm
Miho woke to the sound of laughter. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Her arms, shoulders and back felt like lead, proof of the adventure Gaia had sent her on. The ache was comforting in a way, a physical reminder that what had happened was real. Miho stretched her shoulders and told Shinju they absolutely had to find a way to stay in Goza!
In the main room, her Oji was sitting at the table with Sensei and the man she had met at the ferry the day before. Both were listening intently to her teacher. Sensei finished what he was saying and there was a brief pause before they all erupted into yet another burst of laughter. Ojisan saw her, smiled, and waved her over to the table. “Miho, did I tell you that Mr. Masuaki was Sensei’s best student? He still does Shodo, in Kyoto.”
Miho smiled at the man and then turned to Ojisan. Again, she did her best to be a polite, Japanese girl. “Sumimasen, (excuse me) I must have been mistaken. Aren’t we leaving this morning?” Miho asked.
Ojisan was already turning back to the conversation between the two other men. He waved his hand at her. “We go last ferry. You have whole day; go be water girl.”
Miho wanted to hug him. Not Ojisan, but the man who obviously made her uncle want to stay longer. Another day to find Gaia and maybe another chance for a crazy ride! She bowed to the group of men and said in her most polite Japanese, “It was very nice to see you again.” Miho changed, grabbed her backpack, and set out.
By the time she arrived at the rocky cove with the mermaid chair, the day was already on fire. Great clouds were rising off the ocean and piling up. The air felt thick and heavy and one could almost taste the building electricity. Miho knew it would rain that day or the next.
The tide was out and the mermaid chair was high up out of the water. Miho climbed down to it. She stopped to explore a few small tide pools along the way. The retreating ocean had left a sampling of creatures in small pools in the rock. She watched a pair of starfish make their slow way across the bottom of one and counted five spiny urchins in the bottom of another.
But, fun as it was to poke around tide pools, she was there to find an otter—to find Gaia. She sat in the mermaid chair and watched the sea. The swells were high. Here in the cove, there was no gradual rise to a sloping beach. The waves smacked into the dark rocks with slaps and booms and shots of foam that rose high in the air.
Miho lov
ed that no two waves ever dashed themselves on the rocks in the same way. She gripped the rocks and laughed at the flying foam. She thought of her father; he would undoubtedly say the “Young Sea” poem.
The sea is never still.
It pounds on the shore
Restless as a young heart,
Hunting.
Miho wished her father were there to say all the cool lines that went between that opening stanza and the last few lines that Miho could still remember.
Let only the young come,
Says the sea.
Let them kiss my face and hear me
I am the last word
And I tell
Where storms and stars come from.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember the name of the poet. Sandbag? Sandflea? She shook her head. Her father always said it, but she couldn’t remember. When she opened her eyes, she saw a school of something, maybe sardines, passing by; a raucous cloud of black-tailed gulls hollered overhead. The gulls took turns diving into the school and lifting back up with a flopping, silver fish caught fast in their beaks.
The fish seemed bunched up on the surface, actually making the water look like it was boiling. When Miho saw a fin break the water, she knew why. The dolphins were back! They were working together below the waves. The dolphins became a team to herd the fish into a ball, push the fish ball to the surface and make it easier to catch and eat them.
Miho stood on the rocky seat and waved out toward the water. She cupped her hand around her mouth and yelled, “Ooooohaayoooooo!” She clapped her hands and kicked off her shoes when she saw the black and gray dorsals turn toward the cove. The white suspenders along the sides of their bodies confirmed that these were her friends from the day before.
She took a deep breath and dove into the cool of the ocean. The five white-sided dolphins crowded around her. She knew what to do! Miho grasped the fin of the one closest to her and, with her hands and arms and back screaming with the soreness from the day before, she found herself pulled off into another wild ride.
In less time than it had taken her to walk to the cove, Miho found they were bending around the end of the peninsula and into Ago-wan. She thought of all the boats that came in and out of the bay and began to worry that they would be seen for sure. But the pod traveled deep into the bay, weaving around the many small, tree-clad islands. They slowed and eventually stopped, bobbing on the surface. Miho looked around and thought, Why are we here?
“Why. Why. Why. You like this word,” a voice said, sounding as clear and fine as the ripple of sun on dolphin skin. Miho spun around and there, reclined on her back as if nothing were easier, was Gaia. “I think you are wondering why you are here,” Gaia said, curling and uncurling her little otter toes a few times.
“Well, yeah. Why here? Why in Ago-wan?”
“There are many things to see here. We will not have to contend with the swell or the boats. It is much easier to see where it is quiet.”
“Huh?” Miho could not understand why it would be easier to see where it is quiet.
Gaia curled her fuzzy body into a ball and disappeared into the dark water of Ago-wan. The dolphins rolled and dove as well. Miho treaded water, cupped her hands around her eyes and tried to peer into the inky depths. Just as she was wondering if she were supposed to follow, Gaia bobbed back to the surface.
She floated on her back and Miho saw that there was something concealed under her dark otter paws. “Use your eyes, dear one. Tell me what you see.” She moved her paws and Miho saw an oyster balanced on her fuzzy chest.
“It’s an oyster, Gaia.” Miho said, wondering if this were some kind of trick question.
“Look closely,” Gaia said, her voice low, almost a whisper. “Look at every detail, every ridge, every curve, every tiny chip. Keep looking until you think you can describe this oyster perfectly.” Miho squinted against the glare of the sun bouncing off the water and stared at the oyster until her eyes began to blur.
“Now,” Gaia continued. “Close your eyes. Can you see the oyster with your mind as well as you can see it with your eyes?”
Miho closed her eyes, focused, and pictured every detail of the oyster. She peeked once to see if what her mind remembered was really the same as the oyster that was still nestled in the thick, gray otter fur. It was.
“I see it, Gaia.”
“Good! Now, keep your eyes closed, keep that image in your mind, and duck your head underwater.”
Miho almost asked why. But she did as Gaia said. She was rocked back as something struck her in the head! She was struck, but there was no pain. It wasn’t like being hit by a hand or a ball. It was…a pulse. It was a force, a wave, an...image?
In her mind, the idea of the oyster she had been looking at was replaced by a whole other kind of image. It was still the oyster, but it now shimmered before her in three dimensions. It had no color, but was so very real! She could see every ridge and dent of the shell, better than she could remember it.
Her eyes flew open, but all she saw was the retreating dark of Ago-wan and the green circle of light above her head. Miho kicked to the surface. Gaia was bobbing there, her dark eyes flashing with the reflected sunlight. “Well?” Gaia asked.
“Gaia…I saw it! But it wasn’t like seeing or remembering, it was…”
The largest dolphin popped in front of her, cutting off her sentence. He placed the rounded end of his snout close to her face and Miho felt another pulse, this one softer. The oyster image that floated up in her mind was also softer, fuzzier. The dolphin turned and dove and Miho was left swimming with questions. “Gaia, is that sonar? I know sonar helps them see underwater, but did he just give me the image?”
“Clever girl! I knew you would know how to listen. The ocean you know is only the skin on the top of a bigger, wider, darker world. In this world of water, your eyes are no good to you. I have given you the power to see with your ears.”
A dorsal fin was pushed into her hand. She reflexively grabbed on and took a deep breath. She was pulled down far enough to have to squeeze her nose and pop her ears. The dolphin came to a stop, hovering in the deep.
One by one, the other four dolphins swam up to her and blasted her mind with the image of the oyster. They looped and swooped, repeatedly passed her by, and pulsed her the image as they had gathered it—except, they had all “looked” at it from different angles. It was like seeing something in a movie, where the camera swung around the object in a circle. Miho felt dizzy from the experience.
And then, the last image she was given was something she hadn’t seen. It was as if the outside of the oyster had been made transparent, and what she “saw” instead was the fleshy, lumpy center. In the folds of the oyster’s meat was a round object. A pearl!
Miho was running out of air and began to exhale. The dolphin took her cue and with one powerful flick of its tail, shot them to the surface with great speed. Miho caught her breath and saw Gaia doing something very otter-like. She balanced a flat rock on her chest, the oyster set upon the rock. In her otter-paws, she clasped a larger, round stone and was bashing away at the oyster. The oyster’s shell fell away with a final crack.
Gaia tossed the oyster meat to one of the dolphins and then held out her paw. In it, sat a shining, whitish-gray pearl; it was enormous, almost like a marble! Miho took it from Gaia. “This is how all pearls used to come from my depths—one-by-one. Now, little Ama, let your teachers help you find some more. This is a good way to learn to use your new eyes.”
And with that, Gaia dove and disappeared into Agowan. The dolphins circled Miho until she was sure that Gaia wasn’t returning. She slapped the surface of the water with her hand and one of the smaller white sides pushed its dorsal fin into Miho’s grip. Down they went.
For the remainder of the morning, the dolphins took her to the bottom of Ago-wan looking for oysters and then sending Miho pictures of what they found. Miho scooped up the few that had pearls in them and made a little pile on a rocky outcropping
.
When she needed to warm up, she climbed out into the hot summer air and set about cracking those oysters open. She ended up with four large, wonderful pearls. She stuffed them deep into her pocket, got back in the water and then looked up to a very distressing sight.
The afternoon ferry was halfway across Agowan—the afternoon ferry that Ojisan said he wanted them to be on! She was very, very late and he was sure to be very, very mad! She looked from the ferry to the shore, her heart racing. She didn’t know how to tell her dolphin friends that she needed to go, and fast. The largest dolphin rolled up alongside her and gazed at her with his large dark eye. He seemed to be waiting.
Since Miho didn’t know what else to do, she slapped her hand on the water. In a flash a dorsal fin was in her hand and she was being pulled. She could tell the dolphins were going back the way they came, around the end of the peninsula. But Miho didn’t have time for that.
She let go and began to kick straight for shore. The dolphins came back and again tried to pull her westward. She again let go and swam toward the docks. Finally, the dolphins didn’t try to take her around. But they were smart; they stayed down, under the water and out of sight as they sped her toward the shoreline.
It grew noisier as they got closer to the boat traffic. The group of lags finally peeled off and headed west, toward the outlet to the sea. Miho kicked hard toward shore and came out of the water on a rocky spit of land.
She hurried toward the ferry launch, wondering if Ojisan would be there, waiting, angry. Maybe he was so mad that he left without her! Miho’s heart was pounding with possibilities. She pulled the four large pearls from her pocket as she walked, rolled them in her palms and wondered if Ojisan might be a little less angry when she showed him what she had found.
It didn’t take long for Miho to see that Ojisan was nowhere around the ferry or the pier. She did see two men talking and gesturing toward her, probably wondering what a little gaijin like her was doing all alone, down by the docks. She couldn’t help it. She stuck her tongue out at those men and then ran up the hill.