by Lee Welles
The heat of the day was now like a weight on the world. The clouds had piled high and the gusts that came off the sea were wet and weighty. Miho could hear thunder rumbling to the south. A summer storm had been brewing over the cauldron of the ocean and was now speeding toward shore.
When Miho arrived at Ojisan’s, she was surprised to see he was not there! The house was darkened by the storm clouds. She looked all over, worried that he was so mad he had left her. She called his name and felt her throat beginning to tighten with fear. Her eyes threatened tears like the sky threatened rain.
It crossed her mind to call him, but then another thought hit her like the first crack of thunder that announced the storm’s arrival. Her backpack, with her phone, was still down by the mermaid chair!
Not knowing what else to do, she went out the front door and ran down the road to Sensei’s. As she ran, fat drops began to patter the dry, packed dirt of the road, sending up little puffs of dust. Miho ran faster, hoping to get to the store before the storm unleashed the fullness of its energy.
She stepped through the doorway just as the rain let loose with a hiss behind her. Sensei was on his feet, talking to two men: The same two men she had stuck her tongue out at. They turned and one of them yelled something in Japanese. Miho was pretty sure it was, “There she is; that’s the girl!” The other man shot out his left hand and grabbed her by the upper arm! He was yelling too. Miho twisted and pulled and began some shouting of her own!
“Hey! Get off me!” she yelled. Lightning lit the scene in a crazy way and thunder crashed its way through the small store. Miho could feel the man’s hands begin to dig into her pocket…the pocket that held the pearls.
Miho slapped at his searching hand and pulled against his tightening grip. Another crack of thunder ripped the air, as if to accentuate her distress. There was a flash of light. And a flash of wood.
There was another crack, but this one was not thunder. It was the sound of Sensei’s walking stick striking the man who held her! The stick streaked past her face and connected with the man’s ribcage. The man let go of her arm and spun away from her. She saw the long, worn stick flash by again, this time striking the man in the side of his neck.
He hollered, grabbed his neck, and stumbled back into the rain-filled doorway. The other man, the one who had yelled, turned and swung a fist at Sensei. Her teacher pulled back just enough so that the fist barely missed his chin; his face was calm and his step was sure.
Sensei then grasped the punching man’s arm and with no perceivable effort, pulled the man past him. With a flick of the old man’s grip, the punching man flipped over his own arm and landed with a thud, legs piled up against Sensei’s sitting chair. Miho was reminded of the day she first saw him on the beach. Sensei moved without effort, like a flowing dance.
Sensei was still facing the door, but took a gentle step back and placed the end of his walking stick against the downed man’s cheek. Miho was breathless. There was another flash of lightning and it lit Sensei’s wonderful, lined face just as he gave Miho a wink.
24
Like Ama
The man in the doorway was still holding his neck, but began to shake his other fist and yell again. Miho could understand enough to know he was yelling about her. She heard the word “Shinju.” She knew without a doubt, from all the nights she talked to her little stuffed dolphin, that Shinju meant “pearl.”
A shadow came up behind the man. Another flash of lightning made the shadow look twice as big. The man let out a yelp when the shadow reached out and grabbed his shoulder. It was Ojisan!
He tugged the man out into the driving rain and then stepped through the doorway. His wet hair was pasted to his face and the anger that danced across it, ten times more terrible than the rising storm outside. Miho could hear the wind picking up to a howl and was certain that her uncle’s yelling would soon join it.
Sensei took a step away from the downed man, letting him up. He used his walking stick to give the man’s behind a sharp smack and sent him out the door to his companion. He barked something at their retreating backs. Miho had seen enough movies to know this must be Japanese for, “And don’t come back!”
Ojisan and Sensei stared at each other over Miho’s head. The storm grew. The air darkened even more, as if all the unsaid words between the two men were swirling about. Miho held her breath, feeling as if some decision were being made.
Finally, Ojisan looked down at her and asked, in a voice that was more menacing than the thunder that continued to rumble and tumble over the hill, “Miho, do you have pearls in your pocket?”
“Ojisan, I swear I found them! I went to the mermaid chair and there were these dolphins and…”
“SILENCE!” her uncle boomed. Miho almost expected a flash of lightning to follow his command.
He leaned toward her face and hissed, “Baka yameroyo.” Miho scrambled for the translation. Stop acting stupid? Ojisan’s voice again lowered to that dangerous place. He spoke in slow, careful English. “This question require yes or no. I no ask for STORY! Do you have pearls?”
Miho’s bottom lip began to quiver as she dipped into her pocket and drew out the four, large shiny pearls. She heard Ojisan inhale sharply. He looked over her head at Sensei and they had a quick exchange of words. He turned back to Miho. “You take these? You take these from the market, yes?”
“No! Ojisan, I found them! I found them…like Ama.”
His face grew red and Miho couldn’t tell if he was at a loss for words or if there were so many words piling up that he couldn’t speak them all. He reached out, scooped the pearls from her palm and dropped them in his shirt pocket. He continued to glower at Miho and said, “I miss work…again. I hope I have job still! This all your fault.”
“But Ojisan, I was ready to go this morning. You wanted to stay. This is your fault too!”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted them back. She was arguing with the man who had made it very clear that this was not a very Japanese thing to do. She squinted her eyes against what was sure to be a tirade.
But Ojisan didn’t yell. He shook his head and looked at her Sensei. He spoke in Japanese, slowly and carefully, so Miho was sure to understand each word. “I’m going back to Nagoya tomorrow. She is staying here.You want Ama. You have Ama. You want a student. I give you a student. I will come back next week. I will come back only to sell this house and be done with the sea. You decide if she stays in Goza or returns to Nagoya.”
And with that, Ojisan turned on his heel and went out into the rain. Miho was stunned. She kept going back over his words, making sure she had understood them correctly. She looked up at Sensei, who was leaning on his walking stick…smiling.
His smile broke into a grin and the grin gave way to a chuckle. He shuffled back to his chair, used the stick to ease his way down, and then sighed. “Shodo, ashita,” he said, which meant, “Shodo, tomorrow.”
Miho was incredulous. She was getting her wish, staying in Goza, and yet she was miserable. Ojisan didn’t want her anymore! She stared at Sensei, wishing he would say more, tell her what to do. But he didn’t.
Finally, Miho bowed, said goodbye and headed out into the misting rain. Although the storm had passed over Goza and had gone streaking across Ago-wan, the sea was still in a frenzy. The pounding waves filled Miho’s ears as she plodded back to the house she had grown to love as much as any home she had ever known.
This was the house where her mother had grown up, the house where she had learned to love the whales. Goza was the place where Miho herself had met Gaia and had the most exciting time in her young life, traveling and listening to dolphins. Would she end up here, or back in the hot, crowded city?
Miho did not eat. She did not sleep. She sat in her room with Shinju under her chin, listening to the ocean continue to tell the story of the storm to the beach. I am the last word. And I tell where storms and stars come from. She sat and went back over all the events of the past four months. Her life was so diff
erent. She couldn’t have known it would change so much.
When sleep finally pulled her down, her father’s voice rose like a whisper of memory, “The only thing for certain about the sea, is that it will change when you least expect it.”
25
Kimo
The smell of cigarette smoke yanked Miho awake. She flew through the house, out the front door and through the front gate. Fog cloaked Goza. Miho could just make out the silhouette of her uncle, walking eastward, his cigarette a hot, glowing spark in the cold, milky fog.
There was a moment when Miho thought about running after him. She thought about crying and begging not to be left alone. But she remembered that she wouldn’t be alone. She had lessons with Sensei and she could spend all the time she wanted with her white-sided friends. And there was Gaia, who although small, seemed bigger than any grownup she had ever known, even her tall father.
Eating breakfast alone was strange. She fetched Shinju and set the little dolphin across the table, with her good eye facing in, of course. “Do you think he would get in trouble if people knew?” Miho asked. She was fairly sure adults were not supposed to leave children alone. “Maybe he is coming back tonight. Maybe he is just trying to scare me.” The dolphin’s round, plastic eye stared at her, but no answers came.
“Well, I’m NOT scared!” Miho declared. “I’ve been alone lots of times.” She marched out the door with purpose and went down the road to the store and her teacher.
The sea had resumed its normal, low lapping of the beach, looking innocent, as if it hadn’t flung such wild weather at them yesterday. Miho glanced quickly at the horizon, wondering if the pod of lags would be back today, wondering if she could call them back.
Sensei was not in his chair when she entered the store. His daughter gave a tight, polite smile that faded fast and then jerked her thumb toward the back door. Sensei was in the garden, looking at the lotus flowers that floated in the little pond. Miho said “Ohayo,” and bowed.
Sensei rose and asked in Japanese, “What do you need?”
Miho thought maybe she misunderstood his words and asked him to repeat them, slowly. He did and Miho considered his question. What did she need most? Parents! But he couldn’t help with that. She finally decided what she needed most to get through the next few days was courage.
She told Sensei in English. He thought and then said, “Aaah, Kimo!” They went into the classroom and Miho began to prepare her ink. As she pushed her charcoal stick back and forth, she thought about courage. She watched the Hokusai scar on the back of her hand. It was proof that she had been brave before.
But Miho knew she hadn’t really had courage; she had been very scared when she faced that big bull shark. She had been scared, but she had acted anyway. But that had been in a quick moment. What about now?
Sensei drew the kanji for courage, Kimo.
He said, “Shodo will become you. Make Kimo, be Kimo. Repeat, repeat, repeat Kimo kanji, you become Kimo.”
Miho considered this as she practiced the lines. Once Sensei came and placed his hand over hers, showing that you could push down into the paper and lift back out at certain times. Shodo was not just two-dimensional, like writing; it went into and out of the paper too.
She made Kimo over and over and over again. She did it until she didn’t really care what it looked like, just that she felt brave as she made it. Time slid by like a stream and she didn’t notice. She felt safe and sure in that classroom and she wanted to build as much courage as she could.
When Miho’s nose picked up the scent of food, her stomach let out a tremendous growl. She was surprised the morning was gone! A tray had been set in the doorway, a tray with two bowls of steamed rice and vegetables. Miho didn’t know what surprised her more, that the entire morning was gone, or that Sensei’s crabby daughter had done something nice.
They ate in the garden. Sensei didn’t talk, so Miho kept quiet too. The courage kanji swam behind her eyes. She reminded herself that it wasn’t “courage,” it was “kimo.”
Sensei rose, leaned on his staff and spoke slowly, so that Miho could follow his Japanese. “I think you have enough courage to last all day,” he said. “What does this Ama girl want to do with the rest of her day?”
Miho smiled. “I would like to go to Ago-wan and look for the…” she stopped short, realizing she didn’t know the Japanese words for “Pacific white-sided dolphins.” She doubted Sensei would know their scientific nickname, lags. “…look for my friends,” she finished instead.
“Hai,” he said. “Come to your uncle’s for dinner.”
“Domo, Sensei,” Miho said, wanting so much to hug him. But she knew this was not the Japanese way. So she bowed politely and left through the store.
Later, as she clambered down the cliff, she was happy to see her backpack, still safe behind a rock. She squatted down and was surprised to hear a small “Beep!” come from inside!
It was her phone, flashing a text-message at her. “Are you OK?” the message said. It was from Ojisan! She spent the next few minutes figuring out how to get the tiny keys to say, “I am fine.” She almost hit “send,” but decided to add one more thing, “Miss you.”
She stared at the phone after she sent the message. There was an idea bubbling around the back of her mind, like something she had forgotten. But when the idea failed to bubble up, she put the phone back into the pack and climbed down to the mermaid cove.
The day had grown hot, so instead of sitting in the chair, looking at the water, Miho dove right in. She floated on her back, watching small, high cotton puffs of clouds race across the sky. Her ears were underwater and she practiced listening. She was amazed at all she could hear.
There was the smacking of the waves against the rocks, the ever-present, distant chug of diesel engines, the snapping of creatures with claws (Miho didn’t yet know how to tell the difference between shrimp, lobster and crab), and…whistles!
She sat up and scanned the horizon. The pod of lags was coming! Not only were they coming, they were taking turns leaping high out of the water and there were so many more than Miho had seen before. They swarmed into the cove and her skin was alive with the feel of their echolocation. And there was Gaia.
The whiskered face popped up next to her and the otter promptly rolled onto her back, paws poking from the sea. The whole strange combination of creatures bobbed in the waves.
Miho said, “Ohayo, Gaia-san.”
“Ohayo, my dear. Are you ready for more language lessons?”
“Yes! Hai!” She almost added, “Yahoo!” Ever since Gaia had mentioned talking to the minds in the sea, she had waited for this moment. She would be able to continue her mother’s work.
A large dolphin appeared on either side of Gaia. They rolled on their sides and turned their bright, alive eyes on Miho. Gaia said, “First you must listen, learn. Only when you understand their ways, will you be able to speak.” Gaia dove and resurfaced on Miho’s other side. “You must hurry. Things are happening and you will be needed elsewhere.”
And with that, the otter rolled and vanished. Why does she do that? Miho thought. She turned to the dolphin on her right, and said, “She says something incredible and then splits before I can ask a question.”
The dolphin tossed his black-lipped snout in the air and let out a chirp. Miho knew he didn’t understand a thing she said. “Well,” she thought aloud, “Gaia said, listen first.” She made an arching motion with her hand and took a tremendous breath. They dove.
For the next fifteen minutes, Miho was completely focused on getting into rhythm with the group. There were so many of them! She found herself grabbing dorsals she hadn’t seen before. She knew that the lags she had been with the day before must have, somehow, told the other ones what to do. Each fin was different, nicked here, notched there, and with varied amounts of black, white and gray. This was the way people like her parents and Mr. Hernandez did their research, learning the individual marks of each whale or dolphin and giving them a
name or number.
When they broke the surface for their fast grab of air, Miho saw the flash of white stripes in the air. They traveled fast and many of the group leapt clear out of the water as they snatched their life-giving breath. Mr. Hernandez had told her they breathed this way when they were moving fast. There was less resistance by leaving the water completely than by rolling through it. “It’s all about the hydrodynamics,” he had said. He had waved his hands around in that animated way of his as he talked about drag and timing and the marvelous design of dolphins. Miho had only understood about half of what he said, but loved the way he got excited when he talked about it.
And now she was experiencing it firsthand. If Mr. Hernandez could see me now! The distraction of indulging her memory caused her to miss the next dorsal grab and she was left bobbing as scores of lags whizzed by her.
A small, high, “poof ” startled her. It was one of the babies! The little lag seemed so small after being with the big strong adults. It swished its head from side to side and Miho could feel the sonar. It was “looking” at her. Miho smiled and wished she could say, “Hello” or “Ohayo” in some dolphin way.
Its mother came up on the other side of Miho and also floated on the surface. Miho realized what an honor it was for a female dolphin to allow another creature to come between her and her child. She barely had time to snatch a breath when a larger, hooked dorsal was thrust into her hand.
Finally the group slowed down. Three adults surrounded Miho; the rest peeled away and dove. It seemed the lesson was about to begin. She clasped the notched dorsal of the one next to her and down they went, down into the sun-dappled world below.
They hung about 10 feet down. Miho felt the familiar knock in the head as an image of a dolphin was passed to her. Then she felt three quick smacks and heard a kind of click, whistle combination. The three images were each of a dolphin, its tail in a different position—as if swimming.