Wish

by Joseph Monninger

  TOMMY SHARK FACT #7: Probably the most famous shark-attack victim is a guy named Rodney Fox. The attack occurred in Australia, south of Adelaide, during a spear-fishing tournament off Aldinga Beach. Fox sustained bites on his arm and chest area. He fought back by sticking his fingers in the shark’s eyes and cut his hand on the shark’s mouth in the process; during a second attack, Fox managed to fend the shark off by grabbing the animal’s snout. Running out of air, Fox tried to make it to the surface, but the shark bit a dead fish attached to Fox’s belt. The shark dragged Fox across the sea bottom before finally releasing him.

  The injuries Fox sustained were massive. The shark fractured all the ribs on Fox’s left side, collapsed his lung, jabbed through his scapula, and uncovered his spleen. Fox nearly died from blood loss. Some experts say his wet suit saved him by keeping the organs in place. Doctors administered 462 stitches. Part of the great white’s tooth is still embedded in Fox’s wrist.

  The coolest thing about Fox from Tommy’s standpoint is that Fox became one of the world’s leading defenders of great whites. Instead of going on a quest to kill sharks, Fox opened a great white dive business and serves as a consultant and speaker about sharks. He is an advocate for shark education and shark awareness, which is what Tommy believes in, too.

  Fox went back in the water less than a half year later. Tommy says Fox is tougher than anyone.

  We got to sleep around two in the morning. Tommy should have been exhausted, but the boys pumped him up and sassed him and he loved it. They even joked when he was on the chest massager, making him say words so that his voice was garbled and came out like the Terminator’s. They made him recite “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” then say I’ll be back, then Here’s Johnny from The Shining. I would have stopped them there, but then they made him suck in helium from a balloon a friend got at the mall, and Tommy had to say a bunch of lines from Anchorman while they all doubled over. Tommy was a star, at least for the time being, and when he said I’ll wear sex panther, which was one of the lines from Anchorman, the boys could hardly control themselves.

  I had to fight hard not to interfere, not to make everyone go easier on him. Guys kept piling into the house and then leaving, and a few girls swung by, too. The group could have gone another way, heading to the skate ramp or finding something else to do, but Ty and Little Brew kept Tommy in the center. Tommy started to nod off a few times, but they wouldn’t let him. They threw pillows at him if he faded and eventually he got a second wind.

  After everyone left, it was just the four of us sitting on two beat-up couches. Ty and Little Brew talked about what it was like to be out on a board in big waves, to feel the whole world lift and begin to carry you forward, knowing the wave had come all the way from the Aleutians in Alaska, that it had run a couple thousand miles just to throw its guts against the California shore. Nothing like it, they said. Nothing as sweet. They rode big boards—guns, they were called—and once you headed down a wave that size, fifty feet of water, the top just turning a little in a horse mane, and then the slow arch, the crack that came as you shot down the wave face and began to cut, it was beyond words. And when the waves caught you, as they inevitably did, then that was something, too, something weird and otherworldly, because you were dragged below, your board yanking at your hip socket, the bottom sometimes hitting you, trying to detain you, and part of you didn’t know which way was up. But you held your breath and let the waves churn you. You couldn’t fight. You had to give in, to face your fate, and except for every once in a great while, the board brought you up and you had no problem. Nowadays they had Jet Skis that shot in to help you, Jet Skis that could ride over the biggest waves, mostly, and pull you to safety, running parallel to the beach until you escaped the surf wash. Sometimes you just lay on your board afterward and coughed your ribs out; other times you felt ready to go again. And sometimes, though rarely, you realized you needed to quit for the day because the sea felt too hungry. You had to get out of there and head back to land.

  Tommy had been listening intently. Then in a soft, late-night voice, he said that when the air wouldn’t come into his lungs, he would imagine being able to breathe through his eyes, or to suck in air through his skin, the way he thought frogs could, which made him feel like an amphibian. Then none of us said anything. We sat and listened to the wind pick up outside, and finally Ty and Little Brew headed to bed. They slapped five with Snow Pony. And Tommy and I went to sleep feet to feet on the couch, Tommy’s smelly socks carrying the whole day’s heat with them, his breath ragged and heavy and never quite full.

  COLUMBUS DAY

  “Shhh,” someone whispered. “Bee? You awake?”

  I sat up. I didn’t know where I was. Then I saw Little Brew bending over the couch. He had an armful of blankets. He wore a Windbreaker and an absurd pair of earmuffs. The band of the earmuffs held back his hair.

  “Want to see some shooting stars?” he whispered.

  “Where?” I asked, not quite awake.

  “Just out in the back. We have an old tree house.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Around three-thirty. It’s Columbus Day.”

  I swung my legs off the couch. Little Brew handed me a sweatshirt and a Windbreaker. The sweatshirt smelled like him. Then he grabbed my hand and led me through the dark living room. A light in the vent above the stove kept the kitchen dull and quiet. He took back the Windbreaker as I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. The sweat shirt said Big Waves. I told him to wait a second, then I ducked into the bathroom off the kitchen and washed my face. I squeezed soap onto my finger and brushed my teeth. It tasted horrible but it was better than night-zombie breath.

  “Where are we going?” I asked again when I came out.

  “Just in the backyard. You’ll be able to hear Tommy if he needs you.”

  “He’ll be fine. He has his inhaler next to him. He used it right before he went to sleep.”

  I followed him into the yard. We walked across the belly of the skateboard half-pipe. He wore flip-flops. They made funny duck sounds against his heels. When we reached a grove of oak trees, he kicked out of his flip-flops and began climbing up an aluminum ladder propped against a tree. I followed him. When I made it up about ten feet, I saw the platform—about the size of two picnic tabletops bolted together—that had been built between two trees. Little Brew showed me where to put my hands to pull myself up over the edge. He made sure I was settled before he let me go.

  “I’m a sky nerd,” he said, bending down in the darkness next to a plastic box. “I’m into the stars. Do you like any of that stuff?”

  “I’ve never really looked at the stars.”

  “Well,” he said, lifting a telescope out of the box and setting it up on a small tripod, “it’s a little early in the season for the Perseids, but it’s a new moon so we should be able to see some of the Orionids. I just like looking up.”

  “Awesome. Did you guys build this?”

  “When we were smaller. With Dad, actually. We don’t really use it anymore. It’s just a place to get away from the house. I keep my telescope out here in this box. The platform gives you a little elevation, so you can see out toward the ocean more.”

  “Do you do this a lot?”

  “Often enough. Here,” he said, reaching down and handing me a blanket. “If you’re cold.”

  “I’m from New Hampshire,” I said. He laughed and took the blanket back and tossed it onto the platform.

  “Right,” he said, and went back to fiddling with the telescope. He looked through the eyepiece and began adjusting knobs. “I’m a member of an amateur group. I don’t know why I like doing it, but I do. A friend of my dad’s lives in the Sierra Madres and he has a big telescope. I go up there once or twice a year. He’s a star geek, too.”

  “I think it’s great.”

  “Sky surfing,” Little Brew said. “That’s what Ty calls it. I don’t sleep all that great so I need something to do at night. Do you want to take a look? I think I’v
e got it now.”

  My eyes had adjusted, but it was still dark on the platform. Little Brew gave me his hand and I stepped across and bent to the eyepiece. It took me a second to get my vision to work through the telescope. I saw a large white dot with three dashes near the center.

  “That’s Jupiter,” he said, “and some of the moons.”

  “Amazing.”

  “It’s not much through a small telescope like this. This is just a low-end Meade. The one at my dad’s friend’s is amazing.”

  “I’m happy with this,” I said, pulling back from the telescope, glancing at him, then looking through the lens again. “Thank you for showing me the stars.”

  “I’m glad,” he said. “I thought you might like this.”

  “You make me want to look skyward more.”

  “The Hubble telescope is sending back unbelievable stuff,” he said when I straightened. He bent past me to look at Jupiter again. “You can see it online. It’s weird, because I don’t think most people care. It’s like living at a time of exploration and you get to go along with the explorers, and some people can’t even be bothered to look.”

  “Guilty,” I said.

  “I didn’t mean you,” he said quickly and looked up. “Honestly, I didn’t. I meant all the media and all the stupid reports about movie stars and reality show junk. You have this incredible thing going on and all anyone reads about or watches on television is whether some star is getting a divorce or a belly tuck.”

  “I see what you mean.”

  He looked at me and smiled. Then he kissed me. Just like that. It happened so suddenly I didn’t quite believe it. I didn’t even have time to lift my arms up toward him. Just our lips touched and I felt ready to tip over and fall out of the trees.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, pulling back. “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.”

  “I don’t mind,” I said.

  He kissed me again. Then I kissed him. Jupiter threw whiteness through the eyepiece, like the tiniest light in the world trying to find someplace to rest.

  “Your mom keeps calling me,” Ty said, pouring me orange juice into a glass. “She kept it up half the night. She’s like a stalker woman. The thing kept buzzing on my dresser.”

  For two guys living together, the kitchen was remarkably clean. Little Brew had gone upstairs and Tommy was still asleep. A few cars started outside and a blue jay screeched at something, probably a cat. Someone drove by with rap music going, the bass pounding.

  “Sorry about my mom,” I said. “She’s just trying to reach Tommy.”

  “I don’t answer but she doesn’t stop.”

  “She’s angry and hurt and she’s trying to prove she’s a concerned mom. It’ll stop when we meet up with her. I’ll call her after the surfing, anyway.”

  “That’s a relief,” Ty said.

  We had bagels and butter and strawberry jelly. We also had tea with sugar and plenty of cream. I felt sleep slowly peeling off me, but I wasn’t ready to think about Little Brew and our star watching. Not yet. Besides, the sun looked bright and ready. Ty had already made a couple calls to check on conditions. The surf shoot was on. The waves, he said, had been clocked at about thirty feet. The camera crew planned to be there at noon for the best shooting light.

  “So what about you, Bee?” Ty asked, sitting across from me. “We haven’t really talked about anyone but Tommy. You keep your cards pretty close to your chest.”

  “I don’t mean to,” I said. “It’s just the way it goes.”

  “You want to go to college and all that?”

  “Dartmouth,” I said. “That’s my goal. If not Dartmouth, then another Ivy. But Dartmouth is my first choice.”

  “That means you’re a good student,” Ty said, biting into his bagel. “Honor roll?”

  “Pretty much. I’m a bit obsessive about details. If a teacher assigns something, I get it done. I usually get it finished a few days early. I can’t help it.”

  “And going to Dartmouth will keep you close to Tommy.”

  “That, too,” I said. It was true that I didn’t want to be far from my brother. But this trip was making me see that possibilities existed.

  “What else do you like to do? For fun, I mean.”

  “Hang with friends, mostly,” I said. “I like movies a lot. Old black-and-white movies from the thirties and forties. Film noir. IMDb is my favorite Web site. I’m always on it. I know, it’s odd.”

  “No it isn’t,” Ty said. “It’s actually pretty cool.”

  “I like the styles. The women’s dresses and things. And the guys all wear suits. It’s kind of like a fantasy, only better because it existed. People really did wear those clothes. So that’s my dirty little secret.”

  “How about career stuff?”

  “I thought of being a veterinarian for a while. But now I’m thinking of being a doctor. I like the sciences.”

  “I like the sciences, too,” Ty said. “I went to UCLA for marine biology, but then I switched to film. It’s a cliché to go to UCLA for film, but that’s what I did.”

  “And this filming today? Is that what you do professionally?”

  “Yeah, I have a company called Break Dog,” he said, taking a sip of tea and wiping his mouth. “We make loops of extreme outdoor activities. Boarding, skiing, surfing, motocross, and trick riding. That kind of stuff. We sell subscriptions to places that want a young crowd. They play the loop until it becomes stale or the season changes, then we send them a new one. Eventually I want to do full-length feature films, but this pays the rent right now.”

  “It’s a cool concept.”

  “Not a real moneymaker, though, but it gives me clips to show people. A way to build the résumé. I like the editing process. Maybe I’ll end up being a film editor. Hard to say.”

  “Things have a way of working out,” I said.

  He leaned forward a little. And when he spoke, he lowered his voice.

  “You think Tommy made you want to be a doctor?” he asked.

  “Probably. But maybe I’ll change my mind. Do something unexpected.”

  “You’ll be a doctor,” Ty said. “Or not. But you’ll excel at whatever you choose to do.”

  I liked Ty, and he was awfully good-looking, but he felt like a big brother. Someone who could mow the grass in front of you without getting into your face. Someone who could also bring over about a thousand good-looking friends. I knew my girlfriends, Jill and Marcie and Maggie, would go nuts over California guys. Cali boys weren’t like the ones in New Hampshire. They seemed a lot more relaxed and didn’t show off as much. Plus, a lot of them had athletic bodies. I figured it was because they were outside doing things all the time.

  “You okay with Tommy going out in the surf today?” Ty asked when he had finished half his bagel. “You don’t think it’ll be too much, do you?”

  “If he goes under, he won’t be able to catch his breath.”

  “I know,” Ty said. “We’re going to take an easy wave and he’s going to ride on my back. We’ll have the Jet Ski at the ready to scoop him up.”

  “It scares me,” I said. “I’ll be honest. But it’s the biggest thing to ever happen to him.”

  He nodded.

  “I’d never deliberately put him at risk,” Ty said. “I love that kid.”

  “I know you do,” I said, lowering my voice a little in case Tommy was awake in the next room. “Getting to meet you has meant everything. You don’t even know.”

  “He didn’t like that boat trip, did he?” he said, matching the level of my voice. “He didn’t say much when I asked him about it, but I could tell. When he e-mailed that his wish was to dive with great whites, I got worried. I figured it would be kind of touristy. Nothing wrong with diving with great whites, but it’s not what he’s about, exactly. It just didn’t seem a match.”

  “He needed this,” I said, gesturing around me. “He needed you guys, the way you are. He needed that.”

  “I like hanging with him. H
e never complains.”

  “Never,” I confirmed, feeling my throat tighten.

  Ty nodded. He finished his bagel before I had finished half of mine. He tidied up and stacked some dishes in the dishwasher. Little Brew came into the kitchen as Ty sat down to sip more tea. Ty glanced at both of us, nodded at something he observed, then lifted his mug. Little Brew passed behind me on the way to the stove, and his hand trailed softly across my shoulders.

  After he woke up and had a bagel, Tommy spent an hour with the vest, and this time the guys let him sit quietly. They understood he needed to be in the best shape possible for surfing. Tommy sat and watched television, his arms out, his chest sounding gummy and loose. Ty made last-minute phone calls, lining up elements of the shoot and confirming which friends would be surfing. Little Brew grabbed me and brought me outside to pack the van.

  “It was nice last night,” he said, lifting a surfboard onto the roof rack. I held the back end while he pushed it forward. “Are you cool with Tommy knowing we like each other?”

  “Sure. I think he already knows.”

  “I like you, Bee. I wish you lived closer.”

  “So do I.”

  He climbed up on the bumper and used ratchet straps to tie down the board. Then we grabbed another board and carried it over to the back of the van. This one felt heavier and denser.

  “Lots of girls around here are into the malls and all that ridiculous stuff,” he said. “You’re not like that.”

  “Well, to be fair, we don’t even have a mall in my part of New Hampshire.”

  “That’s what I mean,” he said. “I’ve never met an Eastern girl before.”

  Then he asked me to push the back of the surfboard harder while he guided it into place. He climbed onto the bumper and used a second ratchet strap to tie it down. We had four boards piled on top and a bunch of gear—wet suits, cameras, life jackets, and so on—jumbled in the back of the van. He had to wrestle the last board into place twice before he was finally satisfied with it. By the time he jumped down, Ty came out and joined us.