Farallon Islands, September 19, 1997
Something terrible has happened. It has to do with Wally, the shark we caught and tagged last season. For a while Max had wanted to try out a new method for tagging he insisted was safe for the sharks and would provide us with a lot more info on each animal. Everything appeared ready—we had a permit to use whale blubber to attract a shark and another permit to capture and tag one. I had pressed Max to use our old tried-and-true method, where the shark remains in the water, but Max wouldn’t listen. He swore he had it all worked out. I had my doubts and should have stood up to him but knew it was pointless. No one knows more than Max. Not me, not anyone. At least in his mind.
What happened next was crushing. Wally ended up biting the baited and barbed hook, which was attached to a buoy. We then pulled him onto an underwater platform and tied him so he could be raised out of the water and we could draw blood, take measurements, and tag him. He was thrashing and pissed but hooked, so there was nothing he could do. A fourteen-inch steel alloy hook is absolutely bulletproof. Unfortunately, Wally bit the buoy and swallowed the hook and we could not get it out of his throat. I stuck my hand in through his gills, trying to wiggle it free, but it was lodged, and eventually we had to leave it in there. I fought to keep my cool, but I was shaking the whole time. All said and done, Wally was out of the water for twenty minutes. Stressed and hurt and scared. I could see it in hisbig, dark orb of an eye. When I glanced over at the Farallon Sanctuary observer, who was there to keep tabs on us, he gave me a solemn shake of his head.
Fast-forward to two days ago when Wally showed up in Fisherman’s Bay with open wounds over his gill slits and along his left jaw. Not only that, but his lower jaw was hanging open, almost as though dislocated. It is obvious he’s not in great shape and is suffering because of our fuck up. Gordon and a biologist from the National Marine Fisheries Service captured some video of him cruising below the boat, so I didn’t get to see him in person, but watching that video made me livid. Max says there is no way of knowing if we did this. It could have been from a run-in with another shark. I say it was us, a hundred percent.
Despite the heartbreak of this incident, here’s what completely unraveled me—yesterday I overheard Max telling the NMFS guy that it was my idea to use this new method of catching the shark. Had I not heard it with my own two ears, I never would have believed it. My boyfriend, my partner, my supposed love, blaming this whole ruinous thing on me. Rather than walking away like I should have, I busted in there calling him a liar and a shark killer and the world’s biggest asshole. I’m sure I came off as hysterical, but I could not contain myself. Max looked me in the eye and said, “You wanted this, Minnow.”
Turns out that’s what narcissists do. They charm you and then mess with your head until you begin to question up from down and left from right. I think deep inside he knows I’ve been contemplating leaving him. His possessiveness has been slowly strangling me. That and the fact that he’s begun to subtly but constantly put me down. I think he sees me and myshark connection as a threat, though to what I’m not sure. Maybe because he’s the revered shark god and he wants me to remain in his shadow forever like a good woman should.
It’s so twisted to think the man who knows me most intimately would blame me for this when he knows how much guilt I am already carrying about my dad. That’s what hurts the most. I have more than enough guilt for one lifetime.
I’m hitching a ride back to San Francisco on a fishing boat tomorrow and doubt I’ll ever come back, not as long as Max is here. I feel shaken and numb but also certain that this is the right thing to do. My departure is long overdue.
Chapter 19
The Statement
Kohola: humpback whale
Minnow and Nalu sat at the bar sipping a rum and coconut drink that the bartender slid in front of them as they read over the menu. Surprisingly, no one else from the meeting had stayed. It was a weeknight and they probably all had long drives and families waiting at home.
“So what did you think?” Nalu asked.
“I have this feeling like I’m drowning. I want to do everything I can to help these sharks and educate people, but it’s really all beyond my control. I wish Joe and the rest of the team were here.”
“Joe said he’d be here next week if things go well, and the rest of the guys get back from the symposium on Friday. But what else are they going to say that you haven’t already said?”
Minnow shrugged. “They’re men, Nalu. And men listen to men.”
“Huh. I never thought about it like that.Ilisten to you, don’t I?”
Because you’re practically still a boy,she wanted to say.
“You do, and I appreciate that.”
He sat up a little straighter. “I promise to keep fighting this with you, whatever it takes.”
“Thanks, Nalu. That means a lot.”
As they waited for their food, every time the waitress—a cute blonde with a spray tan—came by to collect drinks, Nalu said something to her.Why did they get umbrellas on their drinks and we didn’t? Impressive how you balance all those drinks without spilling a drop. Do you ever swim after work, in the moonlight? What’s your name?
Dixie, it turned out.
When Dixie walked to another table, Minnow peered over at him. “Are you evernothitting on some girl or another?”
“I haven’t hit onyou, have I?”
She made a face. “No, thank God. I’m almost old enough to be your mother.”
“Not quite. Aunt maybe but not mother. And I know when someone is off-limits,” he said, pausing to shove a handful of mochi crunch in his mouth. “But look who’s talking. You think I haven’t noticed the way you go all fluttery-eyed when you mention Greenwood?”
She almost spit out her drink. “Please, give me some credit.”
“Why deny it? He kind of has that bad boy thing going, which chicks love. But do you want to hear my thoughts on him?”
Nalu had this way about him that made it hard to be mad at anything he did or said. And he was perceptive, she’d give him that.
