Shallow Breath (15 page)
T
he first time Desi hears of Connor’s daughter it is September 1992. They have been on the boat in Monkey Mia for almost eight months, but Desi has always known that this time is finite; that, along with Connor’s work visa, the money for the study will run out, and Connor will have to return to America in order to write grant proposals begging for more funds. But all these facts have settled into a dormant corner of her mind, because if she doesn’t believe in them, perhaps she can keep them from being true.
On the day it all changes, Desi gets up early, as usual. While Connor collects their equipment, it is her job to swim to the boat, moored a hundred metres out in deeper water, and bring it in to the small jetty so they can load up. Sometimes on this swim she is accompanied by the shore-bound dolphins, who all seem to relish this morning race, staying by her side until they get close to the vessel, then streaking ahead as though to show her how slowly they had deigned to travel. But when she gets
in the water today it is just Nicky, one of the beach regulars, who glides across. The dolphin seems unusually restrained, swimming beside Desi until they reach the little ladder, then hanging there watching her. Desi pauses for a moment in the water before climbing up, a strange vibration running through her body. As soon as it stops, Nicky turns away.
Desi is excited – she’s heard about dolphins buzzing people while doing body scans, their acoustic senses able to see through people like an x-ray, but this is the first time she has ever experienced it.
She climbs onto the boat, and looks across the water towards the shore. It is one of her favourite times, this hush of early morning, with one or two lingering pink streaks in the sky. Nicky has rejoined the others now, heading to the front of the group. She is an unusual dolphin, often being found alone at sea, but seems to be one of the most confident with humans. She will glide into the shallows until her fins poke out of the water and her belly brushes the sand. Then she will tilt on her side, one eye peering upwards, coasting along the line of people, appraising them as they watch her.
A few people are already gathered at the shoreline, eyes fixed on the dolphins who wait close to the jetty. Desi can hear the
pfff-pffff
of each of their sighing breaths as they exhale loudly into the tranquil air. At first, Desi had loved being there when they visited, but, along with the rest of the long-termers, her concern for their safety has grown. The beach-bound dolphins seem to be losing their calves far more often than they should, and talk has been about whether the growing tourist numbers are contributing. ‘We’re encouraging lazy mothers,’ Desi has heard one scientist say. And Connor seems bothered too. ‘They’ve already had their problems to contend with here. And a special place like this can come with a price. Out of all the
studies of dolphins who have had close contact with humans, it is astonishing how often it ends badly for the dolphin.’
Since he said that to her, she has not been able to witness the dolphins gather each morning and reconjure the same peace as when she first saw them. Instead, the more she has come to know them, the more she burns with worry for their wellbeing.
She sees Connor striding down the jetty, two boxes of equipment in his hands, and guides the boat across.
‘I think Nicky buzzed me this morning!’ she says, after she has thrown him the ropes.
‘Yeah?’ he replies, as he ties up and begins to hand things over, but he isn’t really listening. He seems more and more distracted now, talking of little else except the project. In the evenings, as well as reviewing the data, he is beginning to draft a paper in the hope it will lead to more funding. At times, he speaks to Desi as though she is on the review committee – justifying what he’s done, and outlining the discoveries he’s made. He is finding it more and more difficult to focus exclusively on echolocation, since it is becoming clear that to do so is to isolate sounds from what he calls the ‘communication culture of dolphins’. When he first came up with the phrase, he had explained it to her excitedly. ‘When you talk to me, I don’t just listen to your words – I recognise your tone, and I study your posture. I “read” as much as I can to learn the details of what you’re trying to communicate. A lot of our communication isn’t even verbal. For example, if I do this’ – and he had leant forward and given her a short, intense kiss – ‘then we communicate with no words needed. Dolphins do something similar – their “noiseless” communication is made up of things like belly rubbing for greetings, or touching pectoral fins for reassurance. At first, I wanted to stay out of the water so I didn’t disturb their natural behaviours, but now I want to get in. I want to come up
with a new scientific method of studying and integrating these different forms of communication – then we can build a broader picture of the whole thing.’
Whenever he talks, his enthusiasm is infectious, but today, as they load up, he is solemn and hardly says a word. As soon as everything is on board, they set off out into the open waters of Red Cliff Bay, and it’s instantly clear that the sea is much choppier than usual. And something happens to Desi that has never occurred before. Seasickness. She heaves over the side and immediately feels much better. She remembers Pete coping with that all day, and wonders how he managed.
She begins to scan the water, binoculars in hand, while Connor skippers the boat. Sections of the bay are so shallow that it is easy to run aground, and they have had some scary near misses. However, this also means that, when they do find dolphins, the clear water keeps their subjects close to the surface, and makes their research a lot easier. And they don’t just see dolphins. As well as copious fish there are turtles and rays, and sometimes, if they’re lucky, a dugong or a shark.
It takes much longer than usual to find the dolphins today, and in that time the ocean goes from restless to strangely subdued, until it is a pond with barely a ripple. The air soaks up the stillness, turning muggy and dense. The heat is exhausting, but Desi keeps on scanning the surface, waiting. Sooner or later, something will appear.
Eventually, she spots two dolphins in the distance, huddled together. As they draw a little closer, Desi squints through the binoculars. It is Sparkle and Storm, two of the bay inhabitants who don’t come to shore, and they are struggling to keep something afloat. Concentrating hard, Desi realises it is a motionless infant, so newborn that she can make out its foetal folds, the dark horizontal bands that cross-section its
body, which were moulded as it lay curved in the womb. It is completely still, and appears to be already dead. One dolphin now carries it on its back, and the other one stays close by.
They switch off the engine and lower the hydrophone. Connor puts the headphones on, and Desi grabs her handheld dictaphone. They synchronise their recording times, and begin observations.
‘Listen,’ Connor says, unplugging the headphones for a second so that Desi can hear via the speakers. Through the water comes a clear whistle of paired notes, the first a sharp, rising call, and the second falling down from the high note. It sounds urgent. It is the call of distress. Desi has heard something similar once before – from an unknown dolphin who came into the bay one morning a few months earlier. His suffering had been clear as he whistled repeatedly from the shallows. Various people had entered the water and tried to assist, but there was nothing visibly wrong. He had stayed close by the whole day, and washed up dead the next morning. CALM had taken the body for autopsy, and found a tight ball of netting in his stomach.
The event had caused a lot of talk among the scientists, because the animal appeared to know that humans might help, even though he had never visited the bay before.
As they watch, two more dolphins appear, racing over to assist the first pair. Desi sees that it’s Holey Fin and her daughter Joy. Now there are four, all pressing close together as they work at keeping the baby afloat. And once help has arrived, the whistles stop.
Connor and Desi stay with them for the whole day. After a few hours, Holey Fin and Joy swim away. The remaining pair continue to work hard, their regular, tired exhalations suggesting the extent of their exertions. Finally, towards dusk, Storm dives, and doesn’t resurface. For another hour, only
Sparkle remains, the dead newborn still balanced on her back.
They observe her in silence as the sun dips lower and lower, and night begins to bruise the sky. When it is almost dark, they hear a sudden, short whistle. In response, Sparkle dives, the baby disappearing with her.
Everything is quiet. After a day where the hydrophone has been full of clicks and whistles, all they can hear is gurgling water and the unidentified fizzing, squeaking and popping of the invisible world beneath them.
Connor switches the equipment off, and they are both silent for a while. Desi leans across the rail, staring out at the empty space where the dolphins had been. It feels as though she has witnessed something profound, but she cannot articulate the extent of it.
‘Shall we sleep on the boat tonight?’ Connor asks. ‘We have enough food.’
It seems apt, somehow, to stay out here alone and not return to a campsite of cooking noise and happy chatter. Desi never gets a good sleep when they do this, but she loves it anyway. The sea is surprisingly busy overnight, with the sounds of sloshing and splashing all around them, mixed with the sporadic lingering sighs of a dolphin’s breath. It was on one of these occasions that she and Connor had made love for the first time. She had closed her eyes, lost in sensation, and afterwards they had gazed up at the Milky Way, a clear brushstroke across the star-speckled night. She had felt infinitesimally small, yet replete with life.
But tonight, as they get blankets and settle down on the deck, their view is patched with cloud, and the atmosphere is too sombre for them to make love.
‘That was unbearably sad,’ Desi says eventually.
‘That was strangely beautiful,’ Connor replies. He sits up. ‘Science seems such a little thing sometimes, don’t you reckon,
when you compare it to the bigger, independent truth of what’s going on out there.’
‘Do you think they were trying to save it?’
‘Possibly. I’ve seen studies on captives where they expended efforts for days assisting others who were injured. So perhaps it was that… or perhaps they were grieving. Spending time in vigil with the body of a dead family member, like the elephants do.’
He puts an arm around her, and pulls her close.
‘Des, we need to talk. I’m going to run out of money soon. We’ll have to leave next week, I think, and start driving back.’
Her heart plummets. ‘Okay.’ She is glad he can’t see her face, as she plucks up courage to ask what she’s been thinking. ‘Could you not stay and apply for grants here?’ she ventures. ‘I could help you sort through all your data.’
She feels him tense. ‘It’s not that simple. Besides … there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’ He pauses. ‘I have a daughter, in America. Her name is Katherine – we call her Kate.’
Desi is shocked. ‘Oh. I see.’ She sits up and hugs her knees.
‘She’s five years old. Her mother and I met at college – we had her very young, and we’re not together, but Elizabeth is still a good friend.’
‘Why are you telling me this now?’
‘Because there’s never been a good time before. Because I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about it, or for it to interfere with the study, or us. And because I didn’t want you to think I was a selfish jerk – leaving her for all this time. It’s … not ideal, I realise that. But it won’t be forever, and she’s surrounded by family who love her.’
All she hears is that
it won’t be forever
. What does he mean by that?
‘You are coming back, aren’t you?’ she asks, forcing each tremulous word.
He reaches out and strokes her hair as the moon peeps out momentarily before the clouds recapture it. ‘Yes, of course. I have to – for the dolphins, and for you.’
She tries to read his eyes in the fleeting light, but she can barely see them. Had he noticed the way he had declared his priorities? Suddenly she is full of misgivings. Unwilling to let this moment go, in case it never returns.
K
ate’s memories of her mother are synonymous with nighttime. Later she realised that was because Elizabeth had worked seven days a week, either studying or supporting them both. She usually arrived home in the twilight, in time to snuggle with her daughter in one of their big bay windows and read stories before bed.
Every night, before Kate climbed onto the padded seat, they would go across to the dresser. On the lacquered surface, a band of polished brown elephants were on permanent migration. During the day, they were set out single file, the matriarch leading the pack and the bull bringing up the rear. But when the day was over, and the golden lamplight shone like an evening’s soft sun on the mukwa wood, Kate would push them together, and draw the babies close to their mothers. The bull would take his place at the front, for protection. Then she would say good-night to them, touching them one at a time and calling them by name. Mali. Nkeche. Laka. Bululu. Mwana. And afterwards, if
she was lucky, her mother would tell her their story.
‘There was once a family of five naughty elephants,’ Elizabeth would begin, pointing at the ornaments on her dresser, and Kate would giggle, cuddling closer. ‘And their favourite food was maize and bananas. Unfortunately, the African savannah was sorely lacking in these treats, so where do you think they would go?’
‘To the village!’
‘That’s right. But, understandably, the villagers didn’t appreciate the elephants eating all their crops. And while the elephants were very clever at getting across fences and stealing, they weren’t so great at sharing. So eventually the villagers got really, really fed up, and they put up these nasty things called snares. And the next time the elephants came, little Mwana got caught in one and hurt her foot pretty badly.’
‘Poor Mwana.’
‘Yes, poor Mwana. And the other elephants became very distressed, and refused to leave Mwana. It was a difficult situation, because if the elephants or the villagers ran out of patience with one another, either side could easily get hurt. But fortunately the villagers called a local man named Bullo, who ran an elephant sanctuary. The only problem was that it was over forty kilometres away, and there was only one truck available to take five elephants. No one could figure out what to do. But then one clever lady came up with an idea.
‘All the elephants were tranquilised while Mwana’s wound was treated, and then baby Mwana was loaded onto a van. Now, when Mwana’s mother, Mali, woke up, she was very upset to find her baby on a truck. She bellowed, but before she could charge after the truck, the truck began to move. This was a dangerous moment for everyone – the elephants could have stampeded and badly hurt the people in the truck. Or they
could have refused to come at all. But, as everyone had hoped, Mali began to follow the truck, and the other elephants fell in behind Mali. The truck took them all the way to an elephant sanctuary, which was a big area with a fence all around it to stop them getting out and into more trouble. The villagers were thankful, and the elephants lived happily ever after.’
‘And you lived happily ever after too?’
Elizabeth would squeeze Kate closer. ‘I did.’
But one evening, when Kate was nearly six years old, Elizabeth had avoided telling the story. Instead, they had raced through a boring picture book, and then Kate had been hurried to bed. Once she was lying there, Elizabeth said sadly, ‘Listen, honey, I have to go away for a week or so.’
Kate had touched her mother’s pale face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ Elizabeth had whispered, kissing her and leaning down to gather her in tight for a moment. ‘Nana will be here all the time. I’ll be home as soon as I can.’
That night, Kate had tried to feign sleep, sure that her mother would creep in again sometime later and readjust the covers on the bed, as she always did, making sure Kate was warm. But she was simply too tired to keep watch. When she woke up, a cold, empty light had already pushed its way through the windows, and she hastily got up to check her mother’s room, to make sure she hadn’t dreamt the goodbye.
Elizabeth’s bed was neatly made. On the dresser, the elephant family had been moved. The four larger elephants had been arranged in a circle, facing outward, the smallest baby hidden in the centre. Kate went across, hesitated, but left them that way. She didn’t understand, but she would ask her mother about it when she came home.
Kate lies in her tent on the western edge of Australia, listening beyond the dunes to the incessant lisp and rasp of the ocean, thinking of her mother. Each memory is a treasure to cling to. Whenever the details grow hazy, she goes over them obsessively, repainting blurred edges, trying to remember the colours, the sounds, the smells, the exact tone of her mother’s voice. But she has been doing this for so long now, forcing this vividness, that these recollections are overlaid with the stories she has told herself. She can rarely conjure them spontaneously any more.
When Kate discovered the truth about her parents, she had been angry with them for putting other things in life ahead of her. While Nana Jacobs had been understanding, she had not allowed Kate’s resentment to go unchecked. ‘I think that, if you take something from their example, it should be about following your passion,’ she’d said. ‘I don’t think either of them would have gone anywhere had they imagined they wouldn’t get to come home to you. I think they were trying to make their treasured corners of the world a little better. They wanted to preserve the things they knew were beautiful, so that not only you but your children will get to experience them.’
And now she has lost Nana Jacobs too. Kate is not sure what she believes about the afterlife, but maybe, just maybe, they are all together and watching her somewhere. What would they think of the decisions she has made recently? She hopes they would understand.
Jackson’s mention of White Wave has shaken her to the core. Why does it feel as though she betrayed them? The charity had seemed like her salvation for a long time. When her grandparents had told her the truth, life had slipped from its moorings. Nothing she had planned for the following year felt right any more. She did everything her family most feared she would do: she deferred her studies and ran away while she tried
to come to terms with this sudden shift in her history.
She travelled to Thailand – somewhere neither of her parents had been – in an attempt to escape their ghosts for a little while. The south was still struggling to get on its feet after the Boxing Day tsunami, and when she heard of White Wave she instantly loved the idea. It was a way to make life meaningful again. For a while it had been redemptive, but the more she got involved, the more she began to see the politics, the bureaucracy, the endless red tape and the misappropriated funds. On almost every project, she witnessed cultural clashes and a slow erosion of values, which were replaced by the desire to keep heads down, do the job, chalk it up as a victory and then get out. Did all waves turn murky in the end, she began to ask herself, with the detritus of their journey? Even waves of kindness, of wanting to do the right thing?
It was obvious there were others who felt the same way. People began to meet in offshoot groups, to discuss different ideas and objectives. Other plans were formed, some more radical than others. And, perhaps inevitably, she was drawn to one particular alliance: those who thought that helping the wildlife was an integral part of helping the community. They were generally in the minority, but they were probably the most passionate group of all. And that’s how she got to know Lexie, Adam, Nick and Carl.
She doesn’t want to think of them – it still hurts terribly. She needs to sleep. But if she does, the dream will come again. The one where she stands at the top of a tall tower as the white tide gets sucked back, and back, until it’s beyond the horizon. Where she’s left staring into a deepening valley she’d never known was there, at the dropping void of exposed rock, sand and coral, watching thousands of flapping, fitting fish. And where she hears the defiant roar of water again before she can
see it, before it charges towards her faster than she can run, transfigured into a solid black wall of oblivion.
She knows it is only a dream. Even though she wasn’t there, she understands it wouldn’t have been like this. But still, she’s seen the footage – the shallow pools of water, the relentless roll of the tide, the stick figures and toy cars and houses gathered up and obliterated by the charging fury of water. She wishes she could stop thinking in metaphors – she understands that tectonic plates slowly wear each other down, to the point that one of them has to give in and shift, and the sea’s response to an earthquake is as reflexive as fingers jumping away from a flame. But it doesn’t stop the same dream from coming each night, and terror flooding her until she bolts awake, shaking. Will it stop when all this is over? God, she hopes so.
They were meant to be in Iwate Prefecture together, but Carl had some last-minute business to attend to, and Kate was running late after her unexpected trip back to America. So on 11 March 2011, she had been stepping out of a taxi in central Tokyo, heading for the train station and Iwate, when the warning sirens went off and people began to run. The driver hauled her with him into a building, but it was her ailing grandmother who had saved her life, because she had been the reason for Kate’s hasty visit to San Francisco.
In the weeks that followed, she had seen the events in Iwate on the television. She had watched the water racing greedily over the land, swallowing everything in its path. Kate and Carl had tried to reach Lexie, Adam and Nick by all means available to them. But there was never an answer. The three of them had been staying at a small guesthouse close to the harbour. The guesthouse definitely wasn’t there any more. Neither were many other buildings within a ten-kilometre radius.
However hard she tried not to, she found herself imagining
what they might have experienced. She wondered what they were doing as the water approached. She even scrutinised all the terrible raw footage she could – just to see if she could find them. But all she saw was the distress of so many others. After a few weeks of no word, she knew, for her own sake, it was time to stop searching.
Initially, White Wave had listed all five of them as missing. Kate had seen it on the website, but soon afterwards the organisation had found out what they were doing, and had removed all traces of their group from the site. They cut ties with Kate and Carl. Carl thought it was a good thing. He persuaded her that maybe they should remain missing in some quarters, just for a little while.
The plot hatched between the five of them had become the responsibility of two. They were more determined than ever to go through with it, in the name of their absent friends. But they needed a minimum of four. Carl was looking for one replacement. Kate was working on the other.
She had originally planned to find Desi, but while Jackson had been gone she had decided to ask him instead. Wasn’t he everything they needed? She had watched him come out of the sea carrying one tank in his arms and another on his back, and she had been convinced he would do it. She had been waiting for the right moment when he’d brought up White Wave, and then she was wary, and it all went wrong.
And now, Desi has appeared. And so she will stick to her original plan, and talk to Desi first.
It is hard having Jackson so close to her, thinking she doesn’t care. But she has always known something that Jackson hasn’t – that until now they’ve been on borrowed time. She has made a commitment, and she will not back down.
‘I haven’t done anything,’ she had said to Jackson, when he
had questioned her. But she had deliberately missed out one key word.
Yet
.
