Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
by Tom Matlack
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Seamu
The metal net snapped as the in my personal life, I had made
enough money to travel to pretty We watched for a few minutes
basketball hit it squarely with
much wherever I wanted. ORQJHU $IWHU ¿OOLQJ LWV OXQJV
plenty of backspin. Shirt off, I
the whale disappeared into
had launched the ball during a
Seamus was a head shorter the depths of the clear green
friendly early morning game of
than I was, but we shared more ocean.
horse with my 11-year-old son.
than an abundance of surfer-
His hair was surfer-blond like In the car, I couldn’t help thinking
dude blond hair. We were both
mine, only with a smattering of about the hours I’d spent as
long and lean and today we
red hues. The court had to be a boy with my own dad, an
walked with a similar casual
one of very few in the country English Professor, reading
gait, toes pointed outward,
that had such a commanding Moby Dick out loud and being
staring into space. Neither of us
YLHZ RI WKH 3DFL¿F ULJKW RQ dragged to whaling museums
was talking.
the beach. The hills of Laguna in Nantucket and New Bedford.
Beach rose directly out of the As we approached the rented I had learned about scurvy,
ocean at an almost impossibly SUV, the quiet was broken by a the monotony of being at sea
steep pitch, with homes held up loud “Pssssssst!” Water sprayed for months, and the bravery of
by stilts hanging out over the XSLQWKHDLUQRWPRUHWKDQ¿IW\ men in tiny boats attempting
cliff. yards offshore. to kill giant beasts. I could see
the spool of rope, just as my
“That’s game, brother,” I said, “Look at that, Seamus!” I said,
dad had described it, spinning
putting my sweaty arm around as I squinted to see through
as the whale ran. The rope tore
my boy. “We gotta get you the glare emanating from the
down the center of the whaling
packed up.” VXUIDFHRIWKH3DFL¿F2FHDQ
boat, men on either side rowing
“Just a little longer, dad?” to try to keep up with the beast,
and one sailor whose only job
“Nah, Seamus. We really have was to pour water on the spool
to get going.” WR NHHS LW IURP FDWFKLQJ ¿UH
We walked down to the wet In the car, if I inhaled deeply, I
sand. Big waves boomed and could almost smell the stench of
rushed at us. A couple of surfers blubber being boiled when the
paddled in the distance. The battle was over.
beach was still empty, except Beyond the mythic men of
for early morning walkers and Just as Seamus looked up,
Nikes and basketball in hand, whaling, however, seeing
a group of older women doing the whale so close reminded
martial arts in slow motion he saw the whale breach. “Cool,
dad! That thing’s HUGE!” me of my father’s fascination
silence. I looked at the ladies, with the animals themselves.
wondering why I had never seen As a child, my dad had been
this daily ritual back east.
“You’re telling me! nicknamed “Whale” for his
ability to stay under water for
My son, ex-wife, current wife,
13 year-old daughter by the What a beautiful minutes at a time. Sometimes,
¿UVW PDUULDJH DQG \HDUROG in the car, he would listen to
son by the second—we all lived
creature!” eerie recordings of screeching
within a mile of each other back whales communicating with
in Boston. Together with Elena, one another. As a Quaker, my
“I’ve never seen one that close dad had been fascinated by the
my second wife, I had rented a to shore,” Seamus continued.
house for three weeks in order violence of whaling, just like he
to escape the thick snow, now “Neither have I. March must be KDG EHFRPH D &LYLO :DU EXII
turned to dirty slush. Whereas I some sort of migration season DV LI KLV SDFL¿VP OHG KLP WR
had been less than successful for them.” VHHWKHQREOHÀDZLQPHQZKR
killed man or beast out of fear or Boston College is going to go OHDWKHU À\LQJ LQWR P\ KDQGV
hatred or for survival. However, all the way this year!” “Thanks,” I muttered, before
it was the whales he loved most getting back into the car and
“I sure hope so,” I said, looking
GHHSO\ LW ZDV RI WKHP WKDW KH handing Seamus the lost ball.
at my watch. “We gotta get
seemed most in awe.
JRLQJ QRZ :H PLVV WKLV ÀLJKW As we drove to the airport,
That’s what I was thinking about we’re both in big trouble. And I spoke brightly about the
as I drove Seamus up the hill. I ZHJRWWD¿QGWKDWORVWEDOOGRZQ tournament and about Seamus’s
tried to remember the last time on the beach.” sixth-grade team, attempting in
I had talked to my dad about YDLQ WR ¿OO WKH YRLG MXVW DKHDG
We had both become
anything of real importance. , ZDV LQ IDFW XQDEOH WR ¿JKW
accustomed to goodbyes. As
And I couldn’t remember. off the impending storm cloud.
father and son, we had long ago , ZDV VLQNLQJ PLVVLQJ P\ VRQ
“Dad, I forgot my ball down on reached a male understanding before he had even left.
the beach,” Seamus mumbled, that a certain amount of emotion
as we pulled into the driveway. was a good thing. Too much I checked Seamus in at First
“I’m really sorry.” was bad—very bad, in fact. The Class. By now, I knew the
ease of being together could questions on the unaccompanied
I fought off the impulse to snap. easily turn ugly if the pain of our minor form by heart. I carefully
“It’s okay. We’ll go looking for it situation was spoken out loud. placed Seamus’s ticket into a
on the way out of town,” I said. We didn’t live together and clear plastic pouch held in place
“Hopefully, the neighborhood never would. This was as good by a string around his neck.
kids didn’t take it. That was a as it was going to get. We both
really nice leather ball.” knew this, but never wanted to
Short Story: Thomas Matlack Directed&Adapted: Josh Mitchell Shot&Edited: Jon Wolf
Thomas Matlack
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appeared in Fogged Clarity, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Rowing News, Penthouse, Boston
Common, Boston Magazine, Boston Globe Magazine, Wesleyan, Tango, Pop Matters, and
PenSpark, and he is a frequent contributor to 7KH+XI¿QJWRQ3RVt.