Whale Watching

The sun was already shining when Memphis woke up, and his Mom was sitting on the end of the bed. She was smiling, though her eyes were wet and red.

Memphis glanced at the clock on his bedroom wall. He hesitated for a moment, trying to remember which hand was the hour and which was the minutes, and jolted when he realized it was almost nine.

"Mom, it's…" he started, but she shushed him with a finger.

"Don't worry, honey," she said. "Don't worry."

"But how am I gonna' get to…"

"No school today," she interrupted, a grin spreading across her face. "We've got something better to do."

"What's that?"

"Whale watching."

Memphis stuttered and stammered wordlessly. He turned his head to stare at the picture on his wall. It was in stark black and white and showed a pod of sperm whales cresting the waves in the bay. He'd only seen them through the twenty-cent telescopes at the pier.

"For real?"

"For real."

He stared back at his Mom. Her green eyes looked out under a nest of tight black curls. There was something strange in those eyes, Memphis thought. It made his mom look much older than she had the night before.

Whatever, he thought. He could worry about that later.

The morning was a blur that lasted forever. There was ice cream for breakfast, a bike ride through Golden Gate Park, and fries for lunch. Memphis' Mom steered them through every moment like an experienced tour guide, like she'd been practicing for this day all her life.

In the afternoon, they rented a boat. It was small, like the rowboats pirates used to sail to desert islands, but with a motor at one end and painted emerald green. His eyes widened when the man at the pier said how much it would cost, but his Mom paid it without a moment's hesitation and then added another $500 when he asked about boat handling qualifications.

"It's your life, lady," he said, frowning at Memphis over his sunglasses. "But what about the kid? Can he even swim?"

"He'll be fine," his mom replied. She sounded so confident that the man shrugged and handed over a pair of orange life vests.

Memphis had never seen his mom even try the swan boats at Stow Lake, but she handled the little motorboat with professional efficiency. She told him where to sit, up near the front, and within minutes they were chugging out of the marina and into San Francisco Bay.

"When'd you learn to do this?" he asked, shouting over the sound of the motor.

"Today," said his Mom. She laughed. Memphis didn't get it.

Instead, he turned around and stared into the water. It was blue as the sky and shimmered like Saran Wrap. It slapped against their boat and sprayed up into the air every time they sliced through a wave, leaving a crust of salt on his eyelashes. It stung when he blinked, but the sensation made him laugh for some reason.

As soon as he started to get cold, his Mom produced a thick green hoodie from her bag. A bag of chips was tucked into the pocket, and as he felt them, he realized he was hungry.

Memphis crunched on the crisp, salty snacks and let the sea air fill his lungs. His Mom turned off the engine, and they drifted across the rolling waters of the bay. The sudden silence was textured with the cry of gulls and the lapping of the waves.

"Mom," he said. "Why are we here?"

"To see whales, honey."

"You know what I mean. Why ain't I in school?"

"Too nice a day to spend in school, honey. Now hush up, or you'll scare away the whales."

Memphis sighed. He knew you got whales in the bay occasionally, but he also knew there was no chance they would just stumble across a pod. He trailed a finger across the surface and watched sunshine dance on the ripples.

And then the water just to the left of the boat bulged. It rose like a sand dune and then tore into a wash of foam as the blue-grey flank of a humpback whale burst into the open air. A moment later, another whale breached the surface just to the right. Then, with the sound of a thousand hoses opening all at once, it pumped a torrent of water from its blowhole, and a rainbow danced in the sky over Memphis' head.

The boat rocked wildly, but the boy didn't seem to notice a thing. He didn't move as the six-strong pod, all mothers and calves, surged alongside them, spraying, calling, and yawning with mouths as big and dark as caves. He gripped his Mom's arm tight enough to bruise, but she never even considered prising him off. Instead, she felt his touch on her skin and cried tears of joy and sorrow all at the same time, and was glad when the sea spray stang them away.

It was late. Later than normal. They had read stories until Memphis couldn't keep his eyes open, and he'd snuggled in tight to the crook of his Mom's arm as she lay propped up against the headboard.

"Mom?" he said.

"Yeah, honey?"

"How did you know the whales were gonna' be there?"

His mom paused for several long seconds. The silence filled the room.

"Sometimes, moms just know things."

Memphis considered this.

"Alright," he said. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, honey."

Memphis heard his Mom's voice crack as she spoke, but he was too deeply wrapped in a blanket of sleep to question it. Instead, he fell asleep with a smile on his face and dreamed of tomorrow.

Clara crept downstairs, quiet as snowfall. Her sales agent - an anonymous-looking man with brown hair, a grey suit, and olive skin - was sitting at the kitchen table. He looked the same as he ever had. As he ever would, she corrected herself. The first time they'd met was almost twenty years from now.

He waited for her to pull up a chair, then slid a thin sheaf of paperwork across the surface, guiding it between the remnants of dinner. She looked down and read the three words that filled the first page.

FINAL PAYMENT DUE.

"You've come to collect, huh?" said Clara.

She flicked idly through the paperwork. Every page was filled with dozens of entries, listing the day she had traveled to and the time owed as payment. They all showed the same date.

Today.

"Yes," said the agent. He looked uncharacteristically awkward. "I'm sorry, but your balance owed is now equal to your remaining estimated lifespan, so… this is it. You can't come back again. You understand?"

Clara nodded.

"I understand."

"I'm sorry."

He looked like he meant it. She shook her head.

"Don't be. This was everything I wanted."

Clara was surprised to find that she meant it too. She wouldn't have to wake up to a still, silent body lying alone in a child-sized bed. Never again.

"You did everything you could," said the agent. "We watched, you know. It's just one of those things."

Clara nodded. She had watched it happen a hundred, a thousand times. A sudden aortic rupture; the hidden sting of an undetected heart defect. It was just one of those things. Better for it to happen while he slept, not awake and afraid in a hospital that couldn't help anyway.

"This was everything I wanted," she repeated. "He saw the whales."

The agent nodded.

"It's time to go."

He reached inside his jacket, and Clara heard a click. The doorway leading to the living room was suddenly filled with flat, featureless grey. She stood and walked through the void.

The agent sighed. He picked up the paperwork, tucked Clara's chair under the table, and followed her.

It was time.