I remember the first time I saw him. I was around ten years old. It was my first time on my father’s boat. I had always been too scared of the giant waves that battered the ship to go before now. I was freezing, and miserable, and soaked to the skin, but I was too stubborn to admit to my father that I was not having any fun. I was standing on the deck, looking out over the big grayness. I was feeling a little sorry for myself, and thinking of home and of my little sister who was probably wrapped up in a blanket with a mug of hot apple cider right that minute. I huffed.
It was right then that a giant gray thing came out of the water. It was a humpback whale. It leapt out of the water, and came back down with a loud and giant splash.
“Be careful!” My father warned me as the water reached us. The boat rocked unsteadily, and a thick layer of salty mist passed over me, but I held on tightly to the railing around the boat, my eyes never leaving the spot where the whale had gone back into the sea.
“Did you see that?” My father asked, coming over, smiling. “That was a humpback whale. I bet when we tell your sister she will be so jealous that she didn’t get to come and see it.”
I no longer was bored, and I didn’t mind the cold or the wetness of my clothes. My mind was still blank from the extraordinary thing I had just witnessed. I continued staring out, and something caught my eye. I saw a big gray mass coming to the surface again. I was expecting it to jump, but instead his big gray tail came up, and slapped back down. He did that over and over again. It was very loud, but I didn’t mind. As far as I was concerned, this whale was now mine, and nothing else existed at that moment except for the whale and I.
When we returned home, my thoughts remained on my new friend. I spent my free time researching humpbacks. They were friendly creatures. I started looking for a good name, but nothing seemed good enough.
My father sold his boat. My mind became less and less on my ocean-dwelling friend, but I never forgot him. I grew up. When I was nineteen my father died. He left me some money, and with it I bought my very own boat, quite like the one my father had owned. I immediately took it out.
It felt good to be back out on the sea. I went out where I had seen my whale.
“Hello?” I called, knowing I was foolish. “Are you here, big guy?” Suddenly a giant splash came from behind me, I whirled, and saw the disturbed water rippling. I waited, breathless. Then he came. His head came first, followed by the rest of him. He came back down on his back. The boat lurched and groaned, but my feet stayed securely under me.
“Hi!” I said, tears coming to my eyes. “You waited for me.” I said, the tears now running down my face. I stayed there all day, but I did eventually have to leave.
“I’ll see you soon!” I said as I left. Only I didn’t.
I went back on shore, got a good job. I got married. I had a child. My son, who I named Jake. With the arrival of a new family member, any thought left in my brain of the whale was gone. My son got older.
When my son was seven, my husband asked me whether I wanted to keep the boat, or sell it. I suddenly remembered all that had occurred on the sea, and decided to pass it on to my son. If my whale was still alive, I told myself. I must not get my hopes up. After all, I had forgotten him. It was not his fault if he had decided to move on.
When we finally got out to the spot, my son was ready to go home. Just like I was twenty years ago. We waited for what seemed like a long time, my son growing more and more bored. Tears started to fill my eyes. I should have known. After all, he was a wild animal, but I was just so sure that he would wait.
Then I saw him. I saw a hint of gray before he leapt. My son’s mouth fell open.
“Did you see that mom?” He asked, dripping water that the whale had splashed on him. The tears were pouring down my cheeks. Of course my whale was still here. I should never have doubted him.
My son and I stayed out on the sea for a while, before he started to get bored and wanted to go home again. I sailed us home again, sure that I would come out again soon, possibly even next weekend.
But life swept me away again. I lived, watched my son grow up, graduate, and start a family of his own. I got brain cancer. When I was finally announced to be a hopeless case, I called my son and husband into the hospital. That was the time in my life that I felt the most at peace with the world.
My family met me, trying to be brave for my sake. They asked me where I wanted to be buried. I suddenly remembered my whale, who had always stayed right there for me. I told them I wanted to be buried at sea, where they knew my whale lived.
I died two days later. They held a beautiful service for me. It turns out that my whale did not come to meet them. He had passed too. They lowered my coffin into the water, and I sank down into the water, to be with my loyal friend, the whale.