The small motorboat rocked gently, just enough to stir Barry from his book. He glanced out at the wavelets, a pink sun rippling off them and causing them to shimmer like dragon scales. He turned his wrist and looked to his watch.
8:42 PM.
He scanned the horizon, eyes peeled for movement. It was still early to expect to see anything, but there was always the chance that the pod of whales had pushed ahead on their journey. There was also the chance they’d fallen behind and would be a little late. But that rarely happened. His predictions were almost always spot on. That was what earned him so much credit as a whale-watcher. That was the title he was given, although he thought of himself as doing much more than watching. He studied them, not with any training or special equipment, of course. But he studied their movements and personalities. He watched how relieved they were to make it to their destination, how cautious a mother was with her new calf. He saw how reckless the calves were yet how quickly they listened to their mother when she called. He studied the relationship, the interaction between the world’s gentlest giants. To him, that was much more than whale-watching.
After several more minutes, Barry began looking in earnest. They would be coming down from the North, from Canada down to Florida for the Winter. The mothers would be ready to birth their calves and raise them, preparing them for the journey North again.
As he waited, he felt a gentleness come over the water. Something peaceful was moving, something that calmed the waters while exciting them. He could feel anticipation, an eagerness for life and rest. He shut his eyes and focused on it. There it was, the first call. Even above water he could hear it—he’d always been able to hear the whales. The call was short, inflating like a rising bubble. It echoed and rose, starting low in pitch and reaching a higher, almost curious curl of a note. Barry listened. He felt he could almost understand it, he almost knew what they were asking. But it was just beyond his comprehension, just beneath the surface.
He opened his eyes as the first sight emerged: a tower of ocean spray billowing upward before fading into the sky. Another appeared behind it. Several more—the North Atlantic Right Whales had arrived. They surfaced, first to breathe and then to triumph in a successful journey. They rolled, spinning lazily before dipping back under. The water shook and quelled at their subtle movements, rocking Barry’s boat even from afar. He gripped the sides, eyes still pinned on the gray lumps gently forming on the horizon. A smile was forming as their sounds grew clearer and more energetic. They called to one another and echoed sentiments of excitement as well as weariness. They spun around each other for a moment, seemingly rejoicing that they’d made it. And then they eased into a restful state, calm beneath the surface.
As the sun dipped over the horizon, Barry listened to the last traces of their calls as they spread a “goodnight” around the pod. After they were gone and a watchful moon had risen, he turned his boat toward shore.
Morning always came quicker than Barry was prepared for, especially after a night of whale-watching. Climbing out of bed felt foreign after watching the graceful behemoths. His feet moved sluggishly and his legs wobbled slightly, as if they weren’t meant for land. That had been the running joke among his family members.
“Me and your mom were enjoying the beach when all of a sudden a baby crawled out of the ocean,” his father had told him when he was younger. “That baby was ugly as all get-out—don’t tell your mother I said that—and sounded even worse than it looked. When it cried it sounded like this—” he would pause, lower his brows, and then emit a sound from deep within his chest. “Oooh, oooh! Woooo!”
Young Barry would laugh or try to come up with some clever comeback but was always mystified by what his parents meant by the joke. As he grew older he understood it was a connection to how much time he spent by the water and how much it captivated him. He never believed he was an ocean baby, of course, but the idea was mysterious and the source of many childhood imaginations. Only after his parents moved did Barry realize how much those comments had stuck with him.
Once he’d dressed himself and grabbed a bite to eat, Barry stepped outside. Now that he was ready for the day, the sun didn’t seem quite so oppressive. It was warm and golden, welcoming him to the world he’d been born into. But it was a bit overbearing, so he put on sunglasses before getting out his bike.
It wasn’t anything fancy but it wasn’t a scooter. It went fast enough to get his heart-rate up and was easy enough for casual drives. Most importantly, he could afford it and it was much cheaper than a car. He’d gotten it off the uncle of Jonas—a childhood friend—who’d been ready to either strip it or sell it depending on what mood he was in. Barry had caught him in a selling mood and landed a fair purchase. The bike ran smoothly and got him where he needed to be, and his friend’s uncle offered to keep it up to shape. For a small price, of course. But, without any mechanical knowledge, Barry had decided to go with the cheapest option. He really did trust his friend’s uncle as well. While he was a bit loose and seemingly annoyed at the world for continuing to spin, he wasn’t a bad man. Barry knew better than to spend much time around him, especially at night, but didn’t mind stopping by to say hello every now and then.
Most mornings, Barry drove as slowly as he could. He didn’t have much of a reason to show up early to work, and didn’t enjoy it or his coworkers enough to spend any extra time at the run down pharmacy. It wasn’t a bad place to work, not by any means. For having no education past high school, it kept him going and let him live a simple but content life. He couldn’t afford extravagance, but then again he didn’t really want it. All he really wanted was enough to get by.
The “Have-it-All” had been a staple of the town for as long as he could remember—a quieter staple than the local bars or the arcade, but it had always been there and everyone was certain it always would always. And while that was true for the most part, the town used it without giving it much gratitude. It desperately needed remodeling, both inside and out—a feature made more noticeable when the diner and salon on either side of it had each been renovated. The technology was outdated, causing both customer and employee constant frustration. The bathrooms had been permanently out of order after a pipe leak that had been deemed too costly to fix. The employees—including Barry—had been most frustrated at this, having to leave the store and enter the diner for the restroom. But they survived, and everyone put up with Have-it-All’s detriments because it provided a necessity. Sure, everyone said “it would be so nice to have this place revamped,” but no one was willing to fork out cash for it. They paid enough for medications and items that were more expensive at the grocery store.
“Cutting it close,” Nita, the store manager, murmured as he stepped through the doors.
“Morning Nita,” he said, smiling to make up for his near tardiness.
She returned the smile, only less genuinely and with a sarcastic twist. Barry didn’t like working at the pharmacy, but neither did anyone else, which made it slightly more bearable. Nita did an excellent job managing the store and keeping Barry and Tina—the other employee—in line, but she made it clear that she had other plans before taking this job. Her story changed frequently, however, leading Barry to believe she’d never really known what she wanted to do. But the three she most often repeated were musician, psychologist, or a social worker “of some kind.” As far as Barry could speculate, she wasn’t too old to pursue these occupations and often wondered why she didn’t. But he never asked, she seemed set on being disappointed with life, and trying to encourage her would be too stressful.
Tina was a different character altogether. She was the youngest employee, fresh out of high school. She’d said she was taking a gap year and would go on to college at some point but later confessed to Barry that she had no plan on pursuing further education. Her true calling was to be an influencer. Her parents were the ones insisting this was a gap year and not the start of a career she might never achieve. But she was certain it wasn’t so far out of reach. All it took was “a few viral seconds,” she would repeat. That amounted in countless videos of what Nita had deemed “degrading to the human species” and the hope that one of them would catch the fleeting attention of enough people to carry her to fame. Several times, Tina had begged Barry to take her out to see the whales—every time he refused. He didn’t want to be featured in her attempt at a viral video. Barry knew that it wouldn’t be fair to the whales either, she’d probably try to ride one or do something equally stupid. He wasn’t about to be a part of that.
“How am I ever going to peak if I can’t do anything?!” she had whined after a request had been turned down. “How am I supposed to get any clout filming in a pharmacy?!”
“You could try doing one of those—”
“Just stop,” Tina turned her attention from Barry down to her sparkle-laden phone. “If you’re suggesting a challenge, it’s already irrelevant.” She sighed and muttered, “I’ve gotta get out of here.”
So she continued to dance, talk, and giggle in front of her phone camera, stating it was just a matter of time. Nita did her best to ensure Tina’s side career was pursued on her own time, but she managed to get away with several videos when the manager wasn’t around.
These two provided Barry with both entertainment and stress. He couldn’t help but be intrigued when they went at each other, it was the clashing of two generations completely unwilling to see the perspective of the other. But, when their issues got turned toward him, Barry wanted nothing more than to walk out the doors and go find some whales. Thankfully he was restocking and organizing most of the time, so he was able to move around a lot and prevent one of them from hanging on him. He didn’t need or want that much interaction.
The actual pharmacist was a rare bird, to the point that none of them really considered him an employee. He stayed in his back corner and didn’t come out unless a customer needed a prescription filled or had a question about their medications. Despite his antisocial attitude, he wasn’t an unpleasant person. On the few occasions Barry had spoken with him, Allen had smiled and talked as normally as anyone could be expected to. It had almost made Barry want to talk to him more often if only to get away from the airy tone Tina put on when she was recording a video. But Barry didn’t feel like making the effort to pull an introvert out of themselves. Allen seemed to be doing fine by himself, so Barry stayed away and gave him his space.
When winter came and the whales were coming back for the season, Barry would be distracted enough to put up with whoever’s radio station was playing. The music would fade out and he’d recall the voices of last year’s whales, wondering if all of them would make it back. He wasn’t one to get overly distracted, especially not to the point that anyone had to say anything, but there were times he stood in front of an aisle with his mind far from what he was restocking. That wasn’t such a bad thing, however. It kept him from boredom and giving in to the hopelessness such a mundane job often inspires. He had his hobby, and that made work more bearable.
“Whales back yet?” Nita asked, finding him on his lunch break outside of the lunchroom. Tina was talking to her phone and Barry didn’t want to be anywhere near while he ate. When it came to fame-hunting, nothing seemed to work as well as taking advantage of unsuspecting civilians. Barry did not want to be one such civilian.
“Last night, actually,” he nodded.
“Figured,” she grunted. She was only in her mid-fifties but sounded as if she only had five years left to live. She swore she’d never smoked a day in her life, but Barry found that difficult to believe. As far as the evidence was concerned, she’d been smoking since she left the womb. “You get distracted when those big ol’ fish come lumbering back in,” she added after clearing her throat.
“Yeah,” he shrugged, deciding not to correct her labeling them as fish. “Everybody needs a hobby.”
“Long as the hobby stays outta work,” she grunted. She then scoffed and shook her head—Barry could see she was thinking about Tina. “Hard to believe what most young people are into these days.”
Barry nodded, agreeing that much of the social media craze was ridiculous. But he couldn’t outright condemn it; after all, he used social media from time to time. Everyone did.
“Back in my day we were getting dirty, doing things that did something. Not—” she scoffed again, “whatever it is she thinks she’s doing.”
Barry couldn’t argue that whatever Nita had done in her childhood had done something—he just couldn’t decide what it could have been. The constant scent of cigarettes and alcohol that followed her suggested she hadn’t made the best choices in her early life. He’d given up when he realized he didn’t really care that much. Why should he?
“Guess being distracted is better’n that,” she muttered. “Just make sure you get your work done.”
“I always do,” he nodded.
She shrugged and shuffled on, more than ready for the day to be over.
Barry thought a moment about the conversation. It was a recurring common dialogue, something he heard at least once a week. But it never became less interesting. In both Nita and Tina, Barry could see a determination to prove the other wrong. Their approval didn’t really matter, they just wanted to prove that what they thought was the right thing to think. Barry didn’t care so much. If Tina wanted to expose every detail of her life to the world and pin her hopes on the loyalty of emotionless profile pictures, that was her choice. Watching was alright with him. No need to get messy by involving himself and arguing.
Over break, Barry was surprised to receive a call from Jonas. The only people who called him were after a favor or what little money he had, but this call was from a childhood friend he hadn’t seen in years.
“You should come up to the city sometime,” Jonas said after they’d reached the middle of their overdue catch-up. He had a way of cutting in whenever a thought bubbled up to the surface, his way of prolonging things. “I could show you the sights, take you to some ritzy places—you wouldn’t believe the kinds of seafood they have here.”
“Probably better than the—”
“Yes,” Jonas interrupted flatly, “it’s better than any of the dinky diners we grew up with, Barry.”
Barry didn’t care much whether the seafood in the city was better than what he’d grown up with but offered a chuckle to humor Jonas. A silent gap entered the conversation, the kind that usually insinuates that the call is almost over.
“You still whale-watching?” Jonas finally asked.
“Studying,” Barry corrected, “and of course.”
“I kinda miss those lazy fish,” Jonas admitted.
“Not fish and not lazy,” Barry couldn’t help but correct.
“Whatever, not like they care what I call them.”
Jonas’ tone was subdued, something that Barry hadn’t heard in him before. A thought bubbled up.
“Maybe you should come out here, the whales just got back.”
“Yeah?” Jonas was silent for a moment. “I just might,” he concluded. “It’d be nice to get a break from the city for a bit.”
“See? City’s not so great.”
“Better than middle-of-nowhere-towns.”
“Whatever man, keep your fake trees and expensive parking.”
The disagreement ended—as it always did—by agreeing that it was a subjective argument. Neither one would be persuaded that the other was better.
Barry had never tried living in the city, but he didn’t really care to. He didn’t see the point in uprooting himself and drowning in a river of people moving too fast to afford anyone a second glance. Besides, there weren’t any whales in the city, and that was really the biggest thing in his life at the moment.
The moment Have-it-All closed, he leapt onto his bike and sped out of the tattered parking lot. The sky was shifting from bright blue to hazy pink and set the tone for a relaxed evening in the quiet town. Relaxed for Barry, that is. He had no plans other than to see the whales.
Out on the water, with a sandwich and a book, everything seemed right. Have-it-All was a distant memory, a place he could put away until tomorrow. Nita and Tina were just two unconnected dots far behind him, too far to make any noise that could reach him. The only noises he concerned himself with were the gentle bellows of the whales beneath the surface. They were a soothing ambiance, a rhythm that set his mind at ease. But they were more than that, too. They were some of the only voices that mattered to him. Although he couldn’t understand their weary moans, they felt more important than Nita’s raspy grumbling or Tina’s meaningless chatter. When they spoke he felt an urgency to respond, as if they would be offended if he didn’t. But, being unable to stick his head in the water and repeat their eerie calls, he simply listened.
Not far from him, a whale surfaced. It came to breathe, sending an explosion of water high into the fading light. But it stayed a moment—Barry wondered if it was watching him. It moved slowly, drifting forward as it kept its submerged eye on his boat. Having decided he wasn’t a threat, it rolled lazily, exposing its stomach as it plunged down beneath the surface.
Barry watched the ripples and gentle rolls of the ocean follow its descent. Moments like those made living the way he did much more than just surviving. The majority of his friends—all of whom had since moved on from the small ocean-side town—saw his life as something less than desirable, an “if you can’t do anything else” kind of situation. But, when a whale made a vulnerable connection with him, Barry was certain there was nothing else he’d rather be doing.
The next day began with a mundane morning at Have-it-All. Nita and Tina had gotten into it once already, and he was tired of hearing the latter pout. Something about two adults bickering the way they did just made him wonder whether his friends had been right. But he caught relief when a customer walked in and Tina returned to the cash register. Barry’s mind returned to whales and simple things and, for a few moments, inventory work was blissful again. But then the customer left.
“What’s your problem?!” Tina yelled from the front of the pharmacy.
After a moment, Nita peeked her stubborn brows around the corner.
“You knew I was recording,” she continued, her glistening nails pointing accusingly at the much less fashionable woman.
“Recording on work-time,” Nita grunted back, pointing her own work-gnarled finger at the petite wall decoration. “Which we already talked about.”
“It was thirty seconds,” Tina whined.
The argument continued, neither side budging or pausing long enough to consider a word the other was saying. Barry sighed and tried to focus on his shelves. Cough medicine, a few bottles of aspirin, and Kleenex. One after the other. As he placed them, the argument at the front of the store began to fade. At first, Barry thought they had miraculously come to an agreement. But then he realized something else—something that had never happened—was happening. All sounds were fading out, the scuffing of cardboard on cardboard, the rattle of pills in a bottle, and the wheels on his cart—everything was becoming less and less audible. Barry froze. He put his hands to his ears, his eyes wide as he snapped his fingers and heard nothing. He opened his mouth, said his name out loud, and then was silent.
Before he could think of anything else to do, a sound broke the empty world setting in around him. It was long and rising, a deep bellow that escalated and then peaked on a high note. It was curious, excited, and beckoning. Barry looked around him. He was in Have-it-All, miles from the ocean. But the whale’s voice was unmistakable. It sounded clear and pristine, the only voice he could hear. Barry’s hands shook slightly. He stepped away from his cart, bumping into something. He whirled around to see Nita, her brows lowered and her lips moving. She was saying something, muttering it angrily.
Barry shook his head and spoke—he thought he was speaking, but he couldn’t hear it. He tried to say I can’t hear you! while pointing to his ears. Something’s wrong, I can’t hear anything!
Although he couldn’t hear it, it seemed to have worked; Nita stopped talking and studied him with lowered brows.
Tears began to form in Barry’s eyes as the whale’s voice continued but all other sounds remained absent. He shook his head and repeated his statements, afraid that she didn’t believe him. She nodded and said something, moving her lips slowly to try and help him understand. Barry shook his head: I don’t know what you’re saying! She nodded and took his arm. She led him to the front, turning her short head to yell something to Tina as they left.
Barry had never been so afraid. Nor had he ever been so mystified and curious. He was such a mixture of both that he couldn’t decide which to focus on. He couldn’t cry or think straight, he could only watch the silent world go by as Nita drove him to the hospital.
Going through the hospital was a mess and Barry had no control over what was happening. He was guided one way, a woman smiling and carefully trying to mouth something at him. He was then brought to a room and given some papers to fill out. They were the usual requirements: insurance, contact information, everything they needed to establish a professionally helpful relationship. After that was filled out he waited a while—occasional whale bellows breaking the silence. He was then taken to another room, where his vitals were taken and someone finally came in to take a look at him. This person had an Ipad that typed what they said, meaning Barry could actually communicate with him. Barry assumed the man was a doctor, but he never said. Their conversation was simple, with the doctor asking him questions about what had happened and if he had any history of hearing loss. As Barry answered, the doctor nodded and seemed to understand but didn’t say much more than he had to.
Although he was hesitant, Barry knew he should mention the whale voices. It sounded ridiculous, and he knew it would probably be drawn back to some psychological problem, but he had to mention it.
His confession seemed to puzzle the doctor, who hesitated before asking any more questions. After it was explained that Barry had heard them before—above water—the doctor didn’t seem so worried. He said it was likely some sort of coping mechanism, the brain adding a familiar noise to the sudden silence. That seemed to make some sense, but Barry thought it was strange that it persisted as well as that he’d heard them so clearly before.
The end result of the day was him sitting back at home without much to go off of. Until they found what exactly had taken his hearing, they couldn’t do anything. His world would be void of any sound apart from the ghostly wails until they came up with a solution.
As he lay in bed, wide awake, he kept focusing—trying to hear something. He knocked on the wall, nothing. He watched the trees through his window, nothing. He listened for his breath, nothing. It was empty, completely empty.
A long moan echoed through his mind. He turned his head to the window, the direction of the sea. Somewhere out there a pod of whales was settling in for the night.
The next morning came with a slightly different routine. Barry didn’t wake up when his alarm went off—not because he chose to but because he couldn’t hear it. He woke up about thirty minutes after, his inner clock reminding him that time would move on without his hearing. But he didn’t get out of bed right away. Instead, he watched the world sway outside his window, brightened by Florida sunlight and sedated by a gentle breeze.
He’d been given a few days of medical leave, time to adjust to what was being referred to as a “temporary hearing impairment.” Barry didn’t know what to call it. Hearing impairment seemed accurate enough, but he couldn’t help but feel his case was a little different than other people who lost their hearing. After a quick internet search, he found that sudden hearing loss did frequently happen. But he couldn’t find any cases of people hearing other things while losing everything else. Those that did certainly weren’t hearing whales. Barry was convinced his case was psychological, a loop he would eventually snap out of. Until then, he decided to take advantage of the time off. There were a few things he’d been wanting to do and, with several extra days off, he could take his time with them.
The first thing on the list was to take his bike in for a check-up. That had to be done before any of the fun activities. He realized that driving—even his bike—without hearing could be a problem, however. The doctor had given him strict instructions to contact someone to help him get around and take care of the things he couldn’t—or shouldn’t. But Barry knew enough back-roads and quiet alleyways to get from his house to Jonas’ uncle’s without any help. Besides, he knew he didn’t really have anyone to text that he’d feel comfortable escorting him.
Barry sat on his bike a moment before starting it. He slipped in the key and braced. As he turned it, he felt the surface. He felt it thrumming and growling, ready to meet the road. But the sound, the crotchety spatter that accompanied the small bike was missing. As pathetic as the sound had been, it seemed even more pathetic without anything. Barry eased forward and drove it onto the road.
The roads he chose were quiet, occupied only by himself and whoever wasn’t working. Feeling the wind without hearing it was something Barry hadn’t thought would be as strange as it was. The only thing he could liken it to was diving: plunging into that quiet atmosphere with breath held and invisible forces tugging at his face. But he could breathe, he didn’t need to wear goggles, and his movement was much freer. Yet his lack of hearing kept the connection in his mind.
When he reached Jason’s uncle, who insisted on being called Rick despite having a different name, Barry parked near the garage and turned toward the house. If the garage doors weren’t open, Rick would be on the porch sputtering over some piece of hardware that wasn’t acting right. He was a fixer—or an aspiring one—and never had an empty hand.
Barry didn’t see him on the porch, and the garage door was closed, so he began walking toward the house. Before he reached it, he felt vibrations at his feet. Something was shaking the ground, not violently but just enough to catch his attention. He stopped when he felt heat behind him. Turning, Barry found himself face-to-face with Rick’s paint-stripped truck. He stepped back, startled that he hadn’t been able to sense the vehicle until it had nearly run him over.
Rick was talking as he stepped out, his face curved in his permanent look of confused irritation. Barry removed his phone and opened an app he’d downloaded before leaving the house. It was a text-to-speech program, meant to aid people who found themselves in situations similar to his own. While he opened it, he explained the situation. He talked in what he thought was a normal tone, but—with no way to hear himself—had to rely on the feeling his vocal cords produced.
Rick seemed to understand and, after Barry had explained it, shouted slowly at the phone. As was its function, the app typed out what he’d said, complete with emphasis indicators: “WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?!”
Rick glanced at the phone and frowned when he realized it was all capitalized. He stopped Barry from speaking and asked the question again, this time with less gusto. This time, it appeared normal, without any stress on his tone to imply anger.
Barry explained that he’d come to get a check-up on his bike.
Rick gave a thin-toothed grin before nodding and motioning toward the garage. He said something while his back was turned, which the app translated as: “bring her in... see how she’s getting along.”
Barry rolled the bike in and let Rick work.
Watching him with his tools was almost as entertaining as witnessing a shouting match between Nita and Tina. But watching Rick was less stressful and didn’t come with any of the repercussions his coworkers would be sure to share with him. When he’d been able to hear, he had been privy to all of the man’s curses and grumblings—very few of which were translatable by the app—but was now left with his imagination. The gray-haired mechanic wasn’t saying anything to him apart from an occasional vague question about his condition. “How’d it happen?” “Is it permanent?” “You got one of them hearing things in your ear?”
One topic surprised and intrigued Barry.
“Jonas will be in town for a while,” the app translated after Rick had remembered the fact.
Barry repeated the name of his childhood friend.
“Some kind of trouble at work,” Rick continued. He started to mumble, and the app only got pieces of what he said. “…won’t let him stay and… what’s her name dumped him.”
Barry asked for clarification but Rick shrugged and suggested he ask Jonas when he showed up—which he expected would be in a day or two. Rick didn’t seem to know a whole lot of what was happening, but Barry knew he and Jonas had always kept a special understanding. That had been an issue for Rick and his brother—Jonas’ father—who had always been at odds. After a fluctuating home life, Jonas’ relationship with his parents was worse than it was with Rick, so Barry wasn’t surprised at all that he would be staying with him. The one piece that stuck with him was the trouble at work Rick had mentioned. Jonas had always been clever and far too easy to tempt, but he knew the difference between cheating someone out of their trading cards and messing with company assets. Barry was sure it would all be cleared up when he arrived.
The rest of the check-up was carried out in silence—more silence than had become usual—with Barry recalling immature schemes and trouble he and Jonas had gotten into. Rick was lost in his own memories and Barry let him stay there.
By the time he was done, he’d serviced the bike and taken it for a test drive to see if it was still in good enough condition. That was something Barry appreciated about Rick’s service: if he didn’t like it while driving it, it wasn’t good enough. The fact that he applied this principle to an old bike he’d been willing to throw out a year ago was a testament to the fact that—despite the unpleasantness that drove away many potential customers—he could be trusted with a vehicle.
“The pharmacy going to keep you?” the app translated as Rick wheeled the bike out of the garage.
Barry explained their promise to keep him on once he’d adjusted—providing he could still operate efficiently. Rick seemed to approve of their decisions and slapped Barry’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything or give any expression with his gesture, which made it somewhat confusing to Barry. He chose to take it as Rick’s way of encouraging him.
Rick shook his head when Barry pulled out his wallet. He didn’t say anything and didn’t stay long enough for Barry to argue. He simply turned around and walked back toward his garage.
Barry stood a moment, watching him leave. One more reason to believe he wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be. It made Barry wonder why he chose to be so unlikable to most people. He really had a lot to offer as far as friendships go, if he spent less time in his garage and more time socializing Barry felt he’d be a pretty likable person.
Barry sped off down the road, forking off from the route home and heading toward the beach. There was a less populated portion he liked to visit, somewhere tourists avoided but was still open to the public. There were several reasons it was avoided, the primary being deeper waters, no sand, and rumors of sharks. Barry knew the rumors were false—when people thought they saw sharks they were probably catching a glimpse of a whale or a dolphin. The calves, which would be here before long, could easily be passed off as sharks without a closer look.
Barry left his bike near the road and made his way to the cliff and then down it to a small jut large enough to sit on. It was his little corner of the beach, a crevice to disappear in while watching a world without people.
He studied the waves as they gently swept over the great blue tablecloth. Other than several gulls gliding past in search of anything edible, the area was empty. But without sound it had a new sort of emptiness. It had lost something—the repetition of waves sloshing against the rocks, the wavering cry of gulls, an occasional car on the road behind. These sounds gave the scene life that it just didn’t have anymore.
The echoing wail of the hidden behemoths gave the scene a flicker of life. Barry scanned the water, searching for some sign of the whales. They didn’t surface but kept up a steady chant, some ancient verse only they could understand. But he could hear it—he could hear it clearly. He heard it above water, miles from wherever they were.
Barry wondered if the doctor’s theory was right. If it was, he wondered how long it would last. If his brain was simply helping him adjust, the whale voices would eventually fade out. That was a logical conclusion. But it wasn’t one he liked very much.
The first day back at work was beyond strange. Nita and Tina were far nicer than they’d ever been—at least when he was around—and Allen even crept out of his corner to give his condolences. Barry didn’t know people gave condolences for hearing loss. His work didn’t change much, he had his schedule and inventory lists, but any interaction now had to be carried out through his text-to-speech app. It wasted some time and was painfully awkward to use, but it let him communicate with whoever he needed to.
He’d always heard that impaired people hated being given excuses not to perform on the same level as other people, but he didn’t mind so much. When someone passed off a mistake as part of his impairment he shrugged it off or acted as if he was grateful they understood. He never asked for these situations or made them happen, but he didn’t feel the need to convince anyone that he was just as capable as he’d always been. There were plenty of people who’d lost their hearing, limbs, everything between and had still been determined champions of things “whole” people couldn’t. Barry decided to leave being great to those people, he was fine being who he’d always been, just without hearing. He didn’t see why hearing loss should change him. Besides, he was still convinced it wasn’t permanent.
His conviction was partially aided by the medical counsel he received. The short truth was that they didn’t know anything. There was nothing wrong with his ears, no blockage or trouble with his connections. The only other possibility—a neurological disconnect—was much more difficult to sort through. No one could point to anything and the only solid piece they could prove was that he was in fact void of hearing. He knew this, of course, so their tests and counsel did him very little good.
One of the strong suggestions he’d received from the doctor was to attend some form of counseling to help him work through what was happening. He agreed and met with someone who was supposed to help him come to peace with being unable to hear.
Despite warm tea, plush cushions, and a soothing ambiance, the meeting was uncomfortable. The woman herself was deaf and had lost her hearing suddenly as well—due to something the doctors had been able to pinpoint. She was kind enough and certainly wanted to help Barry, but he wasn’t sure he needed it. The questions she asked and the expression she had when she did all pointed to one thing: Barry was supposed to be hurting. As far as he knew, Barry wasn’t hurting. He wasn’t exactly bursting with happy thoughts, but his mental state didn’t seem entirely out of the ordinary. So, while he appreciated her attempts to console him, Barry quickly stopped scheduling sessions. He had other things to worry about.
The whales had already brought their calves into the world and would be teaching them essential skills needed to survive in the blue expanse past their nursing grounds. Barry could hear the extra calls, the weaker voices echoing their mothers. As much as he could, he wanted to see the early stages of their preparation. Seeing a whale mother corral her calf was something not many people got to observe, something he rarely saw either.
Losing his hearing hadn’t changed anything about his time on the ocean—other than that he no longer heard the waves against his boat or the occasional gull overhead. He was still able to work the simple motor at the back and navigate toward the pod. It usually took some time to find them, but Barry had grown better at locating them over the years. He couldn’t explain how but he seemed to have an inner compass for the creatures. He attributed it to all the time he spent studying them, which helped him ignore more uncertain possibilities. Being able to hear them as well as locate them was an uncanny pairing he didn’t want to focus on. Life was normal, even without hearing, and Barry intended to keep it that way.
The smooth voices seeped through the water and up to his ears. He stopped the boat and let it rock gently. The whales were close, meandering closer. Barry could feel that their movements were less direct than usual, bobbing one way and then the other, suggesting the calves were somewhat distracted today.
Barry looked ahead, to where they would soon be passing. He scanned the surface for some sign of them: a gray lump, a spout of water or a ripple. As they passed—the mothers giving a routine call and waiting for their calf’s response—Barry saw no trace of them. One of the voices became louder, however. It was less of a response and more of a call, a question. A mother’s voice answered somewhat aggressively, but the calf’s probing continued.
Suddenly Barry saw a gray blur in the distance, drawing closer. Too small for an adult, he realized it was the calf that he had been hearing. It was approaching rapidly and Barry knew its mother wouldn’t be far behind it. He’d never been afraid of the whales, but the knowledge that the mother would act violently if it thought its calf was in danger motivated a little apprehension. Yet the moment was something that had always been just out of reach. Contact, interaction with the whales. In all his evenings of watching and studying, he’d stayed far away so as not to disturb them. Now, when one was approaching, he wasn’t sure what to do.
The voice was clearer than ever, louder and more direct. It felt pointed, as if it wasn’t meant to stay underwater—as if it was meant for him to hear.
Barry dared to lean forward, toward the calf. It was cautious at first but then passed by, near enough to touch. As it turned for another round, Barry reached out. He placed his hand in the water and stretched his fingers. They brushed the whale, just barely, but enough to feel its thick tough surface. He smiled as he pulled his hand back, opening his mouth to laugh. He couldn’t hear it, but he knew he was laughing.
As he was gleefully watching the calf, a stern voice reprimanded the young whale. Barry turned and saw a much larger gray blur approaching. He moved back to the center of the small boat, ready should the worst happen. But the whale didn’t ram his boat or raise its tail at him. It simply circled the boat once before bumping the calf and leading it away. Barry watched them go, listening to the calf’s mournful excuses. As the pod swam away, Barry leaned back and soaked in the last hours of the sun.
Saturday, Barry took his bike down to Rick’s house, where Jonas had arrived the previous day. He’d had a short text conversation with Jonas, explaining what had happened and suggesting they get together and catch up. Jonas had agreed, and the plan was to meander around the beach cliffs, maybe go out on Barry’s boat if they felt like it. They had never made plans when they were younger, they simply met and did whatever they felt like doing. If they didn’t agree on what to do, they would either fight until one changed their mind or just go their separate ways. It hadn’t hurt their friendship, Barry had always believed that sort of freedom made it stronger. They each knew that—no matter what the other did—they would always bounce back. Barry was confident things would be the same and Jonas would bounce back from whatever he’d gotten into.
When he drove onto Rick’s property, he noticed the garage open—where he’d find Rick—and a man seated on the porch rocking chair. As he stopped his bike, Barry made the visual connection. Jonas was rocking slowly, his sandalled feet putting forth just enough effort to keep up a comfortable sway. Despite the professional attire Barry knew he’d gotten used to, Jonas was dressed in the customary light shorts and button-down t-shirt of a Florida visitor. He had large circular sunglasses on, their dark lenses matching the jet black layer of hair coating the top of his head. No matter how changed he looked, Barry could see that he was the same Jonas he’d grown up with.
They had a short conversation about communication, Barry explaining the basics of the app and how they could talk. It was easy enough to understand and apply, and the two soon set off toward the beach.
The most pressing topic was whatever was happening at work, but Barry waited until Jonas brought it up. Until they were out of town he let small-talk carry the conversation. Once they were near the cliffs, looking out at the gentle divots in the blue sheet, Jonas opened up a bit.
“Uncle tell you about the company?”
Barry explained that he’d mentioned it but hadn’t given any details.
“Yeah, it’s a mess.” Jonas sat down at the cliff, taking off his sandals to let his feet dangle over the edge. “Long story short, a bunch of money went missing, I happened to be covering the transaction, people blame me.”
Barry asked if that was all the company had to go off of.
“Basically,” he said at first. But then he shrugged and continued. “I mean, there are a few other things. Apparently, some of the accounts I’ve worked on in the past haven’t been handled as securely as they should have. I don’t know. They’re trying to use that to pin me.”
Barry gave a sympathetic comment, unsure exactly what to offer.
“That’s all it is really, they just need someone to pin.” Jonas leaned back, supporting himself with his hands. “One of the top guys probably nixed it and I’m low enough on the pole that he can frame me and get away with it.”
Barry didn’t answer. He wanted to hear Jonas’ voice, to catch his tone and mood. Without it, he wasn’t sure what to think. He still doubted that Jonas had done what he was accused of, but he wasn’t sure he was entirely innocent either. Rather than start on that, he decided to move to his other relationships.
“Yeah, Macy dumped me.” There was a long pause until he continued. “Guess she thinks I’m going under.”
Barry made a comment on her disloyalty, suggesting she’d never been right for him.
“Guess that makes me an idiot for falling for her then.” Jonas shrugged.
Barry asked about his parents, and what they thought about everything.
“What do you think?” was all Jonas said.
Barry didn’t say anything more about his parents but voiced his support. Whether or not Jonas had done anything, Barry felt it was his role to let him know he still had a friend.
“I just need some time to figure things out,” Jonas said as they started to head back. “The company gave me some time off while they look into it.”
Barry wondered how that worked. If he was under suspicion, he didn’t think they would let him travel very far. He decided not to think about it. He didn’t need to worry about the company covering their interests.
Life changed slightly while Jonas was in town. Most evenings were spent with him, either at the beach, a bar, or Rick’s house. This took time away from the whales, which Barry was initially disappointed to lose. But the more he talked with Jonas, the more he remembered how good it was to have a close friend. Barry did take him out to see the whales as well, which helped balance his passion for the creatures.
“They’re cool and all, but I don’t see what you like about them so much,” Jonas confessed as they sat in the boat, waiting for the gray behemoths. “I mean, whale-watching is something people do on vacations and stuff. Don’t you get bored of it?”
Barry waited a moment to let Jonas’ stupidity sink in. As far as he was concerned, there was no hobby superior to studying whales—not one he had access to, that is.
After he’d let Jonas think about what he’d said, Barry shared some of his reasons to make a passion out of whales. He explained their peaceful natures, intelligence, complexity, and many other convincing features that made them some of the best creatures on the planet.
“But why do you care?” Jonas asked, as if Barry hadn’t said anything. “I mean, people are just as complex. More complex. But you’re not studying them.”
Jonas’ follow-up stopped Barry. He saw a different side of the question now, one that might have been clear to everyone but himself.
Barry posed a question in response, asking if Jonas thought he should be interacting with people more.
“I mean, maybe. No, I don’t know.” Jonas shrugged and glanced at the calm sea. “People aren’t all that great.” He stopped and shrugged again. “Some of them aren’t so bad.”
Barry was confused by how uncertain he was on a topic he’d started.
“People suck,” Jonas concluded, dipping his hand in the water.
Barry agreed, noting that this proved the superiority of whales.
“But you’ve got to have some people,” Jonas continued after thinking a moment. Without hearing his tone, Barry couldn’t tell who he might be referring to. “I mean, who do you have when I’m gone?”
Barry countered, asking who he had.
“Yeah,” Jonas shrugged. “Guess we’re both trying to figure it out.”
A cloud of water burst into the air, signaling the presence of the whales. Jonas turned and watched as several more joined it. The whales rose to the surface, some taking a moment to roll or lazily raise their tails. The majority simply came up for air and then kept moving, however. Occasionally, a calf would get a little sidetracked and a mother would come by to correct it. Barry could hear the constant chatter within the pod, but Jonas could only see them. Barry wondered if this was why he was so obsessed with the whales. Maybe he had some kind of connection to them that other people didn’t. Maybe hearing whales wasn’t his brain coping with hearing loss—maybe it was a gift.
“That was pretty cool,” Jonas nodded after the whales had gone. “But still not worth sticking around here for.”
After they’d sat still a moment, Barry felt it was time to be honest. He leaned forward and asked Jonas if he was in any kind of trouble at all—if he was guilty of anything the company was accusing him of.
At first, Jonas was livid.
“Of course not.” He scowled and continued. “You know me, I’d never do something like that. I left that stuff back here.”
Barry was patient, knowing better than to believe him so quickly. They’d cheated each other plenty of times when they were younger and it always took several attempts to get the truth.
“There might be a bit of truth,” he finally confessed. “But not everything they’re saying. I’m not guilty of all that.”
After a moment of excuses and justifications, Barry asked Jonas what he planned to do now that they were looking into him.
“I don’t know.” He looked at his hands, as if he was surprised he’d done what he did. “I never thought they’d find out.” Realizing that wasn’t much of an answer, he gave a better one. “I guess it depends on what they do. If they drag this whole thing out I could be in serious trouble. But maybe I’ll get out of it. Maybe they won’t have enough proof or something.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’m done there.”
Barry couldn’t help but realize how small Jonas’ chances of a clean escape were. From what he could tell, he was already in enough trouble to get fired and possibly sent to jail. If it could worse, Barry was certain it would. Big companies take every precaution to cover their assets, that could be relied on.
“Maybe I should just run,” Jonas said, smiling afterward to imply he was joking. Barry hoped he was joking. Running would be worse than jail. Running meant a longer jail sentence once he was caught.
Barry expressed his concern, as well as his perspective on the subject. If things were truly as bad as he believed they could be, he suggested coming clean and hoping for the best.
“Come clean?” Jonas wasn’t confused, he was merely considering the option. “Might be for the best.”
Barry knew Jonas well enough to know that wasn’t at all what he was thinking. He’d always been one to ditch when it came time to pay the piper. They both had been. Even as kids, they’d turn their backs on each other in a heartbeat knowing the other would do the same thing in their situation. Jonas wasn’t thinking about turning himself in.
“I’ll figure it out,” Jonas said as they turned back to shore. “No need to worry about me.”
That night, as he lay awake listening to the whales, Barry knew what Jonas would decide. He hadn’t changed since their early days and could be counted on to jump ship if there was a leak. It made him sick, and he sent several texts restating his suggestion to turn himself in. But he knew Jonas would have to take his penance when it caught up to him. Until then, he would run as far and as fast as he could.
The next day, Jonas surprised Barry with a text asking if they could go whale-watching again. Barry knew it was less about the whales than it was about spending time together, but he also suspected it was about something else. He knew Jonas well enough to know he had something on his mind—something he planned on telling Barry while they were alone on the boat. Barry hoped it was that he’d decided to turn himself in but he knew there was a possibility he’d ask him to help with an escape plan. They’d organized many elaborate escapes in their youth, but only from parents and shopkeepers, never companies with millions of dollars to throw at them. Whether he wanted to or not, Barry couldn’t do much to help.
The rest of the day dragged on slowly, Barry’s mind preoccupied with the meeting with Jonas. Twice, Nita tapped his shoulder to get his attention and then gestured to a job he was supposed to be doing or had not done correctly. That made Barry wonder if he was worried. He wasn’t easily worried, especially not about other people’s problems. He’d hardly even been worried about his hearing loss several days after it had happened.
Once work was over, Barry stopped by home to drop off his things and then drove his bike to Rick’s. Jonas was waiting on the porch, rocking lazily on the porch while Rick mumbled to himself in the garage. The sun was high but beginning its descent as the two set off toward the dock in an orange-yellow world. There was an especial laziness to the water that evening. Every fragment of light that bounced off the rippling waves seemed heavy and slow. The breeze was warm, easing them forward even though it pushed against the boat. By the time they reached a good place to wait, the sun was so comfortably positioned that Barry felt he’d never have to leave.
“Thanks Barry,” the app translated. “I wanted to come out here before I turned myself in.”
Barry kept his eyes on the crimson horizon, his phone in front of him and Jonas behind him.
“You were right,” it read. “I can’t outrun this.”
Barry affirmed his decision as he studied the screen.
“Just remember me how I was, alright?”
Barry didn’t answer but knew he would always remember Jonas as the boy he grew up with. Nothing could change the memories he’d carried this far.
“All that stuff we did as kids,” there was a pause. “That’s who I really was.”
The boat rocked slightly and Barry leaned forward, scanning for whales. As he did, he gave as much encouragement as he could to Jonas. He knew he’d need it now more than ever—facing the consequences was something neither of them had ever done very well. Barry assured him he wouldn’t be alone, he’d visit him as often as he could and call if he was allowed to. That was what friends were for. In a moment of realization, Barry concluded that everyone needs friends.
After a minute or two had passed and he caught no sight of the whales, Barry turned around.
Jonas was gone.
Barry called his name, scrambling to the back and searching the nearby waters. He saw only vapid reflections appearing and dissolving with steady ripples.
He heard nothing, not even the whales.
Barry continued calling, turning the boat to circle the area they’d been in. He was shouting Jonas’ name all the while and only noticed he was crying when he stopped the boat.
The sea was calm, gentle wavelets dipping and rising to nudge the boat. The sun was near the horizon, stretching a long golden scar over the sea that shimmered and bled. The breeze was growing cooler, with just enough of a chill to raise goosebumps.
Finally, a slow mournful wail echoed through his ears.
Barry turned and watched the gray shape ooze to the surface before it fired off a pillar of water.
Its voice was no longer so fascinating; as Barry watched it, he just wanted to hear Jonas. He recalled the last time he had heard his voice: their phone conversation before he’d come to town. Barry closed his eyes and held onto the sound of his voice. As he did, he started missing Rick’s, Nita’s—even Tina’s airy tone.
Alone, whales mourning with him, Barry held his face in his hands and cried.
Barry lay in bed a long portion of the time he wasn’t at work. He stared up at the ceiling, images shifting in and out of his memory.
He saw his conversation with Rick after returning to shore. As Rick opened his mouth and began shouting, Barry had been glad he couldn’t hear. Jonas’ estranged family member had never looked so attached to anything as he had when he’d gone sprinting down to the beach that night.
He remembered a lonely funeral, a few indifferent acquaintances standing around the long black box. No one had said anything. Rick had tried, but nothing had come out of his mouth—nothing that Barry’s app could translate. It hadn’t rained during the funeral, something that seemed wrong to Barry. Instead, the sun beat down on everyone, refusing to shed a tear for the man so few of them really knew.
Barry remembered going back to work on Monday, suddenly questioning what he was doing with his life. The pharmacy seemed cramped and oppressive, his lunch period long and empty. But then other memories stirred.
Childhood schemes, a fistfight with Jonas, getting in trouble at school. These memories were comforting. They were doing what Jonas had asked him to. As far as he was concerned, his childhood friend had never come back. He was still messing around in the wide world, causing trouble for somebody.
As the days went on, the doctor’s predictions came true: Barry’s hearing gradually returned. It began in increments, little pieces of sound here and there. But with each increment, new revelations began to form. As his impairment faded, Barry felt like he was living in an entirely different atmosphere. Every time he heard Tina sigh after finishing a video or noticed an empty cigarette box in the trash can, he felt alone. He felt what Jonas must have felt. He wondered if they felt it too—if Allen secretly wanted someone to force their way into his corner to talk to him. He even thought about Rick, his hostile attitude toward everything, man and machine. Wasn’t he looking for something, just like they were? Everyone in the pharmacy was missing something, but no one did anything about it. Barry wished it was simpler. As he heard the mournful wails miles away from the pharmacy, he wished the only thing any of them needed was a great blue ocean to swim in. If that was it, all they had to do was walk down to the beach. But it wasn’t; for the first time, Barry wondered if the whales and quiet sunsets were enough for him. He wondered if, after five more years at Have-It-All, he would still be satisfied with where he was. He wondered how long the whales could keep him satisfied.
As these thoughts ruminated, encouraged by the serene language of the ocean, Barry decided he didn’t want to wait to figure out. After he’d finished restocking a shelf, he made his down to the end of the pharmacy. Stepping through the rows of pills, he found Allen. The man was as he’d always been: arched at his desk without a thought toward the world around him—none that anyone knew. Barry pulled up a chair and sat down to begin a conversation.
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