“The thing was, he didn’t want to kill the whale. It was friendly, he said. It was timid. It was young. the People taught him well. And then, Goddamn me, Ruth, I fired and we all fired. I had my own brother in my hand, that’s what we called it, an M16. Hell, I’m surprised anything was left of the poor creature. It was like war all over again, and we were warriors, only then he tried to stop the men even if it was too late and the canoe overturned. I did stop them. In the war, at least. Then on the water.” He is silent, mulling it over while she doesn’t know what to think of this man she once knew so well, after just forgiving him everything. “Maybe I wanted to be Witka. I came back to prove something. That I could be one of us. But in truth, he was us. He was Witka. But how I wanted. How I yearned. I longed for something.”

She stands, waiting for this man to shut up and leave. He had gone against her own son. Then Dwight had killed the boy.

She has no idea what is on his mind. She just sees his expression. She puts her hand on his. The boat slowly rocks. “Thomas.” Again she speaks, “Thomas?”

He doesn’t realize how his own face looks. They are quiet awhile. Then she says, “You should leave now.”

“What?”

“You went against Marco. My son. Ours. How can you come here to me? How could you have touched me!”

He looks at her wide-open eyes, the flecks of red in them. “Ruth, you are my only family.”

“I’m not. And Thomas, I am not coming back to you if that is what is on your mind.” Her eyes are clear, disarming, as if she sees what he sees, knows what he knows. It’s not about the whale. Not even about Marco.

He looks down. “I know it. I didn’t expect you to. That’s not why I came.”

In spite of it all, she closes her hand around his, caressing it, the familiar hand she has known all her life, then stops herself. “There are all the years, the lies. The times I’ve had no money. I went to the army and they said our marriage didn’t exist. It wasn’t even on the record. There were times when there were no fish, no jobs, and you were gone. And now I want you to go.”

He sees her dark eyes fill with tears. They come from nowhere that can be explained by anything but feeling. They come from everywhere, like the rain. “Ruth, I ran away from you. I never even asked for an explanation for anything. I never gave one. I just ran. From everything.”

“You ran out of our lives.”

“No, really, I fell over the edge.” Suddenly he wants to explain everything to her.

He looks at her. “You must hate me.”

The darkness is lowering itself outside. Rain. Ocean. Storm. Evening. He sees the swaying of things underwater, how the fish hold their own in it and how he can’t hold his own in still air.