Jaws and the Mighty Love Bite

Maybe the reason I wonder if I’m different is because no one ever stays the same. Sure, Heather’s still popular and she’s still dating Oakleaf’s version of Tom Brady, but one of these days David’s going to get fat and Heather’s going to turn in her pom poms for a baby stroller.
Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever replace something all encompassing for a new identity. When my mother got married, she cut her hair and told me she didn’t need the hassle anymore. I couldn’t imagine giving up books, but then again, David probably can’t imagine a life without football either.

This afternoon, I walked past the bus stop and walk into town. There’s a coffee shop there. Not the like Starbucks, where people largely come for wifi and coffee, but the kind where you go and the space welcomes you to stay. I never ordered coffee there, but I borrow books from their shelves while I wait for Evan to come back from practice. This time, I picked up a story of a man who got attacked by a shark.

When I was younger, I was scared of sharks. Everyone thought I was crazy, to be nervous of the ocean when we were all the way up in New England. When great whites were spotted off the shores of Chatham, I was relieved when people left me alone. In classes, I heard buzzes. My classmates gossiped in droves, about who would be crazy enough to go to Chatham instead of Dennis or Yarmouth after seeing the sharks there. One person suggested that Provincetown was interesting enough as it is without the Jaws talk. I agreed, but it was always Evan that tried to change my mind.

Evan. Lanky, scrawny, pimple-faced Evan. He was fast, which is why the coaches liked him, but everyone else seemed confused when he secured the spot for swim team captain. Evan was the sort of guy that people secretly respected. Evan was like an atlantic cod in a coral reef. He was different, and maybe that’s why I liked being around him so much. He didn’t care about his subtle and unappealing changes. He cared about the great whites.

“Bee!” Evan came into the coffee shop beaming. “I was coming from the gym and I saw one. It came right out of the water. The seal didn’t see it coming! Wham. Like that.”

The coffee shop hadn’t expected the six foot maniac to come barging into the store. One man nearing his sixties even snarled, pulling the New York Times closer to his face. I, however, was used to Evan’s explosive outbursts and inability to understand his surroundings. I watch his hands swing, nearly hitting the bagels, the books, and one customer’s latte. I put down my book, an accomplishment in its own right, and follow him outside, where he points to the beach and starts running.

My fear of sharks is irrational. You’re more likely to be killed by bee stings, vending machines, and my father’s sorry attempt at cooking than be even bitten by a shark. I knew this, and still, their endless rows of teeth upset me. Their jaws were constantly replaced by additional knives, and I imagined how awful it must be, if just nicking yourself with a razor was painful.

“Bee, come on!” Evan shouted. “You’re going to miss it.”

When I reached the top of the sand dune, I saw vague hints of blood wash onto shore. The ocean was splotched with a dark red, fading quickly into the blues and greens. I couldn’t help but wonder how close the shark was to the shoreline. The seals were gawking on the beachfront, clustered together and panicked.

“So it was over there?”  I asked, sitting down. I felt the sand sticking to my thighs.

“Isn’t it crazy, how powerful they are?” Evan was still high on excitement. He shifted his feet until the sand engulfed his ankles. Then he paused, and let his lips sink close to his jawline.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was upset about. The town had mentioned the culling of sharks close to popular beach spots, and this beach, with its white sand and pleasant water, was a favorite local and tourist attraction. The shark had been too close, and the seals called out to the government in hopes of seeing their worst fears disappear.

“I can’t do anything for them,” Evan mentioned. “I have swim team, and I’m captain, and the coaches say I may be up for a scholarship or two next year.”

“Breathe,” I found myself saying. I didn’t know what I’d say next until I heard it myself. “Maybe I could organize a rally or something. ‘Save the Sharks!’ or something.”

Evan’s face lit up like a book light glowing through the twilight. My heart felt warm, just briefly, and I realized that I’m also smiling. When he let go, I could see his apprehension.

“Gosh, are you sure? Wouldn’t it take away from your blog?”

“I’m already almost at the end of my booklist anyway,” I said, even though that wasn’t even remotely true. There were still fifty books left on my to-read list, easily. Somehow though, that doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

The months leading up to the event were faced with nerves and curious glances. Everyone in the school had taunted me, one point or another, of my refusal to swim at the beach because of the sharks. Now that there was a method put in place to secure my pleasant time in the ocean, and I don't want any part in it. I heard the rumors echoing down the halls like whale songs. Still, I place the flyers up at school anyway. I scheduled a meeting at the town hall. My converses tapped on the hardwood floor while I wait for my name to be called.

“Miss Palmer is here to discuss her plans for beach safety efforts,” the mayor mentioned while I stand up. 

“Hello. As you know, the sharks are being seen more and more off our coastlines. Now, I’ve never been fond of sharks either.” I said as my lungs grew tighter. I take a deep breath. “But the ocean is their home. I will be holding a rally to prevent the newest town halls plans, and instead, ask people to take photos of when they see great whites on the beaches. The time, the season, and any activity they see. That way, we can better understand why and how often the sharks come the closest to shore.”

Murmurs. The mayor gestured for me to sit down, “Thank you for your input."

I don’t sit down.

“It’s tomorrow at 10am. At the beach closest to Oakleaf High. I’m hosting the event until 3pm. They’ll be hot dogs and hamburgers for everyone who comes, and I’ll have activities for kids too. Cleaning up the beach gives you any leftovers. I hope to see everyone there,” I say, and I sit down. My heart is racing, and the townsfolk go silent. I noticed my science teacher is there. That my neighbor was nodding. But most of all, I saw Evan smiling silently by the door. His hair was still wet from swim practice, and he gave me a thumbs up as he left before anyone noticed the puddle of chlorinated water in the entranceway.

More people came to the Shark Awareness Event than I ever thought possible. The whole school seemed to be there. I noticed that David and his friends carried trash bags to secure their second plate of food, and soon enough, Heather was with her friends tanning on the beach. Parents with small children played shark trivia games. Most importantly though, Evan arrived, his hair dripping and smiling his goofy, toothy grin.

“Bee, I can’t believe it,” he swung his arm around my neck. “The whole town is here.”

“Yeah, I can hardly myself,” I looked at him, feeling warm and hoping he assumed I was sunburned.

He kissed me on the cheek. “It was really great of you to do this for me, Beatrice.”

As Evan turned into to the rally, I knew that the culling ordinance won’t be passing anytime soon. The mayor listened to him intently, and then gives an embarrassed expression before mentioning he thinks he has a better idea of what the people care about now. 

I looked towards the coffee shop, and suddenly its lights seem dimmer, and I realize I don’t miss it as much as I thought I would. I haven’t read any books in weeks. I’m no longer anxious about the water. Evan dove in, shouting, “I told you this place was for the both of us!”

For a moment, I thought he was talking about us. And maybe he was. I slipped into the ocean. Laughing, we held each other's hands.