Whale Of A Tale
Published: August 5th, 2010
By: Shelly Reuben

Whale of a tale

Linda just plain wasn’t a water person.

She turned green when forced to take the Staten Island Ferry, and she would confess to crimes she had not committed to avoid going on any boat. She even jokingly claimed that she got seasick while taking a bath.

So she had no idea why, on that sunny autumn morning when she stood before the window of a ramshackle store that sold straw hats and saltwater taffy, she did what she did. In thinking back on it later, she concluded that she had been beguiled by the crinkles around the light blue eyes of the Captain of the boat. He was leaning against a sign that advertised his whaling adventure. Twelve people stood in line beside him, chatting amiably and waiting to buy tickets from a younger man with the same blue eyes.

Father. Son. Linda decided. Then her eyes met those of the sea captain. His sun battered face broke into a fleeting grin, and he winked at her. Instead of being offended, Linda laughed. He had such a nice, grandfatherly face. She turned to appraise the boat gently bobbing in the dock.


The Evening Sun

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