JONAH
By khaleesian
In hindsight, Fraser thought
that it was incredibly brave of Ray to bring Moby Dick to the stakeout.
Originally, he had only
tacitly commended Ray’s foresight. The taped surveillance of the A&M
warehouse promised to be exceedingly tedious. Detectives Huey and Dewey had
already laid claim to the bulky audio monitoring equipment in the front of the
van (Ray’s antipathy to gadgets was already well established). Fraser and Ray
were thus confined to a semi-crouch in the dark belly of the van, positioned to
burst out after confirmation that the smuggling ring was active and operational
today. Van surveillance differed greatly from car surveillance. It differed
immensely from the open-air surveillance to which he had been accustomed, but no
one wanted to hear Fraser’s opinions on the subject.
Two men and a wolf made for
rather cramped quarters. After complaining about Dief’s incessant panting in his
face and glaring at Fraser, Ray had casually pulled the paperback from his coat
pocket and augmented the watery light filtering in from the rear windows with a
police-issue Maglite.
Fraser was aware that most
American police officers had a thinly veiled disgust for anything that smacked
of intellectual endeavor but hadn’t witnessed it directed at anyone other than
himself for quite some time.
He had been opening his
mouth to ask Ray his opinion of the book but was forestalled by Detective Dewey who had started in at
once. “Oooh, that’s a big book, you got there Vecchio. Sure you aren’t going to
need some help with that?”
Fraser quickly shifted gears
and was opening his mouth again to defend Ray’s literacy, which was rather
foolish upon consideration. Ray was nothing if not capable of defending himself.
“Hardy ha-ha. That’s rich
coming from you, considering you don’t know your ass from your elbow. I’m
surprised you realized it was a book, y’know, something you read?
It was interesting to note
how Ray, who often found himself grasping for words, would become highly verbal
when in the grip of a sudden fit of anger. Words abruptly poured forth in a
torrent when Ray was lubricated by rage. Fraser spent a few moments trying to
think of a better word than ‘lubricated’ when a new voice brought him back to
the argument.
“Didn’t you read that in high school, Ray? College?” Huey asked, keeping the peace in a bored tone.
Ray seemed to tighten up at
the question. Fraser thought it was interesting that while most people used
their glasses as a shield, Ray whipped his off even upon entering a verbal fray.
Upon reflection, it was understandable. The hectic blue of Ray’s eyes was as
good as a blow.
“No, I did not,” Ray clipped
his words in a way that Fraser was coming to realize indicated Ray was more
aggravated than normal. “I was too busy fucking around and dropping out to
bother with the finer points of the reading list. I’m reading it now and you’re
sitting there holding your di--”
“I just don’t want to spend
the day watching your lips move as you sound out the big words.” Dewey’s voice
was casual, but Fraser could feel that he was poised to
flee.
“Watch your own lips,” Ray
snarled. “Kissing my ass.”
Fraser decided it was time to intervene, “You know, it’s really remarkable how practically every culture that has contact with the sea has incorporated whales into their mythos. Naturally, the Inuit have some fascinating legends. There is the story of a tribe hunting for white whales and seals at the ice edge late in the spring…”
Fraser visualized his words
as an avalanche burying the three of them and cooling them down. Huey was the
first to glaze over, while Dewey was stuck at some shade of disbelief. Ray
was…different. Ray watched his face very intently as he was speaking, but
somehow Fraser didn’t think that Ray was completely engrossed in the
story.
“…As the whale dove, the
woman got tangled in the harpoon line and was pulled out into deep water.
Sometimes out at sea you can still hear the woman calling, ‘Luma,
Luma’."
There was a longish pause
and then Ray asked evenly, “Fraser, did that have anything to do with anything
or was it just a whale-related anecdote?”
Fraser smiled in what he
hoped was a winning manner, “It seemed germane.”
Dewey mumbled, “Nutty
Canuck.”
“Oh, jeez, Dewey, what
tipped you off? Was it the hat, maybe?” Fraser could see the exact moment where
Ray discarded sarcasm and hefted sheer fury. “Yeah, he’s Canadian, what the holy
hell is your excuse?”
Naturally, that touched off
another heated exchange. Fraser was momentarily dismayed that the peace his
story had bought them was so short-lived and then felt a moment of unexpected
warmth when he realized that Ray was, in his own way, defending Fraser’s
eccentricity. It struck him that
unlike the former Vecchio, this Ray was as much a stranger to the unit as he
was. In which light, Ray’s actions seemed all the more courageous. Fraser
himself was intimately familiar with the peril and freedom of not fitting in. He
was resigned to it. He could use his role of outsider to make detailed
observations. Like the observation that American males protected themselves not
with a shield of politeness, but with swords and spears of derision, disgust and
apathy.
After their little
discussion wound down, Huey and Dewey seemed to decide unilaterally to leave
well enough alone and were quickly engrossed in a dissection of the Bear’s
passing game. Ray ostentatiously picked up his book again. Fraser leaned back
and tried to not think about anything except keeping his muscles from cramping.
It was odd, considering how busy he tried to keep himself, how much time
insisted on catching up with him and allowing his thoughts to wreak havoc on his
equilibrium. What did Jonah think about, he wondered whimsically, trapped in the
belly of the whale? After twenty minutes of this, he sighed and attempted to
start a conversation with Ray on neutral ground.
“It’s a fine book, Ray. I
hope you’re enjoying it.”
Ray raised his eyebrows and
suddenly looked very young. “You read it?”
Ray continued almost under
his breath, “What am I saying, of course you have.”
Fraser couldn’t put his
finger on quite why Ray looked so young. From reviewing Ray’s file he knew they
were about the same age. There was some odd alchemy in the planes and angles of
his face, long eyelashes and the hair of a towheaded boy. Wait a second, weren’t
they supposed to be having a conversation? Not simply staring at each
other?
“What do you think of it?”
Fraser asked gently.
“It’s kind of bizarre.” Ray
seemed suddenly a bit shy.
“It is a bit…experimental,”
Fraser agreed.
“I’m only on chapter eleven
and it’s just…the characters…I can’t really get inside their heads.”
Fraser cast his mind back.
He’d been twelve when he’d devoured the book but it had remarkable staying power
in his memory. Some of the phrases like, “the damp, drizzly November in my soul’
came to him at odd times.
“Well, there’s Ishmael, the
narrator, who wants to crew on a whaling ship.”
“Yeah, but why? I mean, he
seems like a pretty smart guy and pretty…aware…of how hard it’s gonna
be…”
Fraser began choosing his
words carefully, “I think that it’s implied somewhere that Ishmael has some
…difficulties…that he’s trying to escape.”
Ray’s gaze turned inward,
“OK, OK, I get that, I guess.” He grinned at Fraser sheepishly. “Then there’s
the other one…the harpooner.”
“Queequeg,”
“Yeah, him. Is that really
how you say it?”
“Just like it’s spelled,
Ray.”
Ray glanced at him warily,
as if wondering if he should take offense. Fraser kept his face carefully blank.
Ray seemed to reassure himself that Fraser hadn’t suddenly acquired a sense of
humor and continued.
“It’s just…I don’t get…Why
are they…” Ray trailed off. He tilted his head down and gave Fraser a pained,
vulnerable smile.
Fraser had some idea of what
Ray was trying to ask but he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. He tried to
make his aspect as encouraging as possible. Ray made several abortive gestures
and then ducked his head again, “you know, why are they…?”
Fraser decided to ‘bite the
bullet’, “Sleeping together? In the same bed?”
A sudden silence descended
on the van. Oh dear.
“Yeah, that,” With the idea
finally baldly stated, Ray seemed to relax a little. “What’s the deal with
that?”
“Well, ostensibly it’s
because there isn’t enough room at the inn.”
“Well, yeah, but…doesn’t
that seem a bit…I mean, aren’t there always …alternatives?” Ray was naturally
dubious.
Fraser spoke quickly to
preclude any comments from Detective Dewey.
“Well, you’ve already
observed how much Melville uses symbolism and allegory. I think he used that
particular plot device to illustrate that Ishmael and Queequeg become very close
friends rather quickly despite their immense differences in cultural
heritage.”
“By sleeping together? In
the same bed, I mean.”
“Ray, you must understand
that the book was written in 1851 and Melville was going for a certain shock
value…”
“By having them sleep
together? I mean in the same bed?”
“Well, ah, no that was
relatively commonplace due to issues of …ah…economy. What were really shocking
were Queequeg’s blasphemous opinions and actions. After all, Queequeg was a
tattooed cannibal who worshipped strange idols. He might as well have come from
the moon. Melville was just attempting to expand the minds of his rather
provincial readership by showing that Queequeg was a good man, despite his
difference and that Ishmael and Queequeg could be intimate
friends.”
“Mhmmm, friends,” said
Dewey, drawing little quotation marks in the air. “Who happen to sleep
together.”
“In the same bed,” Huey
chimed in.
“What are you, the studio
audience?” Ray exploded. “You got one conversation that you’re supposed to be
listening in on and it’s out there,”
he stabbed two fingers toward the back doors, “Not in here, you freakin’
losers.”
“I’m just saying…” Dewey started.
“Nothing!” Ray’s lips were
peeled back, his teeth completely bared as he drew his fingers across his throat
in an unmistakable gesture of mayhem. “Nothing, nada, zippo, zilch, is what
you’re saying! Right? Right?” His eyes flashed between Huey and Dewey as if
deciding which one to gut and skin first. Dewey attempted to shrug it off with
an eye-roll, while Huey raised his hands in a mute plea for
mercy.
“My, that Yank is certainly
hot-tempered, son. Hope you’ll be a calming influence on him,” came a voice from
Fraser’s elbow.
This had happened often
enough that Fraser managed to quell his instinct to flinch completely. He slowly
turned to face his father who had somehow insinuated himself between Diefenbaker
and the door. Fraser Sr. continued
oblivious to the fact that Fraser was rather firmly engaged with the living,
“Good sign that he’s reading. I wouldn’t have thought it of him.” The senior
Fraser frowned down at his hat and then perked up as an idea struck him.
“Perhaps he’s trying to impress you?”
Fraser decided that 10:00AM
was far too early to succumb to despair.
As was so often the case with his father, he was completely at a loss for
an appropriate response. Unless…
He tried to mimic Ray’s
forcefulness as he skinned his own lips back, baring his teeth and dragged his
own hand like a cutlass across his throat.
His father blinked at him in astonishment and then vanished. Well! Of
course, he might be regretting it later, but really, that had worked rather
well. Fraser’s inward smile lasted until he looked back at Ray whose eyebrows
were arched in a way that indicated he’d seen everything.
“Diefenbaker mouthing off
again?” Ray couldn’t quite keep the affection out of his voice.
It was appalling how much he
relied on the assumptions of others. Fraser contented himself with a quick
subject change.
“When you’ve finished the
book, I’ll be interested to hear what you think about the symbolic nature of the
whale. My grandparents were evenly divided. My grandmother thought it symbolized
the power of God, while my grandfather believed that the whale represented the
indifferent forces of nature. But, of course, it could just be a
whale.”
“What do you do with a blue
whale?” asked Huey, doing Groucho Marx eyebrows
“Cheer it up,” deadpanned
Dewey.
“I petted a whale once,”
said Ray unexpectedly.
“I beg your pardon?” Fraser
wondered if this was the start to another joke. For some reason, Huey and Dewey
let this remark pass unchallenged.
Dief cocked his head.
“Vacation,
“It’s a funny thing about whales…I mean you know that they’re mammals…seems as though if you don’t learn anything else in school, they make sure you know that whales and dolphins are mammals, just like us.”
Fraser opened his mouth and then shut it when he realized that he wanted nothing more than to hear the rest of the story. Huey had leaned forward with his fist on his hand.
Ray continued, staring into space as if he were alone or reminiscing. “The thing is…I knew about the mammal thing…but I never really believed it until I touched the whale. It was late in the day and they were closing the park up and me ‘n Stell just happened to be walking by where they kept the son of Shamu…I forget the name. Anyways, one of those perky trainer gals asked us if we wanted to pet the whale before they put ‘em in the whale bed or whatever.”
Ray stared at the toes of his boots, grinning slightly. Fraser tried to imagine Ray and Stella walking arm in arm through the water park. Was it like a zoo?
“So we hopped to it, I think Stella was a little creeped out by the entire thing….the water that they swim in is cold, really cold and the whale’s back feels like cold, wet slippery rubber. But the thing is, when they hold still and you press your hand on them and leave it for a few seconds, you feel the warmth underneath. Beneath the thick cold wet skin, it’s really warm. All of a sudden, this huge thing is really alive.”
Ray glanced at Fraser and seemed to suddenly lose his train of thought. He shook his head a little and concluded.
“And even though they’re really big and powerful, they don’t mind if you pet them. It’s cool.”
Fraser was spared having to formulate a response to that by Huey’s sudden call for silence. They waited tensely while the tape picked up garbled commands and then came clear as two of the bosses walked into range. As soon as they muttered that peculiar incantation of incriminating dialogue, he and Ray were out and running, circling around the warehouse for what Ray would later term a ‘clean bust’. The day was still bright sunshine and one of the younger malfeasants led Fraser on a merry chase over the docks. It felt good to really run after being cooped up for so long.
After the interminable booking paperwork was concluded Ray tapped Fraser’s shoulder with his fist. “You want food?”
“Why certainly, Ray. What did you have in mind?”
“Was thinking that new Thai place round the corner. In the mood for noodles.” Ray was shrugging into his jacket but he turned around with a dancer’s grace. “You could explain to me more about the book…”
Fraser had to push his heels down very firmly to keep from bouncing down the stairs. “It’s really a great example of early American literature. It’s got a little of everything, action, drama, philosophy, adventure…”
“Romance,” Ray mused.
Fraser tugged on his collar as they descended to the street. Silly to blush. “Ah, yes, I suppose so.”
“It’s great to have someone to talk to about stuff like this. Not like those boneheads,” Ray curled his lip in the general direction of the 27th.
“Well, I’m always glad to oblige.” Fraser thought his response sounded rather weak to his own ears.
But Ray’s grin was certainly energizing. “Yeah, I can see that. You seem to know a lot more about …what was it? Symbolism and allegory than I do.”
Fraser started to demur, “I’m sure that’s not true, Ray.”
But Ray just cocked his fingers like a pistol and winked at Fraser, “Call me Ishmael.”
End for now…
Ever read Moby Dick? It’s a slash riot.
Thus, then, in our hearts' honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg—a cosy, loving pair.
-Chapter 10 ‘A Bosom Friend’ Moby Dick by Herman Melville
And since you’ve been so patient with me, here’s a dirty whale joke for your trouble:
Two whales are swimming
along one day, bored. One whale spots a ship and suggests to the other, "Hey,
why don't we swim under that boat, and spurt out water so it tips over?"
"Well," says the other whale, "I'll give it a blow job, but I refuse to swallow to swallow any sea men!"