Toothed
—
Jessica Dawn
EVERYONE AT THE BAR IS
talking about the dolphin. Tourists mostly. Always tourists this time of year. Feel like I’m the only local posted up. Bartender keeps sliding me cans of Tecate and I keep drinking them. Phone keeps buzzing in my pocket. Don’t need to look. Know it’s Danny, that it’s about mom. Last time she fell. Been the memory for a while now. The shakes. Been the home nurse that quit when mom scratched up her arm, her face. Don’t need to look to know it’s bad news. It’s always bad news.
Ever have to deal with your parents getting older I ask the bartender. T-shirt’s tight across his chest, shoulders. Sleeves rolled up short. Bet it’s good for tips. Blonde hair gelled into a hard shell. I’ve got drinks to make lady is what he says back. Why don’t you talk to the damn dolphin about it.
Dolphin’s already got a pretty bad rap, at least no one’s excited as they were when it first showed up. Would’ve been a crowd out here a few days ago, before the videos of it swearing at all those kids, telling them to get their filthy feet out of its goddamn ocean. Of it swimming up and down the pier and calling the crowd a bunch of fucking losers. Of it ripping into those kids because they were too young to bring it some smokes and splashing them and telling them to fucking run, run you stupid shits. Of it heckling the tourists, telling them to get out of here in those stupid sandals. Go back to fucking Nebraska it’s yelling as they walk away. Guess no one feels like getting heckled by a large aquatic mammal cause the crowd’s getting awful thin. Few people walking dogs, couple joggers. Everyone else keeps their distance. Could be gone the way no one’s even looking at the water but I spot it, gray head bobbing next to the jetty. Saying something to a couple teenagers in wetsuits, looks like. They’re tucking boogie boards under their arms and shuffling away. Flip flops go thwock thwock thwock.
Not exactly a beach down there. Not exactly easy picking down the rocks in old Doc Martens. Dolphin’s watching me struggle. Know it’ll have some smart ass thing to say if I fall. Don’t want to give it the satisfaction. Think about the time Danny ate it taking his bike off a ramp the neighbors set up out in the cul-de-sac. Play stupid games win stupid prizes she told him when he came in with an arm full of road rash.
Get close and all it’s got to say is “Tell me you have a goddamn cigarette.” Lucky for both of us there’s a pack in my pocket, two left rattling around inside. Light them both and hold one out far as I can until that beak full of little round teeth can reach. Puffs a couple smoke rings out its blowhole. Neat trick.
“Suppose you want something from me now,” dolphin croaks. Cig hangs out the side of its mouth. Never heard a dolphin’s voice before. Sounds like sighing through a harmonica. Sounds like a windbreaker swishing against itself. Sounds like talking while breathing in. Big eyes look right at me. Lines around those eyes. Didn’t know dolphins could get crows feet but there they are. Didn’t know dolphins could have bags under their eyes. Guess everything can be sleep deprived.
“You’ve got until this smoke’s done so spit it out” the dolphin says. Won’t be long by the looks of it, already half ash. Still hanging on, still cigarette shaped. Any second it’ll fall, get scattered by the wind. Any second. Any second now. Here it goes. •
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Jessica Dawn lives on an island in the San Francisco Bay with a failed farm dog. Her work has appeared in HAD, Short Story Long, Identity Theory, and more. She’s currently working on a novel and a short story collection.
Website | Bluesky | Instagram
Ever have to deal with your parents getting older I ask the bartender. T-shirt’s tight across his chest, shoulders. Sleeves rolled up short. Bet it’s good for tips. Blonde hair gelled into a hard shell. I’ve got drinks to make lady is what he says back. Why don’t you talk to the damn dolphin about it.
Dolphin’s already got a pretty bad rap, at least no one’s excited as they were when it first showed up. Would’ve been a crowd out here a few days ago, before the videos of it swearing at all those kids, telling them to get their filthy feet out of its goddamn ocean. Of it swimming up and down the pier and calling the crowd a bunch of fucking losers. Of it ripping into those kids because they were too young to bring it some smokes and splashing them and telling them to fucking run, run you stupid shits. Of it heckling the tourists, telling them to get out of here in those stupid sandals. Go back to fucking Nebraska it’s yelling as they walk away. Guess no one feels like getting heckled by a large aquatic mammal cause the crowd’s getting awful thin. Few people walking dogs, couple joggers. Everyone else keeps their distance. Could be gone the way no one’s even looking at the water but I spot it, gray head bobbing next to the jetty. Saying something to a couple teenagers in wetsuits, looks like. They’re tucking boogie boards under their arms and shuffling away. Flip flops go thwock thwock thwock.
Not exactly a beach down there. Not exactly easy picking down the rocks in old Doc Martens. Dolphin’s watching me struggle. Know it’ll have some smart ass thing to say if I fall. Don’t want to give it the satisfaction. Think about the time Danny ate it taking his bike off a ramp the neighbors set up out in the cul-de-sac. Play stupid games win stupid prizes she told him when he came in with an arm full of road rash.
Get close and all it’s got to say is “Tell me you have a goddamn cigarette.” Lucky for both of us there’s a pack in my pocket, two left rattling around inside. Light them both and hold one out far as I can until that beak full of little round teeth can reach. Puffs a couple smoke rings out its blowhole. Neat trick.
“Suppose you want something from me now,” dolphin croaks. Cig hangs out the side of its mouth. Never heard a dolphin’s voice before. Sounds like sighing through a harmonica. Sounds like a windbreaker swishing against itself. Sounds like talking while breathing in. Big eyes look right at me. Lines around those eyes. Didn’t know dolphins could get crows feet but there they are. Didn’t know dolphins could have bags under their eyes. Guess everything can be sleep deprived.
“You’ve got until this smoke’s done so spit it out” the dolphin says. Won’t be long by the looks of it, already half ash. Still hanging on, still cigarette shaped. Any second it’ll fall, get scattered by the wind. Any second. Any second now. Here it goes. •
Jessica Dawn lives on an island in the San Francisco Bay with a failed farm dog. Her work has appeared in HAD, Short Story Long, Identity Theory, and more. She’s currently working on a novel and a short story collection.
Website | Bluesky | Instagram