The Music of Dolphins by Karen Hesse

In my room today Doctor Beck brings a man of plastic filled with air.

  “Here is something new, Mila,” Doctor Beck says. And she hits the man filled with air. She hits him with her fist. The man drops backward, then pops back up in place.

  “Now you hit him, Mila,” Doctor Beck says.

  I am not understanding.

  Doctor Beck says, “When you feel angry or afraid, you can hit him. You don’t have to hit the walls of your room, you don’t have to hit the door or the windows. If you feel angry or afraid, you can hit him. Then no one is hurt. Do you understand? You mustn’t hurt yourself again.”

  I say, “Doctor Beck, why do you ask me to do this? I do not feel danger from this man filled with air. He is not like the hungry shark. He is not like the orca. He is smiling. Why do you ask me to hit this man who is smiling?”

  Doctor Beck says, “Humans feel aggression, Mila. Aggression is angry feelings. When you hit the walls in your room the other night and made your hands bleed, you felt aggression.”

  I do not understand this aggression. Only the wish to be free. Only the wish to open the door. I do not wish to hit a man filled with air. This will not make me free.

  Doctor Beck says, “It is better to hit this punching man than to hit the walls, Mila. It will not hurt your hands.”

  I say, “Doctor Beck, it is better to open the door. It is better to be free. Then I do not want to hit the walls. I want to think like human. I want to act like human. But I cannot do this thing. I have no need to hit the punching man. Please. Take him away.”

  I made a song for the recorder. It is a song that swam over and over in my head all these days my hands were in bandages. It is made from the notes I know. I put the notes together to make music like dolphins doing slow swimming, brushing the waves, little jumps, little dives, swimming dolphin music.

  “Listen,” I say.

  I play my song for Doctor Peach and Doctor Beck and Doctor Troy and Shay and Sandy and Justin.

  They are very quiet when they hear my song. It makes something happen inside them to hear this music. I can see, the way I see how the dolphins feel.

  They don’t say words when I finish, but I am seeing something in their eyes, I am seeing something in the way they move, I am hearing something inside them. And it is good.

  Tonight I play the music for Mr. Aradondo, the man who cleans the house. I think maybe this making music can help him to be not afraid of me. I come to my door with my recorder and play for him. Drops of wet form on his lip and I taste something through the door, something not good.

  I take the recorder down from my mouth and wipe it against my leg. I touch the glass. “Mr. Aradondo, don’t be afraid.”

  He does not look at me.

  I hit the door once with my flat palm to get his attention. Mr. Aradondo jumps.

  He gathers his bucket and his mop and goes away, quickly. He does not finish the floor.

  I ask Sandy to stay after Doctor Beck goes.

  I say, “Tell me about Shay. Why don’t I see Shay anymore? We eat at different times. She does not come to the classroom. I miss her. How can we live in the same house and not see the other? Sometimes I hear her. I hear her sound. But I don’t ever see her.”

  Sandy says, “Doctor Beck does not work with Shay anymore. She gave Shay to Doctor Troy.”

  I say, “How can she give Shay to anyone? Only Shay can give herself.”

  Sandy says, “You are right. Shay seems to understand that too. She is going deeper and deeper inside herself, Mila. She is locking herself away. We can hardly reach her anymore.”

  Shay is trapped the way I am trapped in this net of humans.

  But I cannot go the way of Shay. There is too much to see and hear and feel and taste on the outside to live only on the inside.

  Tomorrow we go to the tower with the television people so they can take more pictures of me. I know now. The television is not another world. It is only moving pictures. People are curious. They are curious to see many things. They are curious to see a dolphin girl. I understand curious. Dolphins are curious. When a boat comes, making its loud sound in the sea, dolphins come. The dolphin cousins want to see the humans, want to play, to swim with the boats.

  Sandy says, “The more people know of you, the less fear they will have.”

  But what do people know of me? Only pictures on the television. Only words. I am a thing to look at, to play with. Not a thing to touch and care for.

  Justin comes to see me. He makes me happy. When I am with him, it is like being with a dolphin cousin or a dolphin brother. I like him very much. He makes his hair go back with his hand, like Doctor Beck, and watches me. He makes a soft sound between his lips. His teeth are very white. He is long in arms and legs and is moving all the time and many times, day and night, I think about swimming with him. His ears are small and pretty like the ears of Doctor Beck. I like his ears. Inside his clothes are strong bones. If Justin Beck was dolphin, I think he will be my mate. But he is not dolphin. And I am not human. Not human enough.

  I ask if Justin will bring me to the Hump. The Hump is a place outside where you put your ear to a little hill of grass and listen to the sea.

  Justin says to Doctor Beck, “I won’t let her run away.”

  The world is busy outside. Across the noisy road the wind makes the river into a thousand ripples. New leaves, so green, are on the trees. The light grows stronger.

  Justin sits with me on the grass, but not so close. Justin does not like to be so close. Not to me, not to Doctor Beck. In that way he is so different from the dolphin.

  Justin asks, “What was it like, Mila? Living in the sea.” His voice is soft and rumbly, like the deep earth moving.

  I say, “I can give a long answer. It is like a many hundred things. I can ask you what it is like living on the land. You can talk and talk all day. You can talk many days about all the little things there are and not say it all. Do you understand?”

  Justin says, “Yes.”

  I say, “Some days rain comes, some days wind comes. Some days there is no drink. Some days no food. But always the dolphins are together.”

  Justin says, “All those years. How did you do it?”

  I watch a boy and a girl walking, hands touching, shoulders touching, so good, so close. I look at Justin with the little ears, with the white teeth. Beautiful human boy. I say, “I did what the dolphins did. I went where the dolphins went. It was not hard. I did not know another thing to do.”

  Justin runs his hand over the grass. “You must hate this. Being inside all the time. My mother telling you what to do. She thinks you can teach her to talk with dolphins. That’s all I ever hear about these days.”

  I feel many signals from Justin Beck. I sense something, but I do not understand it. He has a need to be close, but it is not me he wants.

  I look and look at his hand moving in the grass.

  Justin says, “Do you ever get tired of all the attention?”

  I say, “I like to play, and to talk, and to all the time do things with my hands and go places and see what I have not seen and hear what I have not heard. Sometimes people are so good to me, people I do not know. They give me things when they see me. They send me things.”

  Justin says, “I don’t know how you do it. I can’t imagine what it would be like to live on land with your family one day and then be part of a dolphin pod the next. And then all of this. Do you remember any of the past, the plane crash or your mother …?”

  My heart goes very loud inside me. I cannot make words.

  Red comes to the face of Justin. “Hey, Mila, I’m sorry. Why would you want to remember that? I hate thinking about my family splitting, and that wasn’t anywhere near as bad as what happened to you.”

  I am on this beach of grass with no ocean, with no quiet, with no clean air to breathe. The wind is cool. My ears hurt. The song of the ocean roars inside the Hump. Justin’s questions stir up feelings I don’t understand.

  I ask, “Justin, where is the
ocean I am hearing? Where is it? Is it under the grass?”

  Justin says, “It’s really just the cars driving past us on Storrow Drive, the sound of their wheels inside the Hump. It’s a pretty crummy excuse for the sea.”

  Listening, I imagine the real sea. A gull cries overhead.

  Justin says, “Mila, are you okay?”

  I say, “Justin, I want to go back where the warm food hides in the tide pools. I want to go back to the sea, where I do not feel the crushing of my heart by the ideas in my head.”

  I am afraid what Justin will think, that he will be angry with me. Yet he is not angry. He listens.

  “But if I do go back, Justin, I am the dolphin girl, the girl you laugh at.”

  Justin says, “I am not laughing, Mila. I wish I could go back sometimes too.”

  “Justin, I think about tomorrow and tomorrow always locked in my room, or the classroom, wearing clothes, eating dead food. I want to go back. To my dolphin family, to my dolphin home.” I wrap my arms around myself. I shut my eyes and let the sounds come inside me.

  Justin sits at my side. He does not tell me what to do like Sandy or Doctor Beck. He does not treat me the way the doctors treat me. He does not look another place when I say a thing he does not like. He listens. He treats me the way we treat the new dolphin who comes to swim with us.

  Justin says, “My mother won’t let you go.”

  I say, “What if she keeps me locked here forever? Always to play the little games, always looking for dolphin talk? What if I do all she asks and I am still not good enough?”

  Justin says, “You’re already good enough. You can do so much more than anyone ever thought. But they don’t know when to stop. Especially not my mother.”

  He looks out over the Charles River. “My mother likes to be in control. It’s hard for her when she’s not in control. She can’t control me. She can control you. That’s why you’re her little darling right now. Why you’re her pet. But you don’t have to let her do all this to you, Mila. You don’t have to do everything she says. You don’t have to make her happy. You couldn’t. Believe me. I know from experience. Nothing can make her happy.”

  I feel anger in him. A small eye of anger. But it is mostly liking I sense in Justin. I turn to Justin. I am listening to the sound of his heart. I am listening to the signals he sends. I see the white teeth, the beautiful ears. With this human I am most happy. With this human I am most sad.

  I ask Doctor Beck not to lock my room anymore. “I will not run away,” I tell her. “I need to come and to go, like the rest of you. Do you understand?”

  Doctor Beck stares at me. For a moment she sees me, not as a subject for her research, she really sees me. And then the open eyes shut again. But maybe not all the way.

  “And the classroom too,” I say. “And the front door. No more locked doors, Doctor Beck.”

  She explains to me about her money from the government. How the government has rules she must follow. How her job is to protect me. To keep me safe.

  “Mila, it has to be this way.”

  She reminds me about the time I swam in the night river and how sick that made me. “You’ve never fully recovered from that. Your health is still fragile.” She talks about gentle Mr. Aradondo, who refuses to clean the floor outside my room. “What would he say?”

  “Doctor Beck, one time there was a dolphin who made life dangerous for the others. That dolphin was set apart to live alone. This is a very sad way for a dolphin. Dolphins love to be with other dolphins. Please do not set me apart anymore. I am not dangerous. I will teach you what I can, I will learn from you what I can, but you must unlock the doors. I will not play, I will not write in this journal, I will not eat, until you unlock the doors.”

  “Mila, be reasonable. You’ve been losing weight ever since you came to us. You can’t stop eating.”

  I am not listening.

  “Mila.”

  I am not listening.

  “Mila!”

  I AM NOT …

  This morning, after nine days, I eat again, I speak again, I write in my journal again. This morning I leave my bed and sit in the chair by the open window. This morning Doctor Beck said, “Yes. I will unlock the door.”

  I ask to take the needle out of my arm, and Sandy brings me a little food from the kitchen.

  Doctor Beck says, “Mila, I’m sorry it took so long. I put your case forward every day. Even now, they only gave permission to unlock your bedroom door. The door to the outside must still be locked. That was the best I could do. But you can go out anytime you like. You need only ask. Only remember. If anything happens to you, Mila, the government will never forgive me.”

  Justin says, “Way to go, Mila.”

  I have trouble remembering all the days when I did not eat. I remember like a dream. Shay came. And Justin. Sandy played the videos of all my television stories and progress reports. I saw the wild girl with the curtain of salt-crust hair and the frightened eyes. I saw the eager girl with her hair cut, wearing clothes, struggling with words and cards and computers. I saw the girl who sat at a desk, drew pictures, played three notes on the recorder. The girl who looked almost human, acted almost human.

  Mr. Aradondo is not afraid of me anymore. He looked through the window in my door each night. And last night he came inside my room, standing opposite Doctor Beck. He came all the way into my room and stared down at me where they had me tied to the bed so I wouldn’t rip out the feeding tube. He stared at me a long time. In another language he spoke. Doctor Beck helped me to write his words on the computer. “Tienes una fiebra alta. Her fever is so high. Her cheeks are two flames,” he said.

  Doctor Beck nodded, checking the feeding tube.

  Mr. Aradondo said, “Mila, Doctor Beck needs you to eat. She needs you to take your medicine, child. ¿Me entiendes? Do you understand?”

  His words, his voice made me think of another time, another place. I remembered an old man who carried me on his shoulders and told me stories of Africa. A good man, who smelled like the earth.

  “Abuelo,” I whispered.

  Mr. Aradondo’s hand shook as he touched the top of my head. He had no more fear. Only sadness, great sadness, as he stared down at me.

  Doctor Beck’s mouth opened. “What did you say, Mila?”

  I looked at the old man with his lined face and his kind eyes.

  “Abuelo,” I said.

  Grandfather.

  I am very weak, sitting in this chair, too weak to leave the room that is no longer locked. I can change my computer from Spanish to English. English to Spanish. I call up the picture of grandfather and remember my own abuelo.

  Doctor Beck, I think she begins to understand. My smile is my own, it is something I give freely, because I want to give it. I am someone, the girl they call Mila, behind the smile. I think they begin to see. I think they begin to see me.

  Several of the doctors on the team have gone away. The two-way mirror is closed now behind curtains.

  But Doctor Beck is still so determined to learn dolphin talk. It is all she asks about now. I will try to teach her what I know. But it cannot be done with human language. I am thinking maybe, maybe it can be done with music.

  Mr. Aradondo came to visit again today. He brought me a little cake.

  I do not like the taste of sweets, but I know if someone gives a gift, it makes them sad if you do not want it. I remember so long ago when Sandy brought me the dead fish. I took the cake Mr. Aradondo made himself and I ate it, sharing it with the others. Mr. Aradondo is so quiet. I reach up and touch the blue marks on his arm. They make a picture of an anchor in the sea.

  “Tattoo,” Mr. Aradondo says. His teeth are not white like the teeth of Justin, but his smile is good. There is a piece of silver inside his mouth. Like the sun catching a lip of water. He does not pull away when I touch the tattoo.

  “Are you born with this?” I ask.

  Mr. Aradondo laughs. It is a laugh of yellow teeth. I see gray hairs inside his nose. “I ha
d this done to me,” he says.

  I trace the outline with my fingers, shut my eyes, and listen. Mr. Aradondo’s mind is as big as the ocean, as full of stories as the ocean is full of fish. I like the feel of Mr. Aradondo’s mind. It is not so tight as Doctor Beck, it is mostly open and full of light. I smile at him. He smiles back.

  I am different from other humans. But they are different from one another. I sense their differences, the human who is Sandy, the human who is Doctor Beck, the human who is Mr. Aradondo. It is like the dolphins. The dolphins are different from one another. But the dolphins swim together, play together, live together. Most important to dolphins is to be together. I look at Justin. I have so much to learn about humans.

  Human anger, human fear, these things get in the way for humans to feel good.

  Anger is a sad thing to have. It makes the human alone. I look at Justin. I think about the clean animal smell of him. When I think of Justin, I think maybe it is not so important to return to my dolphin family, that I can stay with humans always. But Justin cannot be my mate. He is not wanting a dolphin girl. No human is wanting a dolphin girl.

  Doctor Peach brings me music. He needs to show me only once. He plays for me. Then I play. My room is filled with sound. Doctor Peach brings musicians too with other instruments. I listen. I play my recorder with them. I no longer need to read the music like letters and words and sentences on a page. I speak it, I put the notes together into patterns.

  Doctor Beck says my room is not a good place to make music. She asks people to come and make a quiet room in the house for me to play. The sound of my music upsets Shay. It upsets everyone who sleeps here. I don’t want to upset Shay. But I am so full of music.

  Justin takes me away from the classwork and the music and the time with the doctors. He plays games with me like basketball and soccer. We play in the walled yard behind our house and run through the bright sunlight all the way to Case Gymnasium, where the swimming pool is, and he makes me laugh and jump and run and stretch and kick and fly across the floor, chasing balls, chasing him. It is very good. But he does not change. He does not want to be touched. It is too hard to play with him the way the dolphins play, so full of joy, so full of movement, without the touching.