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Show he kept company with a nuclear reactor, the silver of his dolphins gaining him admittance into the classified heart of the submarine. For months at a time, split atoms and bored men would share space with the fish on the bottom of the China Sea. An order was established for reeling in the fish. I would be third, after Scott and Bryan, and my parents would follow us. I brought my head up long enough to hear my place in line. The tuna began striking around noon. Yellow-finned Ahi. Scott and Bryan ran to their stations, hefting the giant rods with help from the captain and positioning them in the silver cups which sit between their legs in the fighting chairs. It's all in the back, my father yelled. Use your back. Wear out the fish. Remember it's not just strength. Never strength. Stamina. They shrieked in laughter. It was fun. Bracing themselves against the side of the boat, straining and laughing, they reeled in the line, sun glinting off their blonde heads, flashing and brilliant. Great. Great. You're doing great. I stood back, under the awning and out of the sun. After a long struggle, my brothers landed their fish almost simultaneously. Gray, bullet-shaped twenty pound Ahi hit the boat deck with a thunk. The fish thrashed and twisted, sides heaving with the effort. Their colors drained immediately, returning with the salt water back into the sea. Where was the yellow of the fin, I wondered. What was it like to drown in the air? Into the ice chest with the sandwiches they went. Birds moved in closer, threatening. Hours passed. We landed close to forty tuna, both yellow fin and Aku, their dark- 172 |