Wherever You Are [COMPLETED]

IX: Basking Sharks

IX: Basking Sharks

~Abigail~

My eyes fluttered open and I stretched my arms in front of my in honor of a good night’s sleep. I haven’t slept that well in a long time. I yawned once more as I rolled around in bed, attempting to find a comfortable position. When no position was found, I took it as a sign that I should get up. I got up and walked to the bathroom. Not feeling the need to knock, I opened the door and walked in.

“Abby?!” Dylan shrieked. He sounded like a girl. I resisted the urge to giggle as I took in his appearance. His chiseled chest stared at me, as if inviting me to eye rape them. I forced my eyes to drift back up to his face. On closer inspection, I realized that he looked more tired than I was. His eyes were swollen, puffy, and bloodshot.

“Did you cry last night?” I asked him. He sighed and looked down without answering me. “You did, didn’t you?” He started to walk away from me and out of the bathroom. When his warm skin brushed against my arm, I shivered. “Why?”

He simply said, “I’m sorry, Abby,” and left the bathroom. Memories of last night came back to me. I was furious last night when the memories came flooding back into my brain. What I found weird was that I wasn’t mad anymore. I actually think I forgave him. Actually no, I think I forgave him since he arrived in Philadelphia.

“Hey Abby?” he asked, leaning against my door frame.

“Yeah?”

“Do you … want to go somewhere with me?” As if regretting what he said, he quickly added, “If you want to, I mean. I’m not forcing you or anything-”

“I’d love to,” I interrupted him. He shut up from his rambling and nodded.

“Great,” he said, with a bitter smile. “Wear something comfy.”

We went to an aquarium in Atlantic City. It was one of those small ones that people don’t go to anymore because a bigger one opened somewhere else. The interior was rustic but homey at the same time. It had that nautical themed wallpaper with boat parts hung around the lobby as decoration. Dylan paid for our tickets and took me inside. I followed him silently, gazing at the glass walls in the process. We arrived in front of a shark tank. Inside, about two or three sharks roamed viciously. We sat down on a bench in front of the tank and gazed at the sharks silently. The sharks paid no attention to us and continued roaming.

After about  10 minutes, Dylan tapped me on the shoulder.

“See that one?” he asked, pointing to one particular shark. I nodded. “That’s a basking shark.” I nodded again, not understanding why he felt the need to rub in his knowledge of sharks. “It doesn’t eat meat,” he added.

“But sharks are carnivorous,” I stated.

“Yes, but not this one,” he corrected. “This one survives by eating phytoplankton and algae in the sea. It doesn’t eat meat. See?”

He directs my attention back to the tank. The shark opened its mouth wide and moved slowly, devouring the algae and phytoplankton in its path. I stifled my giggles. The shark looked really funny. I tried to remain serious and wait for him to say something else.

“But you know what’s sad?” I shook my head at his rhetorical question. “It still looks like a shark. It looks like a great white shark. And because of that, fish fear him and run away from him. Because of his appearance, he’s forced to hang out with the other sharks: the only people who don’t fear him.”

I tried to understand what he was saying. Did he come here to share his shark knowledge?

“I like him. ‘Cause he’s like me,” Dylan stated solemnly. “I look like a jock. I play football like a jock. But I don’t like to act like one. I’m just a regular person, Abby,” he pleaded and I nodded slowly. “People are afraid of me because I’m big, because I’m on the football team. They think I’m going to beat them up like the rest of them. I tried talking to other people, Abby, but they run. They run away. Far away. Like I’m the plague or something.” He sighed before continuing. “Eventually, I just gave up trying to make friends. I started being friends with other jocks. Hooking up with cheerleaders. All that stereotypical stuff. And I hate it.” I reached down to his hand only to find that it was balled into a fist. I opted for his arm instead and rubbed it soothingly.