I sit on an old plastic chair: my red bikini, red shorts, and dark blue polo stand out against the tired beige cinder block behind me. Face sunburnt, hair stiff from salt, my eyes scan the water.
A young girl runs in a new-excited-puppy way up to 20th St. Lifeguard tower. She wears an orange bikini. She hops from foot to foot and she squints up trying to see me through the midday sun.
“Excuse me? Excuse me.”
I hear her small squeaky voice fifteen feet below me. I stand up from my chair and peer over the metal railing to the sand beneath. She stares up and I can see her chest moving rapidly.
“I was building breath a sand castle breath and I looked over and breath a seal breath was breath just lying there.” She points with her small finger five blocks south to a little brown lump on the sand.
“I breath think it might breath be sick.” She looks at me and starts to cry, “Please help it.”
“It’s gonna be okay, don’t worry.” I assure her, not certain I speak the truth.
I run inside the tower, grab a pair of binoculars and a portable radio. I slide down the pole onto the sand next to the little girl. She cries harder.
“I bet it’s just tired, probably swam a lot and now is just trying to get some sleep.” I tell her and she glances up at me with her red puffy eyes.
“Really?”
“Yeah, totally. After a day at the beach do you ever need a nap?”
She nods her head.
“See, the seal is just like you, just tired.”
She once again nods her head with a bit more enthusiasm.
I look through the binoculars at the brown lump. Magnified, I see it motionless as small waves slap its brown fur covered back. I watch for a few more seconds, no movement. I press the large button on the radio.
“Station 3 from 20, we have a possible 905 D at 5. Will report on the 20 when I 10-97.” (Headquarters this 20th street, there may be a dead animal at 25th street. I will let you know how it looks when I get there.) Good thing I memorized my codes, 905D sounds a lot better than dead animal.
The little girl has inched towards me and is now tugging on my shirt.
“Can you come and look.”
“Yes, of course.”
I start walking and she comes right next to me, grabs my free hand, and tries to wrap her tiny hand around mine.
* * *
I glance up from the book in my right hand – the jousts, kings, and jesters in yet another epic Magic Tree House saga fail to hold my attention. I need it to get my 1st grade Readthon award. I search the water for my kayaking brothers. I look for the bright green kayak with the bold letters KAINALU painted across the side. I find it a few blocks south riding a wave. My oldest brother steers from the back and my other brother leans forward in the front. I watch them ride the wave and then capsize. Bored, I turn my gaze north; seagulls float over waves, a man attempts to stand up on his Wavestorm, and an old woman breast strokes with her head up trying ever so hard to not get her hair wet. SPLASH.
What is that? Too small to be a buoy. A piece of trash? No. A seal? Seals don’t move like that. Not a dolphin, not a shark – the fin doesn’t match the toy in my bath tub. Huh? A whale? I have never seen one so close. I’ll ask Mom, she’ll know, she always knows.
“Mom, what’s that?” I point with my finger.
“What’s what?” She looks puzzled trying to follow the line from the edge of my finger into the water.
“Look, there.” Once again, I point and I move my face right next to hers. I extend my arm a little more.
“Ohh, It’s probably a seal.” She goes back to reading
“No, It’s a whale!” I squint my eyes, trying to get a clearer look.
“A whale would not be on the inside and it’s May. All the whales have gone by now. Most likely a seal” She keeps reading.
“I’m just gonna go look.”
I jog to the spot and try to stand on my tippy toes. Too many waves. Too short. I run up the beach through the high sand that burns my feet. I push myself up onto the cement sea wall. Now I can see the black object bobbing. It goes down for a few seconds then comes back up. Its big eye stares at me then submerges. I hop off the wall and head back down the beach to my Mom.
“Mommy, Mommy!” I yell as I get close.
She pulls down her glasses and gives me that why-are-you-so-loud eyebrow.
“Mom, it’s a baby whale.”
“Are you sure it is not a seal?” She folds the page of her book.
“Mom, I am positive it is a whale.”
“Sometimes seals can look bigger in the water.” She puts the book onto the sand beside her chair.
“No Mommy. Listen. It looked at me. It’s a baby whale. Like the ones in Hawaii.”
My Mom smiles.
“Well that’s awesome. I told you it’s your Aumakua.”
“Come on, come on, come and see..” I grab her hand and drag her to the spot.
My Mom using the there’s-a–telemarketer-on-the-phone voice. “I think it’s playing.”
All of a sudden, five, straight-pointy fins surround the whale. They swim around in a circle growing tighter with each rotation. I can’t see the whale.
“The sharks are eating it. Mommy! It’s dying!”
“It’s okay, those are just dolphins. They are just playing with it.”
“No they are sharks trying to eat it. Mommy we have to save it.” I begin to cry.
“It is not hurt, don’t worry, don’t you remember the book we read? Dolphins take care of whales in the ocean.”
I grab her hand tighter. We stand at the waterline watching the big, black head bob up and down and the fins circle it and the waves roll past it and the tears flow down my face.
My Mom’s hand squeezes mine harder, “What if we call SeaWorld so they can check on the whale.”
I let go of my Mom’s hand.
“No Mom, no Mom. It can’t spend its life in a bathtub. No Mommy please. No.”
“But maybe they can just help the whale get back out past the waves.” She does not sound as sure as she looks.
My hands ball into fists at my sides and my knees lock. “No Mommy. They are gonna take it. No please no.”
“Okay. I won’t.”
“They will just hurt it. I hate SeaWorld. Please no.”
“I said I would not.”
I squat down with my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands.
“How about if I call the lifeguards.” My Mom says.
I look up at her, nod my head in agreement, and use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my face.
She turns her back to me “Hi, no this is not an emergency. There is a whale around 18th street. It is stuck on the inside. My 6 year old is concerned that there are sharks circling it.” She listens then replies, “They might be, it could be hurt yes. Could you please come?”
She turns back towards me, “They are coming to help it.”
I stand up and look at her.
“Come here, it is going to be okay.”
I walk towards her and she wraps her arms around me. I look down the beach in-between her arm and her side and I see a red truck coming towards us.
“Mom, they’re coming.”
It takes a few minutes until we can make out the white writing on the side of the truck. My mom waves at it and it stops.
A tall man wearing red board shorts and a blue polo steps out of the truck. He has a portable radio attached to his waistband and sunglasses propped on top of his head.
“Hi my name is Mark and I am a Del Mar Lifeguard.” He says while towering over my mom and me.
“Hi Mark, the whale is right there.” My Mom points and he follows the line from her finger out to the whale.
“Ohh yeah. Looks like a baby Gray.”
“The whale is going to be alright. Right?” More of a statement than a question from my mother.
“Yeah of course, we see this all the time. The baby whales like to come into the inshore holes and rub their backs.” He lowers himself to his knees and looks me in the eye, “We see this all the time, I have a ton of photos hanging up in the tower if you would like me to show you.”
* * *
She holds my hand all the way there. As we approach, I notice a group has congregated around the seal. They clear a path for me. The little girl lets go of my hand. She wanders over to a woman on the inside of the circle and the woman sweeps the little girl into her arms.
The woman says to me, “Is the seal going to be okay? My daughter is quite worried.”
I assure her, “Sometimes the young seals just like to lie on the sand to warm-up because the water can get kinda cold after a while.”
“The seal is going to be alright though. Right?” She looks at me and raises her eyebrows.
“Yes, of course. We see this same thing all the time.”
She looks at the little girl in her arms, “See I told you it would be okay. Now we can go home” She looks back at me and mouths “Thank you.”
I return to my tower rinse of my feet in the bucket and climb the ladder. I turn on the radio.
“Station 3, from 20. Confirmed 905D at 5. 912 to contact public works.”
The radio cracks, “10-4”
I hang up the radio and look around the tower. I look at the rusty railing, the box of bandages that has tipped over, and the walls. I look at the four blank walls of the tower. No pictures.
Salt; Water 
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