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Circle of Support

The Space Inside

By Samia AfraPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
1

“Well, I wanted to do the right thing, and all, only a large school of Pacific bluefin tuna swam by, and I completely lost my shit. I took out four at once. I haven’t binged like that in … months.” Wally hunches, his fin on his forehead.

“Go on, Wally, continue,” Angela encourages.

“I was – being so good to myself – staying on track, doing my self-care,” Wally confides. “I went for my nightly 10 pm swim in my chilly Pacific neighborhood and then took a breather. While I rested near a massive kelp bed and swayed under the blurry moonlight, I sensed them – and I just caved.”

“It’s all good, Wally. You’re only human, I mean, shark-like. You’re a 39-year-old Great White; it’s your nature.” Juno pacifies.

“Yeah, Juno, but I’m tryin’ to do better. I mean, why should I keep returning every week if I can’t control my urges.” Wally’s eyes grow dewy.

Angela redirects, “Juno, what keeps you comin’ back?”

“Well, I’m a 27-year-old Great Hammerhead with 600-700 teeth and have a gorgeous coat with plenty of shine ‘cause of my history of Omega 3s. But, every night, I beat myself up … [He slumps, slouching over his tail.] I need to … confess, I passed on the stingray but ended up eating a sea turtle yesterday and went off the program. It’s just that it tasted so good, almost like chocolate, and caramelly and fulla nuuuu ...,” Juno stills.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels

“What … Juno? What are you trying to say?” He disconnects.

She begins the Sea Life Prayer. Everyone follows together, “And the wisdom to know ….”

They return after a ten-minute break, scarfing all the donuts and passing on the weak coffee.

“Hi, my name is Harvey. It’s my first time here.” A new attendant proclaims.

“Hello, Harvey!” Everyone bathes him in a warm glow of welcome.

“Now, Harvey, tell us your story,” Angela interjects.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels

“I’m a Hammerhead, and I’ve been doing fish for close to 18 years now. I’m trying to quit. Be as it might, it’s a real drag!”

“Why do you want to quit … what’s your motivation?” Angela pries.

“Well, I’m a damn hypocrite and all.” He continues.

“How so?” Juno queries.

“Sharks act as a natural barometer for scientists to inform them of the health of our marine ecosystems. We are known to scavenge the waters for sick fish and prey on weaker fish to keep the natural balance right. We are pivotal in maintaining the diversity of fish populations and keeping sea life in check. Currently, humans are our fiercest predators at large.

Right now, our marine ecosystems are suffering. Global bycatch is a result of overfishing in several fisheries worldwide. Bycatch is the unnecessary, wasteful death of sea life – injured fish, dolphins, sharks, turtles, and more caught in trawling nets, left to sit out, most are rejected before coming to shore. With the different fisheries intending to collect only a specific fish species, bycatch captures 50k sea turtles (3) and an estimated 100M sharks every year (1). It’s wreaking havoc in our oceans – estimating up to 40 percent of the world’s catch totaling 63B pounds of sea life per year (2).” At this rate, our oceans will be sea life-free by 2048. The growing daily consumption demands are the driving force behind this travesty. I need to do something about it!” Harvey laments.

“Really?” Wally listens closer.

“Yea, I can’t preach to all the seafood lovers out there to stop eating if I’m doing it too. So that’s why I’m here, to turn a corner – to go vegan; it’s 2021, after all. I just want to return my home – the ocean – to its beauty and splendor, the way it once was. I must do my part. Set an example for others since Great Whites and Hammerheads are on the endangered list.” Harvey appears spent.

Photo by Trish H-C on Unsplash

“Damn, Harvey! We’re here for you, man!” Juno high-fins him from afar.

***

A young man quietly enters room #102 entitled “Shark Support Group for Recovering Fish-Eaters Anonymous.” [The Anonymous was scratched out months ago on the sign.] His dog’s ball rolled into their room from across the hall.

“Ummmmmm, hello,” he voices in a hushed tone. The sharks grow uneasy, looking at one another with their blurry vision, their noses sensing a disruption in the room’s energy.

“Ummm, my dog’s ball rolled in here. Well, not my dog’s – my emotional support animal’s – ball rolled in here,” the man squeaks. “I’m gonna pass by you large three and grab it.” Meek, cowering downwards, places his lonely arm between the two Hammerheads and grabs the ball.

The Hammerheads growl with uneasiness. The man’s smell makes their hormones race. They suddenly want to spar but try to contain themselves. Their pent-up aggression hovers like an over-filled balloon ready to poppppppppppppppp.

“Thanks again, sssssorry to interrupt,” he disappears across the hall.

The room’s vibe is now off; the sharks continue to give each other the stink-eye.

Excuse meeeeeee [commotion on the verge of eruption], gentlesharks, please contain yourself – PLEASE!” Angela commands.

Photo by Hiro K on Unsplash

***

[Brandon returns.]

“Um, sorry, I had to grab this,” Brandon’s eyes look down while he raises the ball.

“Now, Brandon, this group is not for meek little pocket-sized mice!” Sgt. Walters hollers, “Gimme twenty jumping jacks! Scream the numbers after every one of them. If I don’t hear you from across the room, you will start again. Understand?”

“Yeahhhhhhhesssss, sirrrrrr!” Brandon accepts the challenge.

“ONEEEEEEEEE, TWOOOOOOOOO, THREEEEEEEEEEE …” He begins.

“What? – louder, I mean L-o-u-d-e-r! I want to hear you from the other side of the parking lot outside the building, across the lawn!” Sgt chastises.

Sgt. Walters resumes his observation.

“Better, yes. Now all of you, pipsqueaks, do it too from the top, everyone together.”

“Excellent, everyone. Great work, finish with deep breaths,” Sgt. praises.

“Now, Adam, take this bat and tell me why you’re here. I want you to bat this large pile of pillows and scream your response. Go there and reach that space inside you. Access your inner alpha. Ready?” Sgt. Walters pins Adam with an overwhelming sense of duty.

“OK,” he hovers over the mountain of cushions. The others watch him from afar.

IIIIIIIIII [hit]

wannnnnnnt [punch]

toooooooo [punch]

assssskkkkkkk [pillows now everywhere]

myyyyyyyy [slam]

hottttttttt [hit]

neiiiiiiiiighboooooooor [slam]

oooooouuut [punch]

buttttttttttttt [slams again, pillows flying]

shhhhhheeeeee [hit, bat reverbing]

doooooeeeessssnnnn’ttttt [growing angrier, punching every pillow]

eeeeeevvvvvvvvveeeeennn [slam, slam, screaming]

knowwwwwwww [hit, pillows flying]

myyyyyyyyyyy [feathers escaping while he rages]

godddddddddd-damn [irate, flying off the handle]

nammmmmmmeeeeee [more punches, his screaming now primal]

orrrrr whooooo [pillows blown to hell]

IIIIII eveeeeennnn [forehead beaming with sweat]

ammmmmmmm [feathers are covering his shirt, bat broken].”

Everyone remains spellbound.

Photo by Matheo JBT on Unsplash

“Now, Adam, that was stand-up. Great work; our class is over. Gentlemen, see you next week,” Sgt. praises.

They stumble out of the room. Everyone bids goodbye. Brandon bends to grab his dog’s ball below Room 103’s sign, “Access Your Inner-Alpha Assertiveness Support Group.”

***

[The following Thursday]

Wally and Harvey head down the hallway towards room 102.

“Due to unseen weather conditions, meeting rooms 102 and 103 are closed due to a large leak from last Saturday’s storm. These groups will convene in the auditorium, located across from the church library.” A large sign informs.

They grumble while locating the auditorium. Doors wide open, the participants greet them with growing looks of uneasiness. The sharks and betas sit in a large circle of chairs, hesitant to participate, each looking suspect at one another.

“Gentlesharks and gentlemen, we will be attempting something experimental today. Everyone, please take a seat.” Angela instructs. “I am Angela, room #102’s coordinator.”

“Brandon, is it? I need you to stand here – in the center – here.” She moves him while placing her hands on his shoulders.

“I am Sgt. Walters – Hello, I oversee room #103. Now, who arrrrrrrrrrre Wally and Harvey? And Juno?” Sgt. Walters probes his paperwork.

“That’s us.” Juno looks to his left, and his right then confirms.

“Wally, Harvey, and Juno, I want you to circle Brandon. Go-‘round and ‘round ‘n’ get uncomfortably close.” Sgt. gestures with his pointer finger.

The three sharks circle him while their temperatures rise and their hormones rage. They smell fear. In the center, Brandon grows weary and feels suffocated; finally, he fears for his life.

Photo by Glenda on Pexels

“Now, Brandon, how do you feel?” Angela digs.

“Vulnerable, scared.” His forehead beads, his pits sweat.

“Go on, sharks, closer and faster!” Angela provokes.

The sharks snarl, now competing for domination. Their salivary glands water from the carrot dangling in front of their snouts.

Brandon’s legs quake.

They nip at his clothes.

“Ohhhh, ohhh my …. GET Away .... LEAVe me ALoone!” Brandon panics.

Con-tin-YOUe, BranDon!, StaY with iT,” Sgt. Walter shrieks.

“IIIIIIIIII … neeed …. Youuuuuu ….. alllll …” they bump him drawing blood from his elbow.

Sgt. Walter observes Brandon’s facial expressions shift. “Get ANGRYYYYYYY, Dammit!”

“Getttttttt,” [He finds his voice, brows furrow.]

“Thhhheeee,” [His temperature escalates.]

“Fuccckkkkk,” [His cheeks grow ruddy.]

“Awayyyyyy,” [He uses his diaphragm.]

“Frommmm,” [Now he locates his inner beast.]

“Meee,” [His voice intensifies.]

“Youuuu,” [His growing anger skyrockets.]

“Worthlesssss,” [He yells.]

“Unkindddddd,” [His spits when he shouts.]

“Bulliiiiiessss.” [His anxiety and anger mounts.]

“IIIIIIII willlll,” [He begins to lose himself.]

“Take this battttt,” [Someone hands him a bat.]

“And commmmmeeee,” [He takes it in his hand.]

“Affffteerrrr allll,” [He uses it to grow space and traction in the circle.]

“Of yourrrr asses !!!!” [He now has the upper hand.]

The sharks’ fear escalates. “What, oh my gosh, no – don’t come at me!” Wally panics.

Photo by Public Domain Pictures on Pexels

“Stay away from me,” Harvey cowers, dashing outside the circle.

Don’t even think …” Juno challenges.

“Don’t think what? That I won’t come after you? Think again!” Brandon powers after Juno and scares him out of the room.

EEEEEEEXXXXXXXX – Cellllllllllllllll – Enttttttttttttt!!!” Sgt. Walter applauds, then Angela, the others follow suit.

Everyone returns to their chairs.

“Now today’s lesson learned is that bullies do not deserve your respect. Use your words first; they are your weapons of choice. If actions are necessary – only if the other participant starts becoming physical first – then protect yourself with self-defense. Violence is never the answer. Assert yourself in situations and life, am I clear?” Sgt. details.

***

They return from a ten-minute break: donuts untouched, coffee percolates.

“So, Juno, how did that feel being so close to Brandon?” Angela pokes.

“Well, he smells appetizing. I almost couldn’t contain myself.”

“It’s from the fragrant basil I’ve been growing in my garden. I’ve been creating my classic vegan tofu mock-Zarela pesto sandwiches with fresh heirlooms and arugula. My homegrown pesto prepared with walnuts and Bragg’s Nutritional Yeast always has my friends returning again and again. My vegan friends love it when I host potlucks.” Brandon asserts.

“What? You’re vegan, too? I’ve been informing my new friends at group about the benefits. We’re here to be more earth first, sea friendly, and set an example for others.” Harvey finds a beckon of light in Brandon.

Photo by fotografierende on Pexels

That night the energy shifts – everyone finds a new friend, an assertive voice, and an environmental cause to build a better future. They friend each other on social media and plan vegan get-togethers. At once, their attention fades, their voices quiet, and they hear salsa music streaming from room #104 across the hall. Six heads: three guys and three sharks – peek around the doorway.

With sexy dance shoes and matching skirts, twenty senoritas and sharkeritas are learning to salsa. Their room sign reads “Ladies Looking to Access Their Inner Sex Kitten Support Group.” The six smile and recognize their budding friendship soaring to new levels.

Footnotes:

• (1) Source https://ocean.si.edu/ocean-life/sharks-rays/sharks Oceans. Smithsonian Institution

• (2) Source https://oceana.org/sites/default/files/Bycatch_Report_FINAL.pdf, page 5

• (3) ibid, page 20

***Thanks for your reads, likes, shares, and tips. ***

Humor
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About the Creator

Samia Afra

I'm new to this, so go easy on me.

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