"I don't think I can eat an entire one," he said and drew his knife across one of the strips. He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped. It drew up tight on the heavy cord and he looked at it in disgust.
"What kind of a hand is that," he said. "Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good."
Come on, he thought and looked down into the dark water at the slant of the line. Eat it now and it will strengthen the hand. It is not the hand's fault and you have been many hours with the fish. But you can stay with him forever. Eat the bonito now.
He picked up a piece and put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly. It was not unpleasant.
Chew it well, he thought, and get all the juices. It would not be bad to eat with a little lime or with lemon or with salt.
"How do you feel, hand?" he asked the cramped hand that was almost as stiff as rigor mortis. "I'll eat some more for you."
He ate the other part of the piece that he had cut in two. He chewed it carefully and then spat out the skin.
"How does it go, hand? Or is it too early to know?"
He took another full piece and chewed it.
"It is a strong full-blooded fish," he thought. "I was lucky to get him instead of dolphin. Dolphin is too sweet. This is hardly sweet at all and all the strength is still in it."
There is no sense in being anything but practical though, he thought. I wish I had some salt. And I do not know whether the sun will rot or dry what is left, so I had better eat it all although I am not hungry. The fish is calm and steady. I will eat it all and then I will be ready.
"Be patient, hand," he said. "I do this for you."
Sometimes, I give myself pep talks, too. Especially when I'm facing something difficult.
At the moment, it is almost 11 p.m. I am doing what I have been doing for the last couple weeks--watching the Beijing Winter Olympics. Last night, I watched the train wreck that was the finals of women's figure skating. In particular, the performance of 15-year-old Kamila Valieva.
Here is what I noticed: Valieva looked traumatized even before she began skating. After days of scandal, she had to talk herself into getting on the ice. And then, when she fell, she had to talk herself into getting up and continuing. She did this over and over. By the time it was over, this little girl looked tiny and broken.
Kamila Valieva shouldn't have skated last night. Not just because she tested positive for banned substances. She shouldn't have skated because she was a teenage girl with no emotional support system. The entire world had been watching her every move almost since the start of the Olympics. Talking about her. Criticizing her.
Facing all of that, what teenager wouldn't have fallen apart? When I was 15, I was sitting alone in my bedroom, scribbling in my journal, dreaming of doing something great with my life. I didn't know who I was. And I certainly wouldn't have held up if the entire world was reading and tearing my writing apart.
All Saint Marty wanted to do yesterday was give that little girl a hug and tell her everything is going to be alright.
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