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I HEAR A SIREN; IT’S Pike coming to pick me up. I check my face one more time in the mirror, gazing at the gash on my head held together by two small stitches. It hurts, along with the rest of my body. I have scratches on my knees, bruises on my bottom, and I can still see tiny bits of dirt embedded deep in the scrapes on my palms.
I turn my palms away. I’m tempted to read them to see if they can give me any clue as to what happened to me since I have no idea what happened.
I also wish I could call Kumiko. She knows a little bit about what led up to my amnesia. Plus, I owe her for saving my life by calling the sheriff, from halfway across the planet, to come look for me.
As I’m looking at my stitches again in the mirror, I see one of Aunt Cora’s paintings in the reflection. She loved to paint. She painted the whole house, both inside and out, the same teal color of the sea when it’s reaching over the sand on a bright sunny day. The painting, hanging by a fish hook with fishing line, is of me as a chubby child with rose-colored cheeks wearing a tiny red tube top and a tiny red skirt with a big cheesy smile as I hold a fish in my palms; Catch of the Earth, she entitled it. I don’t know why she’d paint me playing with a blue-green fish, which has almond-shaped rather than round blue eyes that look almost human.
It makes me laugh. I never touched fish as a kid; I thought they were too slimy and she knew this. “Don’t be cruel to creatures of the sea,” she used to say, “even though they will be jealous of you. The sea will forever be jealous of the earth because it’s the earth that holds the sea.” Aunt Cora liked to speak in riddles. Sometimes, their meanings were clear as day, while at other times, I had no clue as to what she meant.
Pike sounds his siren again and I hustle out of Aunt Cora’s beach house in my cross-back, short, coral halter dress that scoops low in the front. Pike comes out of his car to greet me and hands me a bouquet of long-stemmed, white, tiny, but tightly packed flowers.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“I thought you might like them. Your Aunt liked them. I used to catch her picking them on the side of the road.”
“You know they’re weeds. Right, Pike?”
Pike tosses them down to the ground with the rest of the weeds growing in the dry, sandy soil of Aunt Cora’s front lawn. “Shit! If I had known that, I swear I would’ve stopped at the florist. I just thought maybe you were the type who preferred au natural.”
I laugh as Pike opens the door for me. “So, what the hell would your aunt pick them for?” he asks.
“Her potions and lotions and stuff,” I say as I get in the car. “People paid her a lot of money for that junk.”
Pike peeks down at me. “If she put it in her love potions then maybe I should pick it back up and give it to you.”
I laugh again. It’s cute; I never saw Sheriff Pike so charming and I can’t help but allow my eyes to wander over the small hints of skin allowed to show beyond his long-sleeved sheriff’s uniform as we head to the Pirate Fest.
I know he’s taking his time to get there because other officers keep calling him on the radio to ask him what’s taking so long. I like the attention, but if he tries any harder in pursuing me, I’m going to have to tell him I have no plans to stay in this town and I’m sure it’ll ruin the night for both of us.
When we get to the festival, it’s just as I remember. Main Street is flooded with kids in pirate costumes carrying plastic swords as parents chase, scream, and wonder why they allowed their youngsters to arm themselves with pointed weapons. Dads wear fake beards with fake parrots on their shoulders while moms are dressed like sluts. It’s the one night of the year where it’s okay for every mother to be sexy and let her bosom and bottom hang out.
It smells like a carnival and Pike buys me a pretzel and a beer. It’s sad he can’t drink with me, but I feel comfortable knowing I have a designated driver instead of being the driver for a change.
After Pike buys me a second beer, I question whether he’s trying to get me drunk so he can put some moves on me later, but I can tell he’s starting to regret asking me to come as his date. As we walk through the street, his eyes and mind are so busy trying to keep up with everything going on he can hardly finish a sentence through our conversations.
After a couple of hours, and my fourth beer, Pike leads me to a tattoo stand and asks me to wait so he can check on some kids reported as missing. I don’t mind he has to go; I like watching tattoos being made. I watched Kumiko get a dragon tattoo over her shoulder and down her arm like a sleeve. I didn’t have the heart to tell Kumiko Aunt Cora thought it was a bad thing to do because she believed Kumiko cursed herself by putting a dragon on her arm. Of course, I don’t believe any of that and I enjoy watching the level of detail that goes into a tattoo and the artist’s commitment to the art of also inflicting pain on another human being. I enjoy watching patrons flinch, especially those that cry.
This is the tattoo artist’s busiest night of the year. Half the town will wake up in the morning with a permanent symbol of regret and the later it gets into the night, the bigger the tattoo and regret will be.
I watch a woman tighten her face and squeeze her eyes shut as ink is stabbed a hundred times a minute into her soft flesh atop the upper portion of her breast. Her tattoo looks like the face of the man standing next to her. When I see him, I can’t help but feel remorse for her. He’s not bad looking, but he does have a Mohawk and the artist has decided to include the enormous fake clip-on hoop ring I assume is supposed to make the guy look like a pirate. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t look anything like a pirate and neither does the handsome guy sitting nearby.
My heart skips a beat as the guy sitting down looks familiar, but I don’t know anyone that looks that good. He smiles with amusement as he watches the woman laying on her back, having her breasts tortured, squeals. His smile is as wide as the ocean and the idea floods my mind—the two of us. Together. On the beach. In the sand.
The thought is peculiar and I finish my fifth beer then toss it into a trashcan as I try to maneuver myself between the crowd to get a better look at the guy.
He’s sitting in a wheelchair and I see a hand come up from behind him to tap him on the shoulder. As the woman is bending over to speak in his ear, his smile gets even bigger and he looks up to her, so she bends further to give him a quick peck on the cheek. She hands the handsome man a beer before she turns to watch the torture and she brushes her blonde hair away from her face. It’s Yanka.
I feel sick. Blue is fucking hot with the short haircut Yanka gave him and the clothes she dressed him in—snug jeans and a trendy fitted light blue cotton shirt. I look down at the coin dangling around my neck and feel like a dumb ass. I’m such a horrible person! I don’t know why—maybe because I’m drunk, but I want him. I want Blue.
I look back at them and this time he’s looking at me. My body shivers as a breeze blows through the street and the crackling of thunder resounds above. My head tilts up towards the sky as flashes of light ripple through the clouds and the entire crowd of festival attendees gasp as thunder rolls through our skulls, hands, and to the center of our bones.
I look back at Blue, but unlike everyone else, he’s not looking up—he’s still watching me. I see him nudge the wheels of his chair as the crowd begins to thin.
Suddenly, a hand wraps around my elbow and Pike starts to pull me. “Let’s go this way,” he says as rain pours like a heavy shower out of nowhere.
I hesitate, but then Yanka pushes on Blue’s chair handles so I follow Pike. People are screaming, holding their hands over their heads as they make their way towards any dry place they can find, which is nowhere.
Pike continues to yank on my arm and leads me to the old library at the center of Main Street; we walk into the century-old, thick, wooden doors. The book repository is well-lit and smells like mold. It’s also chilly inside so I smooth my forearms with my hands to wipe the rain away and I feel myself sway. I think I’m tipsy.
“Hi, Sheriff,” a redhead with ruby red glasses wearing a long black and white floral skirt and conservative yellow top, says to Pike. She seems to be in her early thirties, too young to be dressed in ol’ lady clothing. I wonder how I’ve never seen her before. “Hello, Shelley,” she says to me and I’m annoyed.
“How do you know who I am? I don’t know who you are?” I say, pointing in her face. I wouldn’t normally do something like that, but I’m feeling brave. Must be the booze.
“Someone may have had too many beers,” replies Pike as he puts my hand down for me.
“I’m Athena, the librarian and the City Council recently gave me the title of town historian. Sheriff Pike also employs me as well,” she says too proudly for someone who I know wasn’t born here and probably shouldn’t have been entrusted with so much. Not to mention, her chin goes up too high when she speaks, like she’s some kind of goddess among her pillars of books, but I know what she really is—a nerd.
I roll my eyes and Pike rubs the back of his head. I’m horny but he’s not gettin’ any tonight.
“Listen,” he says to Athena, “can I leave Shelley with you? I know you’re only supposed to be open as a designated shelter area for emergencies, but I need to get back out there to ensure some order.
Athena’s lips open and quiver, “Uh....” is all she says as her tongue stumbles back and forth between her teeth. She’s not remotely interested in being my babysitter until she catches a glimpse of my chest. “Where did you get that?”
“I’m guessing my mother,” I say as I look down at my tits, which look awesome in this dress. It’s funny to me she’d even ask, but Pike isn’t laughing when he corrects me.
“She’s talking about the coin, Shelley, so why don’t you stay here and you two can talk about it and I’ll be back in a little while.”
Athena nods, so Pike leaves and I feel awkward. Athena reaches to my chest and grabs the coin. She flips it around between her fingers as she removes her glasses to get a closer look. This woman does not understand boundaries! I tilt my head back when, suddenly, I’m on my ass.
It hurts, but the feeling of falling felt good for some odd reason and an image of the bay floods my mind. It reminds me of my childhood as well as something peculiarly unfinished. It felt good to fall until I landed on the ground.
“Are you okay?” Athena asks as she helps me get to my feet. “Let’s sit down.”
She leads me to a big table between several bookshelves; I stumble a few times thanks to the buzz I have from one too many drinks. Athena helps me and it’s plausible I may have been too hasty judging her, as she seems very sweet in helping me to sit down—until her voice sours.
“Where did you get that?” she asks and this time she’s the one with her finger pointed at me. “Did your aunt give that to you? How long have you had it?”
“I don’t know,” I say gripping the coin between my fingers.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Athena barks. “Who gave it to you?”
I gulp. Blue says he gave it to me, but not exactly. He sort-of motioned he did. I’m also not so sure I should tell her because it’s clear she’s overly eager to get her hands on it. And I’m not letting it go being it’s my only link to my missing memory.
Athena takes off her glasses and puts them on the table. “Look, Shelley,” she sighs and I still don’t know how she knows me. “I’m working on a doctorate degree. I’m a lover of history as well as mythology and folklore. I moved here two years ago to finish my research on some of the coastal sea lore. This town, Leahman’s Bluff, and its surroundings are infested with sightings of mystical creatures and magic and history—”
I yawn, unable to listen to her babble as my head starts to throb. Athena huffs at me. “How attached are you to that thing on your neck?”
I quickly come to my senses and clutch the coin. “I’m very attached.”
“Can I borrow it?” she asks trying to sound nice though it really sounds like she’s whining.
“Not a chance.”
She slams her hands down on the scratched up wooden table and stands up. I watch her stomp away and in a few minutes, she comes back dropping a stack of old books.
Oh, God. If I’d known I’d be looking at books instead of booties, I would’ve stayed home.
“Look at this,” she says. Athena looks like a crazy person as she flips through the books; if there’s anyone who knows what crazy looks like, it’s me. Athena rolls her eyes at me when she catches me yawning again; I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t help it. She finally picks a book and slides it over to me. “There. See?” she asks, indicating something.
I glance over to where her finger is pointed. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be excited, but all I see is a picture of a coin, which matches mine, among other images of coins categorized under a date labeled 1727 to 1760.
“So, what?” I ask, still swaying in my seat as the oversize hall of books spins about me.
She huffs and rolls her eyes again then pulls another much smaller book covered in fitted plastic, which I’m sure is intended to preserve it. Athena opens the book, which looks like a journal consisting of scribblings and drawings that are very good, but they are mostly depictions of naked women doing naughty things. It’s clear the women are not from this time; their features are drawn with more voluptuousness than images of this day and age. They also have hair on their privates—lots and lots of curly, thick hair. As the pages advance, the drawings become better and include greater detail. Athena flips through the book and I’m semi-amused by the evidence of porn dating back a few centuries until there is an image of a ship.
“Stop,” I say. Aboard the ship are men doing random tasks—cleaning, fishing, and on the lookout. Many have long hair and beards though a few wear wigs like the officers of America’s revolutionaries. They look as familiar to me as Aunt Cora’s paintings and books back at her beach house. Staring at a few of the long-haired men, my skin prickles as one of the mates looks familiar; he’s almost recognizable and an eerie feeling washes over me as the room stops spinning.
I notice Athena’s tiny grin with my intrigue. She turns the page to a drawing of two ships; one is drawn on fire. Flames rise from the belly of the ship, which shows a darkened woman, obviously a slave, drawn naked and in chains in the center of the vessel. I don’t understand it completely since it depicts pre-revolutionary naval officers and crew atop one ship watching the fiery destruction of the other.
I sigh; Athena turns the page once more and the same slave woman is sitting on a wave holding what looks like a pitchfork. I lean in to get a closer look.
“It’s a trident,” Athena states.
The sight of three men skewered to the sharp trident prongs held in the slave woman’s outstretched hand makes me uneasy. Nausea sweeps through me as I notice her other hand is branded with a symbol; I don’t need a history lesson to know it indicates the woman was indeed a slave and branded as property; however, in that hand, she holds three trinkets—a coin, a ring, and a compass. I squint to get a better look.
“You see it, don’t you?” asks Athena. “You see the coin in the slave’s hand matches the one around your neck.”
“Close the book,” I tell her. “This coin also matches the one in the catalogue you showed me, which means there’s probably a treasure trove or at least a hundred of them floating around.”
“Yes, but there’s a difference,” Athena says, staring at my chest again. “Your coin has the loop welded to the top, just like the one in the picture. It was meant to be a keepsake...it was meant to be worn.”
“So, it’s a knockoff! You’re freaking me out,” I scoff. “Why are you so interested?”
“Because there’s no other story out there like this and I want to be the first to publish it.” Athena whines and it frustrates me.
“Publish what? No other story like what?! You want to publish something about treasure and the slave trade?” I question her intently.
“No! About Mermen.”
I fall back and slide lower into the hard-wooden library chair and let my head roll back.
I’m not drunk enough for this shit.
“That’s how you knew my name,” I tell her. “You’ve been researching my aunt as well.”
“Yes,” replies Athena. “Your aunt was the expert, so I’m not surprised.”
I tilt my head back further to look at the thirty-year-old nerdy librarian whom, I have no doubt, is still a virgin. “She was not an expert. She was crazy. So, what could possibly surprise you?”
“It doesn’t surprise me that you, Shelley, would possess and carry at least one of the three trinkets that control the staff of Poseidon, his trident, which is really a metaphor for the three men, or mermen, with powers to control the seas.”
I think about Blue and squeeze the coin tighter because I know where the coin really came from—a homeless man. The poor guy has probably been in enough trouble, he doesn’t need an outlandish crazy woman poking into his business. I already know what that feels like.
“I’m starting to get the feeling you believe in all this stuff, Athena. My aunt labeled herself a psychic, but you should know that ‘psychic’ is really just another word for psychotic.”
“Don’t you at least find it enthralling? If the legend is true, you hold the fate of the sea along with all who travel upon it, not to mention the fate of a man, who is hundreds of years old, in your hand.”
Athena sounds ridiculous. “Don’t you mean a merman?” I laugh, but the woman won’t give up.
“Listen, after looking at these images, my associates came to the conclusion this was the retelling of a crime of some type. They believe the picture was turned into legend and, as all legends go, it was meant to be a lesson. My colleagues believe the three men committed a crime and were cursed for it. They assume the God of the Sea, Poseidon, punished the three men, but I disagree. I think they drowned trying to save this slave aboard this ship. If I’ve pieced together the legend accurately, to be a merman is not a complete curse. It might sound like a curse because merpeople become isolated and live for centuries without human contact, but it’s my understanding it’s also a second chance. These three men were granted power by Poseidon, so rather than drown and die, they were transformed. But Poseidon’s power ends with the sea. They are creatures of the water that still yearn to walk on land, to be with humans. In order for a merman to return to his human-self, he must unite with—”
“Let me guess,” I interject, “another element, like a creature of earth, a human.”
“Yes!”
“I’ve heard the rest, Athena.”
“Don’t you want to know more about the coin?” Athena asks.
“Sure,” I say and I know I sound condescending, but it doesn’t seem to bring Athena down in the slightest. Her excitement won’t quit. Although I’ve heard portions of this tale before, I do have to wait for Pike because I don’t want to walk home in the rain. “Tell me more about the coin.”
“The coin controls the merman’s fate. I don’t know how each trinket is linked to each man, but the person who possesses one of the trinkets has the power to finish the transformation. You have the power to make a man walk again...or not. You could force him to sink and swim, which I hope you’re not going to do. So, can I ask you again?” Athena takes a breath. “Where’d you get it?”
I can’t tell her. If I do, there’ll be a whole new can of worms crawling all over my personal investigation to figure out how and when I got the coin along with all the scrapes and bruises. I’m obsessive about unsolved mysteries, which I’m sure has a lot to do with my parents.
There are already too many fish in this fishpond, so I pick up the journal and throw it over to the next table. Athena gasps in horror as she stands up to go get it as I scurry out. I can hear Athena yelling after me as the heavy library doors close and I run onto Main Street.
The rain stopped so the street is again flooded with people who are more excited than they were before the rain. I wonder why Pike didn’t come to get me as I look around, but all I see as I spin a few times are wet booties along with people staring at them. Looking for any sign of Pike, I also find myself searching for the stranger who gave me the coin...
Merman.
I’m sure I must be drunk as I spin around like a lunatic looking for a man I believe could have magical powers that can’t speak, can’t walk, and claims to have given me this dumb thing around my neck, which might be very valuable, but is causing more trouble than I could wish for, especially since I can’t remember a thing about how I got it.
I pause, trying to collect whatever logic I have left and I finally see Pike. He’s chatting with a couple of cheeky women under a big tree decorated with lanterns and lights. It makes me ill; I don’t care if it was just an extra minute or two, but he left me with Athena for longer than I should’ve been. I don’t want to interrupt his flirty interlude, but I’m ready to go home and I don’t mean to Aunt Cora’s. I want to go home—back to my messy apartment far away.
I slowly move my feet towards Pike and he sees me. I watch him say farewell to the sassy ladies as I feel something hit the back of my legs. I curse as my body takes flight going backward, but something catches my fall. My bottom lands snugly onto a pair of thighs and I look down to see I’ve landed in someone’s lap.
Pike calls out to me so I turn towards his voice when I see a lightning rod pierce through the night sky hitting the tree he was just under, setting it ablaze. I scream!
I’ve never been this close to lightning and I’m guessing neither has the rest of the crowd of other booty festival-goers as they join me in a chorus of terror-stricken screaming. Pike has one hand on his gun—a trained reaction to loud noises, I figure, and he’s watching the flames burning behind him fill the night sky and causing a panic.
I feel a hand wrap around my waist and it’s reassuring, so I stop screaming, remaining seated. Everyone else continues to run, cry, and wail as the tree burns as if Heaven sent forth a punishment for behaving like heathens.
I’m quickly spun around and wheeled away, ashamed to peep at the man I’m sitting on. Of course, I know who it is, but as I turn back I see Pike—his face is filled with utter despise knowing he cannot follow me; he is forced to save everyone as he once did me. Pike halfheartedly turns in the opposite direction as I’m rolled away on top of the stranger’s lap.
