Chapter Four

I CLOCK OUT OF WORK AND HOP ON MY TRUSTY BIKE, Big Blue. The first St. Pascal landmark I pass is the Deep End. Cheryl and I have shared many a burger and shake at the Deep End. She’s probably there right now eating with Rob. Rob works with me as a valet and we’re basically a trio. Cheryl, Rob, and me. Although our thing is usually to meet there after work to go over the highs and lows of our days, I won’t go in today. I’ve got too much to prepare for tomorrow’s main event. Besides, Mom is expecting me. I navigate Big Blue toward Lime Street. If I ride straight along Lime Street, I’ll eventually hit the Mermaid Club, where Mom should be just about finishing her shift.

“Hi, Goldie!”

“Hi, Jim!”

I wave to Jim of Jim’s Emporium. Jim’s Emporium is a massive department store where people can basically shop for whatever they need. If you’re looking for a television, you can buy one there. A nifty state-of-the-art fridge? Yup, they’ve got an entire row of ’em. In this month’s catalog you’ll find Mom posing in front of a new living room set. Mom does modeling for Jim from time to time. Unfortunately, we did not get the fancy living room set as payment.

As I pedal down Lime Street, I say hi to so many people. That’s the great thing about living in St. Pascal—everyone knows everyone. I learned how to ride my bike on these streets, and now the shop and restaurant owners see me almost every day riding back and forth, from the resort to the club or nearby to where Mom lives. Although my preferred mode of transportation would be a racy Alfa Romeo, my trusty bike has gotten me into places most cars can’t.

In the distance I see the one store in town that stands out more than any of the others on Lime Street. My feet automatically slow as I approach it. Wax Lips. It’s the only record shop in St. Pascal, and for such a small shop, Wax Lips has an incredible selection of music, from hard-to-find jazz albums to the latest rock ’n’ roll. Impromptu dance parties erupt at any time. But the best thing about Wax Lips isn’t the albums or dance parties. No. What truly makes the store unique is the person working the cash register.

Diane.

Diane is by far the coolest person on Lime Street. Correction, Diane is by far the coolest person in all of St. Pascal, and she works at Wax Lips.

Before I realize it, my face is pressed against the glass window of the record shop, searching for Diane. She has short black hair and the coolest demeanor. She knows all there is to know about music, and she lines her eyes with dark eyeliner. She’s taller than me but I don’t care. Did I mention how cool she is? Very. Cool.

The record store is jam-packed with people wanting to buy music. Right in the midst of the commotion stands Diane, reigning supreme like a modern-day Joan of Arc, guiding the customers to their melodic choices. Even in all the craziness, Diane still manages to stop for a second and wave hello to me.

Like a fool I take a look around to make sure Diane is waving at little ol’ me and not someone else. I wave back. She gestures for me to enter with a quick nod, but I say no by rubbing my belly to note that I’m hungry. I wonder if my gesture is kind of ridiculous. Then I start to get a little flustered and begin to question everything. Is my wave a little goofy? Does she understand that I promised my mom I would meet her at the Mermaid Club? Does Diane think I’m a weirdo standing in front of the store communicating with my hands?

While all this processes in my head, a customer asks Diane a question and she heads toward the stack of albums. Before she goes, Diane gives me a warm smile.

Sigh.

I pride myself on being able to talk to just about everyone. I’ve never been the type of person to get nervous. Never. Diane is different. I get tongue-tied whenever I’m around her. Cheryl thinks it’s funny to see how I act around her. She says I should get the nerve and finally ask her out. I don’t know what’s stopping me. I am fearless. Brave in the face of adversity. There is no obstacle I am not willing to overcome. But asking Diane out on a date? I’m going to have to find real courage for that one. Besides, a girl as cool as Diane probably has her calendar full of dates.

I pedal away and continue down Lime Street.

IT’S NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS THE MERMAID CLUB. Just drive straight down Lime Street until you see the gigantic mermaid lounging across a building with a bright neon MERMAID CLUB sign pulsating on and off above her head.

I climb off my bike and walk toward the back of the club to avoid the small crowd lining up to enter.

In order for a club to stand out, sometimes you need a gimmick. The gimmick of the Mermaid Club is that the club is filled with actual mermaids living their lives in a large tank. People can sit down and have a meal while watching mermaids swimming around their underwater homes. Mermaids combing their long, luxurious hair. Mermaids exercising. Mermaids dancing their elaborate water ballets. I love everything about the club. It’s magical and wondrous and beautiful.

Like every kid, I, too, believed mermaids existed. I thought there must surely be scores of mermaid families living in the deep blue sea, dropping off their mermaid kids at their mermaid schools before heading to their mermaid jobs. But I can’t truly recall when I discovered mermaids didn’t exist. I do remember that soon after Mom started working at the club, I realized that the true magic doesn’t exist solely when the mermaids synchronize swim, but can also be found behind the scenes: the workers maintaining the tank so that it’s not too cold or too hot, or the hidden oxygen tanks where the mermaids swim to inhale and then float back out. I love illusions like this. We all need a break from reality sometimes.

I also remember seeing Mom’s mermaid fin at home one day and thinking, So that’s what Mom’s been doing. Mermaids no longer were these mythical creatures; they became amazing alchemists creating wondrous feats in the water and making audiences believe. They are up there with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

TABLES AND BOOTHS FAN OUT IN A SEMICIRCLE, FACING the large tank of water. In the tank, breathtaking mermaids swim about in choreographed underwater movements. At the far left of the tank I spot Mom. She twirls in the water with such grace. Her movements enrapture the entire audience. I sit at my booth off to the side, marked with a RESERVED sign, and wait, thinking of Diane, Delphine, and beauty.

“What’s with the long face?” Mike is the bartender/co-owner of the Mermaid Club. He’s like a mountain with big broad shoulders and large hands. Mike told me he used to be the Strong Man in a traveling circus. When people first meet Mike, they usually think he’s menacing, but not that many people know that Mike is a poet. Like me, he always travels with a tiny pad in his back pocket, ready to jot down a new verse or two.

“Hey, Mike. I’m okay—just got a lot on my mind,” I say. “Are the words flowing today?”

Mike pulls out the pad.

“The ocean reminds me of your eyes, endless and…” he says in his deep baritone. “Still trying to figure out what goes after endless.”

The pencil in his hand looks like a toothpick.

“I’m sure the word is right at the tip of your tongue,” I say. “Are you thinking of reciting at the coffee shop on Friday?”

Mike tucks the pencil behind his ear. “I think it needs a little more cooking before I debut my new poetry in front of a crowd. Besides, this week I’m working overtime.” He points to the crowd of men offstage unloading equipment.

“Business must be booming.”

Mike nods. “It’s been nonstop.”

“Mike, I’ll need a couple of root beers for table four.” A woman dressed in blue, matching the interior of the club, approaches the table. It’s Angie, Mike’s girlfriend. Angie used to be a dancer on Broadway but an ankle injury ended her chorus line days. She’s now in charge of the mermaid choreography. “Goldie, I didn’t see you there.”

She gives me a hug. The club is about to pick up. A lot of workers come to the Mermaid Club to unwind.

“Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare,” Angie says. Mike nods in agreement.

“What do you mean? I can’t wait for tomorrow,” I say. “This is the best thing to happen in St. Pascal. Movie madness!”

One of the film guys knocks into an oversize seashell that shatters to pieces.

“You nailed it, all right. Movie madness.” Mike heads over to the workers and hands one of them a broom. The man doesn’t even question Mike. He immediately starts picking up after himself. Mike soon returns with a tray of drinks for Angie. She trots off to serve them to the table.

“The only reason I said yes to the movie was because Mr. Maple said it would be great for both of our businesses, but I’m not too sure,” Mike says. “It’s hard for me to let random strangers take over. Set designers. Cameras. Lights. Don’t get dazzled by Hollywood. It’s just a lot of smoke and mirrors.”

“I won’t, Mike. I’ve got a strong head on my shoulders.”

For a few seconds we watch Mom as she finishes up her dance. She attaches herself to what we like to call “the Spinner.” It’s a contraption that looks like a pole and it spins the mermaids rapidly when they connect themselves to it. How you can go around so much without getting dizzy is beyond me, but Mom is a pro.

“I like the new act,” Mike says before going back to man the bar. “Every girl gets their own signature move and your mom has one of the best.”

The audience loves it, too. I wait a bit longer before heading toward the dressing room. I knock three times. Three is the secret code between Mom and me.

“C’mon in, Goldie.” Mom’s colorful fins hang up to dry while she sits in front of the vanity table, slowly taking off the waterproof makeup.

“Hey, babe,” she says. “Are you hungry?”

“Yup. Today has been a day full of surprises.”

“Really? Tell me about it while I get into my clothes.” She goes behind a wooden panel to change into her regular capri pants and matching top.

“Walt is letting me help out tomorrow! He wants me at the hotel super early when a special delivery is, ummm, being delivered,” I say. “This may be the break I’ve been waiting for. If I can show Walt and Mr. Maple how good an assistant I am, maybe they’ll promote me.”

“Now, Goldie. I wouldn’t place all of my bets on Mr. Maple paying attention to you tomorrow. There’s so much going on. He might be busy.”

“Okay. You’re probably right. I’m just so excited I can barely stand it.”

Mom laughs. “Well, if you’re excited, I’m excited for you. Hand me my cardigan, will you, babe?”

“Besides, we get to work together tomorrow,” I say.

Mom hugs me. “Yes, we do,” she says. Mom places her reddish-brown hair up in a ponytail. I get my thick bangs from her. “Me and you against the world. So, how’s your father doing?”

“He’s good. He wants to make sure everything goes smoothly tomorrow. Mr. Maple is apparently on edge but what else is new.”

“Same thing at the Mermaid Club. Mike had to post a long list of Dos and Don’ts for the workers tomorrow. This is one job that I’m almost regretting taking. So much fuss over who you can and cannot talk to. Who knows if I will even make the cut on the big screen? Baldwin Studios is really going all out on this movie. Poor Mike has to work through the night making sure the workers transform the Mermaid Club into a dazzling movie set.”

She grabs her things and we both head out through the secret hallway to avoid anyone seeing her out of costume. This door leads out to the back of the club. Only the workers know about it. No one else. We walk over to my bike and I place it in the trunk of Mom’s car. We drive toward her apartment, only a few blocks away.

Mom’s place is located on the top floor in an apartment complex. Some might consider it small, but it’s perfect for the two of us. I put my overnight bag in the bedroom off the living room while Mom places her bright-yellow mermaid fins and matching bikini top in the bathroom. In the living room Mom has framed pictures of us together. Mom, Dad, and me. There’s the picture of us on vacation in Niagara Falls. It was sure cold that day. It’s safe to say that I might not be made for cold weather. There are a few pictures of me on my first day of school. And there are plenty of pictures of me in front of our Christmas tree. My favorite picture is of all three of us in front of the Crossed Palms Resort. Mom had just dropped me off for my first real day of work with Dad, and the resort photographer was testing out her new camera. I love it because Mom and Dad are both holding me so tight it looks like I’m about to burst with love.

Mom pulls the casserole she made the other day from the fridge and turns the oven on to heat it up for us. Even without all the sequins and over-the-top makeup she has to wear as a mermaid, Mom is still the most beautiful woman in a room. I really wish I could tell her about Delphine and the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. I’m never one to keep things from Mom, especially news of this magnitude. How to tell her without telling her? Now, that’s the key.

“Mom, what do you know about filming tomorrow? Did they tell you who will be on set?”

“Oh no. They are keeping everything under wraps. Hush-hush. I’m sure it’s some big movie star. I just hope she’s not too much of a diva. The Mermaid Club is already filled with divas. One more and the tank might shatter.”

“You don’t have any idea who it might be? No guesses at all?”

“Hmmm. Well, who do you think it is?”

“Who me? Oh, I don’t know,” I say with the goofiest grin plastered on my face. “It could be anyone. I mean, let’s deduce the possibilities. The actress must be a pretty strong swimmer and not be too afraid to spend hours in the water. There aren’t that many actresses out there who would be willing to do that, to be a queen of the ocean, so to speak.”

Mom raises her eyebrows and serves us both a generous amount.

“A queen, huh?”

I nod.

“Well, whoever it is, she will be well taken care of by you,” she says. “You are the best at making people feel at home in St. Pascal. You’re our very own welcoming committee.”

“Thanks.” I let her words wash over me, but I can’t seem to shake this tiny thing nagging at me. I try to forget about it while eating Mom’s delicious casserole, but it’s not working.

“Mom, what do you do when you are so nervous you know you’ll be unable to sleep?”

She takes my empty plate, places it in the sink, and leans against the kitchen counter. With the sun setting behind her, the light creates such a radiant glow around her.

“What are you so nervous about? I thought working with Walter is what you wanted.”

“Oh, it is. Definitely. But what if I make a mistake or something?”

She opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of milk. In a saucepan she heats the milk up and sprinkles just a pinch of cinnamon on it.

“First, warm milk is known to cure insomnia. Drink this up. Now, the only thing you can do to ensure tomorrow works in your favor is simply show up. Your dad and I raised you to be a strong, hard worker. A person who loves to help. Just show up tomorrow ready to be of service. If you do your best, you can’t go wrong. Being afraid is good, but letting fear stop you from doing what you love, that’s not good.”

“Okay, I’ll try to remember that,” I say.

“Now, don’t stay up late. What time are you meant to be at the resort tomorrow?”

“Five in the morning.”

“Five in the morning! Drink this milk and head straight to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for both of us.”

“I promise I won’t stay up,” I say.

Mom heads to her bedroom, where she will place her hair in tiny braids to maintain the curl. She’ll then wrap her hair up in what I like to call her sleeping scarf.

I sip the warm milk and pull out my pad. I make a list of the things I want to remember to bring with me tomorrow. At the top of the list is my magnifying glass. Mom gave it to me when I was seven years old. Back then, I was obsessed with the ants that suddenly invaded our kitchen. I wanted to investigate everything. When she gave me the magnifying glass, I patiently followed the line of ants to the tiny hole that led outside and finally located their home. Some of the neighborhood kids wanted to use my magnifying glass to do evil things to the ants. Not me. The magnifying glass showed me how hard the ants worked together. If you take your time and look closely, you can find the truth about things.

I’ll listen to Mom. Tomorrow I’m going to show up to work ready to do my best.