After we loaded all the road cases into the dining room, Nan and Luca left to meet Bitsie at the community center. Since a large enough tank would be hard to find, Luca came up with the idea of underwater cameras and big screens to project the action. They were hoping to charm the community center manager into letting them use the pool for free, since tickets from the show would fundraise for the center.
Hannah and Woo Woo sent me measurements, so I needed to work on their costumes. I stole some of Isaac’s good coffee and made the closest approximation of a frappuccino I could manage with almond milk and maple syrup.
And then Mo called. “Please, can you help? The unveiling is two weekends from now, and I’m totally behind.”
“For a little bit,” I told her, “but I need to work on costumes.”
“You help me,” Mo said, “and when we’re done, I’ll help you crank ’em out.”
I knew it wasn’t a fair trade. Mo didn’t have patience for fine work the way I did. She was good with broad strokes. Large scale. What I did was slow and small and careful. But I said yes anyway, because it was Mo, and she needed me. And I needed the company.
* * *
I downed my coffee and changed my clothes, grabbing a pair of socks for those gross work boots. Bark followed me to the foyer. When I stepped into my flip-flops, he wagged his tail.
“Do you want to come with me?” I asked.
He reared up, waving his front legs in the air. I decided to go with it. Maybe the road trip and his time with Althea had made him brave. On the walk to Mo’s, he trotted slightly behind me, barely pulling on the leash. He even sniffed a mailbox post like a normal dog.
* * *
“Hey, how was it?” Mo asked, voice muffled by her welding mask.
Bark was taken aback by her getup. But as soon as she lifted the mask, his legs stopped shaking. He pulled on the leash to bring us closer so he could say hi.
“I lived.” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk about it. I didn’t want to hear that I was being silly.
“Alone in a car with your dreamy man and ‘Oh, I lived,’ ” she said, scratching Bark’s head, leaving soot behind his ears. He was wiggly and happy for her attention.
“I got my period yesterday. So, you know, awkward bathroom stuff.” I told her about Bark’s thievery.
“Oh! Worst!” Mo said. She got us beers and we sat on an old wood pallet. “You can let him off leash. I don’t think there’s anything at his level he can get into.” She pointed to her eyes and pointed at Bark, like she was putting him on notice.
The garage door was wide open. I wasn’t used to having Bark off leash in an open space, but I unclipped him because Mo seemed so sure it would be fine. I half expected him to run away from me, like this shot at a jailbreak was all he’d been waiting for. Instead, he walked around Mo’s garage sniffing things, then plopped down on the floor at my feet.
“One time,” Mo said, “I was sort of seeing this guy in college, and he lived in an off-campus house. I flushed a tampon and he had to call Roto-Rooter. I wanted to disappear. And the Roto-Rooter guy was all, ‘If it doesn’t come off the roll or out of you . . .’ And I was like, ‘Well, it did come out of me,’ but I was way too embarrassed to defend myself.”
I was shocked. Mo never seemed to get embarrassed by anything, but just telling the story made her face flush.
“And, like, if guys had periods, all plumbing would be able to handle tampons. You know it’s true.”
I laughed. “That sounds about right.”
“But, that was in college. Luca is a man. I bet if you’d explained why you wanted to go to the gas station, he would have been happy to take you.”
“Maybe,” I said, knowing she was probably right. “I might have added an obstacle that wasn’t really there.” Worrying about a tampon was so much easier than worrying about everything else.
“So what’s really bothering you?” she asked.
“Luca is staying.”
“That’s great!”
“To shoot a mermaid documentary.”
“Whoa!”
“Because they’re doing a reunion show at the community center.”
I expected Mo to get excited about the idea of the show, but she didn’t. Her face fell.
I looked away. Hot with shame. Eyes tearing. Bark came over to smell my cheek.
“Oh, hon,” Mo said, wiping tears from my face with her hand. “Shit.” She used the sleeve of her t-shirt to wipe the spot on my cheek she’d touched, and waved her sooty fingers at me. “Sorry. Got most of it.” She wiped her hands on her shorts. “They’re not going to drown doing this show. One, I go to mermaid class sometimes—”
“You do?”
“Yeah,” Mo said. “It’s a hell of a workout. Those ladies are strong swimmers. And two, I know all the lifeguards over there. They’re awesome. And three, I’ll go to as many rehearsals as I can. And I’ll be at the show no matter what. Okay?”
I nodded.
We sat, shoulders touching, quiet.
“Maybe it’ll all get better if you kiss that boy and tell him you love him,” Mo said, nudging me with her shoulder.
“I think he’s only interested in my grandmother,” I said.
Mo laughed.
“You know what I mean. He came here for a new story. Not me.”
“Couldn’t it be both? Or even that he came for you and found an excuse to stick around?”
“Even if he did come for me—I can’t do that to him, Mo. He’s too—”
“He’s too wonderful and I’m too shitty,” Mo said, raising her voice half an octave to mimic me. “Stop. Seriously. Stop. You’re good. I like you. I’ve liked you for most of my life now.”
“I was gone for a lot of it.”
“I didn’t get stupid when you got married,” she said, smiling. “I still liked you.” Bark sniffed Mo’s shoulder and pushed his head into her hand for a scratch.
“But Luca’s been through so much,” I said.
“So have you.”
“Yeah, but there’s something broken in me.”
“The people who don’t have broken parts aren’t interesting,” Mo said. “You’re hurt and you hide it until you can’t. It’s okay. You’re just human.”
“It’s not okay.”
“I’ve seen you at your worst,” she said. “It’s not so bad.”
I remembered the time I had a panic attack when her uncle came to visit and took us to SeaWorld. I screamed at her in the bathroom. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Echoing in the cinder block walls. It was a big deal for her to get to take a trip like that. To have the attention of her uncle. And instead of leaving me, she sat on the floor of the bathroom with her hand under the stall door, waiting for me to hold it.
“You always made me feel like it was safe to show you the messy stuff,” Mo said. Her voice cracked. “So don’t you dare tell me you’re no good for anyone because you fall apart sometimes.”
I thought about fifth grade when we’d finally scored invites to Ashley Marshall’s sleepover. We both declined because Mo still wet the bed. Sometimes I washed her sheets at Nan’s when she smuggled them to our house in a backpack so her grandmother wouldn’t worry about her. Maybe she wouldn’t have been able to tell another friend.
Mo kicked her boot against the pavement. “The thing that makes me sad—You’re friends with me, so I don’t know why you feel like you have to be perfect.”
“Because my mom left,” I said, surprised by how close the answer was to the surface. “I wasn’t good enough to save my dad, and my mom left me, and if I wasn’t careful, Nan would too.”
“Nan wouldn’t,” Mo said. “I won’t either.”
I took a sip of beer. She held the bottom of the bottle up, so I had to gulp. When she finally let go she said, “Do it!”
I stared at her.
“For me,” she said.
I let out the loudest, longest burp ever.
Mo fell on her side, laughing and kicking her legs. “Hysterical!”
Bark licked her face until she was gasping for air.
Mo and I worked for three hours, but we got more done than we had on all the other nights put together. We’d developed a flow to our work. I knew how to read her gestures, to anticipate what she needed and have a tool at the ready.
When Mo said, “Alright, I’m getting bleary-eyed,” Morty looked done to me. He was mammoth and serene. She’d captured the grace that made manatees so easily mistaken for mermaids by sea-worn sailors.
“I can get this done in about ten to twelve hours,” she said. I think she read the panic on my face, because she quickly added, “Solo work. You helped me finish all the heavy lifting stuff. I have to work on the patina at the welds, tweak things here and there. And then I’m all yours for costumes!”
“Thanks,” I said, hoping she couldn’t read that panic too.