Just before 3:00 a.m., Aby pulled the white Honda Civic into the parking lot of the only gas station in Upsala, Ontario. The Prairie Embassy Hotel remained six hundred kilometres away. The storm had become worse, which made driving difficult. There were no cars in the lot and no lights on inside the gas station. Aby turned off the engine, pushed back the seat and took off her seat belt. Turning away from her mother, she folded her hands under her head and closed her eyes.
“You’re not out of gas again, are you?” said Margaret. These were the first words she’d spoken since Aby had failed to convince her to return to the ocean.
“No,” Aby said, not moving. “But we soon will be. This station opens at six.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just go to sleep,” Aby said, but she did not take her own advice. She listened to the rain hitting the roof of the car. She looked out the window at the other end of the parking lot, where a family of animals was picking through an overflowing garbage can. Aby had never seen these animals before. They had ringed tails and were very focused on their work. They occasionally looked at her with their black-rimmed eyes, in a way that almost seemed like a greeting, although not a friendly one.
Margaret coughed and Aby listened for the rust. It was hard to tell, because the rain was so loud. Aby turned to look at her mother. Margaret’s gills were covered by her scarf. She held a white handkerchief to her mouth, which she quickly balled up and tucked into her sleeve. Still looking for evidence, Aby was surprised when her mother spoke.
“Aby, I do owe you an explanation about why I left when I did, without waiting until you were older,” Margaret said softly. “I know I should have waited, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry I can’t give you the whole story. But I can tell you this: I can tell you that there once was a woman who loved two brothers, one a carpenter and the other a tailor. She loved each of them passionately and equally. She would spend the day with the carpenter, and then at night, while he slept, she would walk across the ocean and spend the night with the tailor. Just as the sun rose, she would walk back across the ocean to the carpenter.
“This went on for some time, until one day the carpenter could no longer stand not knowing where she was always going. On the same day, the tailor could no longer stand not knowing where she was always coming from. The carpenter came out to find her as the tailor followed her, and in the middle of the ocean they met.
“Upon seeing each other, the brothers became consumed with jealousy. Each took hold of one of the woman’s hands and began trying to pull her back to his side of the ocean. She was literally being torn apart by the jealousy of the two brothers. This went on for three days, until the moon looked down and saw the woman. The moon took pity on the woman and turned her into a shell. The shell slipped from the hands of the brothers and fell beneath the surface of the water.
“Both brothers were overcome with sorrow. For the first time, they truly were brothers, sharing the same grief. They embraced, then heads bowed, each walked back to his side of the ocean. And now the tailor spends the night lifting up his side of the ocean, searching for the shell, while the carpenter sleeps. And when the sun rises, the carpenter lifts up his side of the ocean to search for the shell, while the tailor sleeps. This is what makes the tides.”
Aby reached out her hand, which her mother took.
“So you see, the tides are important. It’s good that we have the tides,” Margaret said.
Both women bowed their heads, letting their stringy hair cover their faces so neither could see that the other was crying. They sat in silence until Margaret pushed out a large breath through her gills and Aby lay back in the driver’s seat.
“Vatn auk tími?” Margaret asked.
“Vatn auk tími,” Aby repeated.
Margaret felt a weight leave her—one much larger than she’d anticipated. Her bjarturvatn was complete. There was only one more thing that had to happen, but it was perhaps the most important thing of all. Pushing her hair out of her face, she turned towards her daughter to speak, but Aby spoke first.
“Was it Mr. Honsjtosan?”
“Oh, Aby. Why would you go and ruin it like that?”
“Mr. Dfjal?”
“Certainly not.”
“Dr. Bdlks?”
“That guy, you know … Dad’s friend with the loft?”
“That’s enough, Aby. That’s enough.”
Still holding her mother’s hand, Aby nodded.