Between the Land and the Sea

Chapter FOUR

SLEEPER

Megan, Cruz I ended up hanging out a lot in the final days before school schedules would start to regiment our lives, and I got to know both of them much better. We walked into town for coffee or just lounged around listening to music. They introduced me to the area, taking me around Aptos and into nearby Santa Cruz. One beautiful late summer day we drove to The Boardwalk, pulling up to a seaside amusement park dominated by a giant wooden track poking high into the sky.

“You’ve never been on a roller coaster?” asked Cruz incredulously.

“There’s not a lot of call for thrill rides where I used to live,” I said, looking up suspiciously,

“It looks dangerous.”

“The Giant Dipper’s a classic!” enthused Megan, “It’s been here nearly a hundred years.”

“That’s comforting,” I said as I inspected the structure. From my vantage point it looked like it was made from toothpicks.

We waited in a short line, winding through a rattling wooden tunnel that vibrated each time the cars ran on the track. Listening to the muffled screams was unnerving, but every time I glanced over at Cruz he just grinned. Our turn came much too soon, and the three of us loaded onto a small car that jerked forward, immediately plunging us into a black tunnel. It made me claustrophobic, and so happily relieved to emerge into the light that I didn’t even fret about the nearly vertical ascent that followed.

We crested the top of the tracks and were treated to a beautiful view of the sandy beach bordering an endless expanse of teal-blue ocean. The old wood creaked and swayed in protest, and then the bottom dropped out, taking my stomach along with it. The little car accelerated down the track at tremendous speeds, twisting and turning, tossing me from side to side like a pinball.

Megan and Cruz’s screams still echoed in my ears when the wheels lurched to a sudden halt.

We piled out onto a wooden ramp, bodies vibrating from the wild ride.

Megan took my arm, “You look as white as a sheet... Are you okay?” I caught my breath, “Let’s do it again,” I said.

Aptos was growing on me. Long summer days started with foggy mornings that miraculously transformed themselves into warm breezy afternoons. Cruz spent as much time feverishly sewing as I did painting and was constantly calling me in to try something on or give an opinion. Megan came over for regular visits, and we spent hours lazing on the couch, watching style and design show marathons on television. We both thought Cruz was more talented than any of the designers we saw featured.

Abby was clearly pleased to see us getting along. She bustled around the kitchen, humming to herself and occasionally bringing us some interesting vegetarian concoctions to snack on. Her cooking never got much better, but she offered it up with smiles of such sweetness and genuine sincerity that none of us had the heart to refuse or criticize.

My thoughts kept straying back to Ethan. I tried to dismiss him from my mind, but knowing I’d be seeing him at school regularly made me nervous. The way he’d stared at me was disconcerting; just thinking about it made me uncomfortable. Every time I brushed by the rosemary hedge out front I could see his face.

Late at night, I would lie in bed and listen to the surf thundering on the beach. With my eyes closed I imagined that I could feel the tug of the water rocking me to sleep, for the power of the tides seemed to shake the very ground beneath my bed. One foggy Aptos morning after another I’d start awake from vivid dreams about swimming, the taste of salt air on the tip of my tongue.

I found that I enjoyed living so close to the ocean and relished my solo walks to the foggy beach. I went as early as possible, when there were few if any other people around, drawn out of my warm bed and down to the sand by the sound of the crashing waves. I reveled in the solitude, and would sit and gaze out at the horizon, imagining that the water went on forever. Sometimes the sky and water seemed to blend together, making me feel like I was floating, disembodied, sitting inside of a dream.

One morning I decided to go find Stella and deliver the bags of cat food that I’d started dropping off for her regularly. She invariably greeted me as though I were an old friend, even if she didn’t always remember my name. Stella was such a sweet confused soul that I suspected she was feeding the wild cats instead of herself; I wanted to lift some of the burden from her frail shoulders.

Flipping through my rack of clothes, I picked out a pretty silk blouse to wear with my favorite jeans. I looked out the window at the chilly gray morning and slipped on a leather jacket with a soft shearling lining. Rummaging through a suitcase I found a pair of high powered binoculars to drop into my tote bag, along with my sketch pad and some colored pencils. If I managed to spot the strange girl diver again I was determined to get a good look at her.

It was still fairly early, and I walked briskly down the stairs, delighted to find the beach nearly deserted. I wandered around a little bit, but didn’t spot Stella at any of her favorite benches. Disappointed, I decided to leave the food in a niche under the stairs where I knew she’d find it. I looked, but I never saw the timid little cats unless I was with her, for Stella alone had earned all of the trust they’d managed to summon for humankind. Still, I poured a little bit of food out onto a grassy spot, and found that it invariably vanished by the time I took the stairs back home.

I kicked off my shoes and strolled down towards the water, sinking into the dry sand with every step. When I reached the waterline I ambled along, charmed by groups of shore birds racing back and forth just ahead of the surf. White foam stretched up to claim the beach, only to be reeled back into the mass of water behind it, followed by the busy little birds. Their tiny legs churned beneath them in a blur, giving them the appearance of rolling along on wheels. I sat down on the dry sand to draw them, giggling at how comical they looked.

Finished with my first sketch, I rose to do a little beachcombing, rolling up my pant legs and getting close enough to let the ice cold water wash across my feet. I reached down and plucked a perfect unbroken sand dollar from the foamy rush. I took it as an omen that this would be a lucky day.

On this fog veiled morning the pier was empty of fishermen, and I looked up at the lonely expanse of gray weathered wood disappearing into the murky swirling mist. I picked my way across the beach to the stairs and wandered down the planks to the bench at the end of the ship.

Peering through the fence, I gazed out onto the dark choppy waters lapping at the broken concrete.

The sea lions were gone, but there was a row of black cormorants perched on the rusty rails of the ship’s broken prow. Getting out my sketch pad I sat down to begin another drawing. After I finished the birds, I looked around for a fresh subject. I started to sketch a seagull that had landed on the fence near me, eying me hopefully.

“Sorry guy, I don’t have any food for you,” I told him. He cocked his ear to listen and flew away as though he had understood me perfectly.

As the morning wore on the fog slowly peeled back, grudgingly allowing the sun take its place in the sky. I gazed out across the water and could just make out some surfers in the distance. I slipped off my jacket, stuffing it into my bag as I moved to the left side of the ship.

With my binoculars I could see the surfers clearly. There were several figures in the water and a small group of girls sitting on the beach with towels and a cooler.

The girls all wore tiny bikinis, and were anointing their bodies with oil that made them glisten in the bright sun. They were talking and laughing, their long hair blowing in the sea breeze. They looked so natural, so comfortable in their own tanned skins. I felt a pang of regret, and a longing that surprised me. I knew I’d never fit in with a group like that, and I felt like a complete outsider, as strange as if I were visiting a foreign land.

I focused my attention on the surfers. They had on black wetsuits on that made their bodies look shiny, like the sea lions. Paddling out past the breaking waves, they turned to face the shore and wait for a wave to ride in. I knew that waves came in sets, but I couldn’t discern any visible pattern.

One surfer stood up on a huge wave and clung to its side masterfully, cutting back and forth across the wall of water. I adjusted the binoculars and saw with a start that it was Ethan. Of course he would be good, I thought. He had none of the wobbly awkwardness of some of the other surfers. He sprang to his feet, lithe as a panther, and flew across the waves, twisting and swirling like a breeze. He made it look like a lot of fun, and I had a sudden impulse to try it, which was more than a little weird given my pronounced lack of swimming skills.

I kept the binoculars focused on Ethan, propping my elbows up on the wooden rail. I couldn’t stop looking at him as he skimmed across the water, defying gravity. Mesmerized, I must have leaned against the fence for at least an hour. I watched him get out of the water and spotted a tall blonde heading towards him with a towel. I recognized her as the nasty girl who had insulted me and Cruz on my first night here. Figures, I thought, as I remembered the look she had flashed me.

The bikini clad girls all sucked in their stomachs and posed alluringly when Ethan walked by. I laughed out loud as I turned back to the bench. Now you are a full-fledged voyeur, I admitted to myself with embarrassment.

The throaty barks of sea lions caught my attention, and I went over to the fence to check them out. Their shiny black heads popped out of the water a few yards from the end of the ship. I raised my binoculars and adjusted the focus, my eyes caught by a glimpse of coppery blonde hair. She was there! The girl was swimming among the sea lions! This time she didn’t see me and I watched as she moved closer with the pack of jostling creatures. She reached out to stroke one of their heads as though she were petting a dog.

Her skin was luminously pale, and I could see what looked like a fine mesh of webbing between her fingers. The sunlight reflected from her long flowing hair, gleaming in shades of red and gold. She came closer to the broken chunks of concrete and with a swift motion jumped up out of the water and perched on the shipwreck.

But she had no legs! From the waist down she was sheathed in gleaming scales that reflected all the colors of the sea. Where her feet should have been was a large feathery fin! She was a mermaid– far more majestic and breathtaking than any artist’s rendition I’d ever seen. My knees weakened and buckled and I fell to the deck.

The sudden movement startled her and in a flash she slipped back down into the water. Her face was the only thing visible as she looked up to see me on my knees. I saw the shock of recognition in her eyes and I knew it was her– the girl I had seen before. I felt faint, and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. It must be a trick of the light, I thought, or my imagination.

I looked again and she was still bobbing in the water, her golden head standing out among the glossy black sea lions that surrounded her. She studied me closely for a moment with a confused look, and slipped under the foamy waves. I exhaled, realizing that I’d been holding my breath, and was surprised again when she abruptly reappeared as close as she could get to me, still keeping halfway submerged. I felt dizzy and clung to the chain link fence, trying to steady myself.

We were less than ten feet away from one another and I could see that this was no wet suit she had on. Her smooth pale skin sparkled like fish scales and she was completely unselfconscious about her bare breasts. There was something wild and feral about her as she moved amongst the sea lions, who were nudging her hands like a litter of puppies vying for her attention. She stared at me intently and then she spoke.

“Sister, are you well? ” she asked.

Her voice was melodic, and I had the impression that she was singing.

“Who are you? ” I managed to gasp out. She looked up and was gone with a splash.

“Miss, are you alright?” a voice from behind startled me. I turned to see an elderly couple with concerned faces.

“Uh, I’m fine. I just... fell,” I said woodenly, legs crumpled under me on the asphalt deck.

“You sure do look pale,” said the gentleman. “Let me help you up to the bench so you can catch your breath.” Now I realized I was hyperventilating. Not wanting to scare them, I got up on shaky legs, took a deep breath and composed myself. I sat down and smiled convincingly.

“I was just a little lightheaded for a moment– I feel fine now.” They picked up the binoculars and handed me my tote.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to call anyone?” the woman asked.

“I’m sure,” I said firmly and watched as they made their way down the pier, casting me a few worried backwards glances. I sat there in a daze, contemplating what I’d just seen. After a few minutes I went back to the fence, pressing my face into the wire and scanning the water below. There was no sign of life on the jagged blocks of concrete.

I packed up my things and started towards home slowly, looking down at the wooden boards. I was in a state of shock, my mind clouded with awe and confusion. When I got to the end of the pier I stepped right into the path of the little band of surfers moving along the cement walkway as they left the beach. I tried to hurry away but my feet felt like lead.

Ethan spotted me first.

“Marina–” he called out.

I paused and slowly turned around. He must have noticed the dazed look in my eyes because the friendly expression dropped from his face. He regarded me with narrowed, questioning eyes that I could feel looking right through me. I could see the blonde watching him and then me with a suspicious look. I’m sure she was wondering how he knew me.

“Hello,” I said flatly, trying to sound normal. I turned abruptly and walked out onto the beach without looking back. I could hear them talking about me and laughing but I didn’t care. I felt as though I was sleepwalking as I made my way to the water’s edge. When I reached the water line I turned right, and walked numbly along the wet sand toward the stairs.

There was a shout from behind me when all at once a massive wave came from out of nowhere, knocking me to the ground. Icy cold salt-water filled my eyes and mouth as my body was violently wrenched, tossed head over heels and churned like a piece of driftwood in the surf.

As the wave receded, I struggled both to breathe and to catch my footing but the water swept me out to sea with a force I was powerless against. Choking and coughing, I was flailing in water over my head for what seemed like a very long time.

I had just seen a mermaid– an actual mythological creature! The thought occurred to me that I was going to die before I could tell anyone. I felt a hand take hold of my arm. A smooth scaly tail brushed up against me and I knew instantly that it was her. Swallowing water, I felt my body thrust upwards until my head broke the surface alongside hers. My terror filled eyes looked into her calm steady ones. I started to black out.

The next thing I knew another pair of arms had a hold of me and I opened my eyes to see Ethan dragging me out of the surf like a rag doll. He pulled me up onto the dry sand and brushed the wet hair off of my face.

“Marina! Marina!” I could hear him calling from what seemed like very far away. I closed my eyes and turned my head to vomit salty water.

When I stopped coughing I looked up to see the group of surfers standing around looking down at me. I sat up and turned away from them.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I choked, “Just go away please.”

I heard Ethan tell them to leave and that he’d catch up with them. I could hear the girls laugh as they walked away, chattering about how stupid I was. My face burned with the awful shame of humiliation as I struggled to catch my breath. Ethan returned, knelt down and wrapped a towel around me.

“Are you gonna be alright?” he asked, his eyes searching mine. I had a crazy urge to tell him everything I’d seen right at that moment, but couldn’t imagine how to even begin to put it.

“Once I get used to the idea,” I replied, trying to brush the sand off my wet hands, thinking that I had actually physically touched a mermaid. He looked at me strangely, and again I felt acutely out of place, like an alien.

“It’s a good thing I looked up and saw you get hit. That was a huge sleeper!” he said with awe, looking back out towards the sea.

“Sleeper?” I said, clearing my throat, “Isn’t that an old Woody Allen movie?”

“It’s not funny,” he said, his face serious.

I started to laugh, because it was funny. Probably the funniest, weirdest, most inexplicable thing that had ever happened to me. This brought on another fit of coughing that made it hard for me to catch my breath.

He looked worried, and then exasperated as he contemplated me.

His voice was stern and commanding, “Don’t you know that you always have to keep an eye on the surf?”

I drew a ragged breath. “Obviously, I do not,” I said, with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

His tone softened, “A big wave can come up out of nowhere– you have to be careful.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” I replied.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“So was what I just saw,” I squeezed my eyes shut with a grimace. This could not be happening to me.

He chuckled, exhaling with a sigh, “Marina, you’re an unusual girl.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” I said, looking up at him and thinking about the mermaid. I shuddered involuntarily.

“We’d better get you home,” he said.

I stood up shakily, trying in vain to wipe some more sand off my hands, noticing that my wet blouse was totally transparent. Embarrassed, I gripped the towel in front of me like a shield.

“I can make it home on my own. I’m okay.” I seemed to be having to lie about that a lot today.

“I don’t think Abby would forgive me if I didn’t walk you home,” he added, “Besides, you really don’t want to see Abby angry.”

We both laughed at the thought of sweet Abby angry, making me choke back a cough.

“Ready to climb those stairs?” he asked with a skeptical look at me.

I struggled to catch a clear breath, “How do you know about them? I thought they were the neighborhood secret.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” he teased.

“Touché’,” I started to wobble unsteadily, “Wait! My bag... my keys.” I turned to look back towards the sea. Ethan jogged down to the waterline and returned with my sketchbook.

“This is all I could find,” he said, opening it, “Is it yours?” I reached out for it and he snatched it back. “These are really good,” he said as he peeled back the wet pages. He looked at me appraisingly.

“You’re an artist,” he said, “That explains a lot.”

I doubled over in a hoarse coughing fit. Suddenly determined, he grabbed me around the waist and propelled me across the sand. My legs felt like rubber, and I struggled to keep from stumbling. When we reached the stairs he scooped me up and carried me.

I didn’t protest. I felt like I had been hit by a ton of bricks, both physically and psychologically. I turned my face into his chest and closed my eyes. When I opened them back up I was at home. Ethan gently lowered me to the bench on the porch and knocked on the door.

The next thing I knew I was looking into Abby’s worried face and he was gone. Over a cup of hot tea with honey I told her about how I was blindsided by the massive wave, skipping over the mermaid part. As shocked and dazed as I was, I had enough wits about me to realize that no one would take my story seriously.

“You were lucky Ethan was there,” she said gravely, “Thank goodness for that.”

“Abby...” I met her eyes, “Please don’t tell dad. I don’t want to worry him.” She hesitated, “Promise me you’ll be more careful?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Deal,” I said.

I ate what she put in front of me and found myself completely drained. Excusing myself with a reassuring hug for Abby, I silently retreated to my room, taking care to avoid Cruz and Megan. My mind was a swirl of confusion, and I needed some time alone to process the experience. I didn’t want to answer any questions.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my back stiff from the tumbling I had taken. Who would believe me about what I’d just seen? I had to admit that I wouldn’t believe it myself, and I smiled grimly at my predicament. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was shocked by how much I looked like her.

I soaked my sore muscles in a hot bath, crawled into bed and struggled to find a comfortable position. Playing out the strange sighting over and over in my mind I tried in vain to make some sense of it. Could there be any possible explanation other than the fact that mermaids existed? I thought about what my father would make of it, and tried to apply logic to the situation.

Zoologists classified the animal kingdom by body structure. So, having a spine, she would belong in the phylum chordata. But what class? She had breasts like a mammal, but her scales were incongruous– more like a fish or reptile. Did she breathe air? I didn’t see any gills... I couldn’t even get close to describing the genus or species before I gave up.

I knew what Evie would think. She believed in the supernatural, and had a magical explanation for every difficult situation in life. She sought out ghosts and spirits, and would often tell me that the world was full of unsolved mysteries and unimaginable truths. My father humored her, but didn’t like her filling my head with what he considered nonsense. I usually took his side on these matters, but this time I wasn’t able to.

I mentally chalked up one point in the Evie column. Exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep punctuated only by dreams of the sea.

I was floating on a surfboard in a brilliant blue green ocean, looking into Ethan’s face as he drifted along beside me. The sun was shining brightly, reflecting on the rippling water. As we rose and fell with the regular swells he smiled at me, and I laughed with joy.