Business was slower at the park that day. The ocean rides were closed due to the algae bloom. Many of the other attractions were opening and closing a lot due to thunder. When there was no one around, she had time to sneak her phone out and check her texts.
Maddy was angry that a crazy old woman had been stalking her for less than a day. There was an unknown number- a boy from the same Christian school as most of her coworkers. He gave his name as Tristan and wanted to talk about the ocean. Whoever had given him her number, she swore she would find them and turn them over to the ghost cat. To not even ask her permission before referring a stranger was just rude.
Around noon, the forecast had changed to predict only storms for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Staff and guests were notified that the park would be closing early. The busses were packed beyond all reason, so Hazel decided to walk at least part of the way home and wait for the crowds to clear out.
She left the park thankful her mother had shoved an umbrella in her hand before allowing her out of the house. The streets took her past a few beaches, well above the scummy shores but not above their smells. She passed very few other pedestrians, all wearing ponchos and carrying their own umbrellas until one exception.
A bleach blond wearing a large, but not waterproof hoodie reclined on the bench near one of the sandy roped off parking lots, sitting sideways with her legs crossed and staring blankly at the dunes on one of the smallest beachfronts in the city. She had no umbrella, or anything else to keep dry. She had a kind of disdainful glint in her eyes that could scare off the reaper, but upon seeing Hazel she turned and waved.
Putting her head down and moving to the farthest edge of the sidewalk, Hazel tried to avoid her. To foil her plans, the young woman yelled. She couldn’t have been much older or younger than Hazel, but something about her was very unnerving. Nonetheless, when called to, Hazel had an unfortunate tendency to listen. No matter how she knew she would regret it…
“Hey, you!” Hazel tried not to meet this stranger’s eye.
“Hey…” She stopped walking just in time for a large, soaked cat to brush against her leg. The surprise made her stumble just slightly and accidentally do the unthinkable- get close to this weirdo at an out-of-the-way bus stop.
The blond swung her legs over the side of the bench to sit like a normal human. With a clearly forced smile, she addressed Hazel. “I don’t have an umbrella. Can you sit here until the next bus comes and share?”
That was it- all she needed this strange day. A huge stray cat and a probable nut. She wanted to say no and leave. It was the logical thing to do. The only smart thing to do. There were no other options that would make any sense. But things started to get a little hazy…
“I’m sorry- asking like that might be rude.” A much more lovable voice made up for the bad first impression. “Are you in a hurry? I’ve just been out here waiting and it suddenly started to rain. My umbrella is at home by the door-” The aura of doom and spite about the woman had started to dissipate.
The cat that had rammed into Hazel’s leg made a sound of malcontent, quickly reminding her how little she knew about this person and the whole situation. She raised a hand to her forehead and rolled her neck. Unconsciously, her face must have changed, because when she looked back to her new acquaintance, she was met with a very odd and very hostile expression.
Rhea was taken aback. Soaked to the bone with fresh water and covered with every piece of fuzz she’d come into contact with since getting on the bus, she threw a homemade bath bomb in the inch of water that had accumulated in the tub and planted herself on the toilet with a book. It wasn’t just any book- a rare, somewhat secret book she’d been working on herself. The cover was leather and each page was fixed with a waterproof spray once it was filled. It was, in a casual way of speaking, a type of sea witch grimoire.
“Friggin cat…” she muttered, flipping to a page on siren’s songs. There were some crude diagrams, a few quotes from folklore books, even a stapled in pocket full of cut up articles from journals and blogs. Making sure her hands were dry, if nothing else, she reached into that stash of paper snippets and pulled out everything she could hold at one time.
“Jamaican fisherman blames hypnosis in fatal accident,” “Downstate teen drowned following a strange sound, authorities confirm,” “Do Aquatic Apes Possess Alien Vocal Cords- Ancient Alien Connection?” None were useful. “My Personal Mermaid Encounter,” “How to Tell a Persuasive Person No.” Maybe some unexpected articles could have potential, but it still wasn’t the one Rhea was looking for. “Cats and Mermaids- the April Fool’s Crack Theory-” That was it.
She dropped the other papers in a pile on the back of the sink. There was plenty of trash on the internet about all kinds of things; monster ploys, scary shadows, the local legend of Barbecue Bob and the haunted grease vat… The last one was obviously fake. Tristan had picked her up and carried her much of the way to the condemned old restaurant one Halloween to play Ouija board games with the alleged spirits. It was a boring sham until the police dropped by to check for stupid kids trespassing. Then it was a bit of a disaster, but thanks to her special gift, Rhea had gotten them off with just a warning.
“Are mermaids (and mermen, wink wink) afraid of cats?” The crackpot theory began. A quick skim revealed the basic idea that cats mess with mermaids’ hypnotic abilities by being more lovable. “BS…” she muttered.
Nonetheless, she’d heard a cat when she was trying to charm that person earlier and boom- the whole thing failed. To watch a human literally just shake off the enchantment as if it was a daydream or something was a new experience for her. She couldn’t even see the cat, but the second she heard it the whole thing was over.
Throwing the articles back in their pocket and leaving the book on a shelf, she checked the bath water. Salty enough, fresh enough, just the right temperature… She would bask in her artificial ocean and think of a way to use her siren voice on cat owners. Nothing would be sweeter than finding a way around the humiliation she’d gone through at the bus stop.
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