Eamon

Blossom leads me in closer to the island, her face in the water. Then she stops abruptly.

“How long can you hold your breath?”

“I don’t know. A minute, maybe?”

“When it gets to be too much, signal me and I’ll pull you back to the surface. Are you ready?”

I nod, taking long, deep breaths.

“On three. One, two, three!”

The water is a deep blue green with sunlight filtering down from above. Rocks not so far from the surface are covered in barnacles and all kinds of slimy sea growth. Blossom pulls me along, and very quickly I become aware of a familiar shape beneath us.

Shipwreck!

It’s not too far down, maybe twenty feet. The vessel itself is about forty feet long, and it’s turned over completely so all I see is the cracked hull. I hover over it with a strange sense of awe and reverence.

This vessel is old, I sense. Judging from the growth of barnacles and mussels covering every inch of the surface, I’d say it sunk long before I was born. Blossom points to debris around the side of the ship, shattered pots and jars. A cargo ship, they must have been carrying wine and oil, I surmise. I wonder how many sailors manned this vessel. I wonder if any of them made it to shore…

It’s like a painting, the story of what happened here, all laid out clearly, unmarred by scavengers and the passage of time save for the sea life that came to claim it. A time capsule, perfectly preserved. And thus it will stay for who knows how many centuries for some adventurer to find again one day, and marvel at.

I’m running out of air. I signal to Blossom and she helps me back to the surface.

“Well?” she asks, beaming as I tread water, breathless. “Were you surprised?”

“I was,” I gasp.

“There are hundreds of shipwrecks up and down this coast. I’ve explored them all inside and out. It’s all I used to do, most days. My life was so boring until you came along,” she complains, and I have to laugh.

She was bored exploring old shipwrecks, but she thinks lazing around in a boat all day and listening to me sing is fun? I will never understand this girl.

We go down a few more times to explore the wreckage. She pokes around looking for odd treasures, but comes up with nothing.

Eventually we grow tired of this and make our way back to the boat. It was fun swimming with Blossom. Not just exploring the shipwreck, but the act of swimming itself, seeing the way she moves underwater. On land she’s awkward and heavy, but down here this mermaid is like the most graceful dancer, spinning and diving, hypnotizing me with her every motion while her long hair twirls all around.  

I went into the water to cool off my raging desire, but somehow even after so much exercise I only want her more. We’re only a few feet from the boat when she comes to a stop in front of me. We both tread water, inches from each other, eyes locked.

This proximity, the intimacy, our bodies so close and bumping into each other faintly, all of it’s becoming a bit more than I can take. Is it my imagination, or does she feel it too? Do I see it just because I want to see it? The invitation in her eyes?

Some madness overtakes me. I can’t say how or why I do it. I only know I can’t stop myself from leaning in suddenly and planting a kiss on her cold lips. Just a quick peck, just a taste, it’s over in an instant.

I’ll apologize, or make some excuse, I tell myself, face flaming. I’ll tell her that’s the way humans say thank you, or—

Suddenly her arms are around my neck. Her mouth presses into mine, hot and open, her tongue exploring. The force of her kiss is so intense it pushes me back into the water, and we dive together, locked like this, my arms around her, feeling the cold, wet skin of her back as I cling to her with all my might.

I don’t care if I drown. I don’t want this moment to ever end.

But of course it must end. Not even Blossom can stay under water forever.

At last we resurface, both of us gasping for air and yet still hungry, searching each other out, eager for another taste.

“Blossom—” I breathe her name between kisses.

“Shh,” she presses a finger to my lips, kissing right over it as she slowly guides me back to the boat.

Another minute, we continue like this. Then the kisses slow. She starts to pull away. I try to bring her back to me but she’s stronger than me in the water.

“Blossom,” I say her name again, but she only shakes her head.

“Get back in the boat, Eamon.”

I do as she says, my whole body trembling, hot and cold, tingling with desire. I turn and help her in too, thinking we’ll pick up where we left off, but she pushes me away, suddenly very distant. This mood swing, her sudden coldness hurts a little, I can’t lie. But I don’t press the matter. I back away at her indication and take up my seat near the rudder.

“Sing me a song, Eamon,” she commands, her voice strange, as though choked with tears. “A sad song.”

Confused, still reeling, I do as she says, and sing all of the sad ballads I know. Hours slip away. My voice is tired so I stop, and she doesn’t ask for more. We simply lie in the boat in opposite directions, our heads side by side as we stare up at the sky.

“After today, we won’t be able to meet like this for a while.”

Blossom’s voice seems strange after the long silence, but her words are even stranger. And so abrupt.

I sit up and turn to look down at her.

“Why not?”

“Don’t look for me,” is her answer. “Even if you sing, I won’t come.”

“Will I ever see you again?” I ask, my voice surprisingly calm considering the storm that’s started within me.

“I will return on the morning after the full moon. I’ll look for you,” she says, and her hand lifts briefly to caress the side of my face. “If you aren’t here, I’ll cry. So don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

That is the end of our exchange. Blossom sits up and pulls herself over the edge of my boat. She doesn’t swim away immediately, but lingers, looking up at me. She looks so sad, I think as I reach my hand out to her. She reaches back and our hands clasp, our fingers tightly intertwined.

Like this, we hold each other for a minute, just bobbing in the waves. Then without another word, Blossom releases me.

I watch her go, a fading streak of pink in the distance, feeling an ache unlike anything I’ve ever known starting in my bones.

Then she dives deeper, and vanishes completely from my sight.

Blossom

It’s dark. Nothing is darker than a moonless night.

I approach the cliffs somberly; I’ve already cried all my tears. I left my heart with my fisherman, so there’s nothing left to feel as I pull myself out of the water onto a small, well known ledge.

Sitting with my tail in the water, I rock slowly from side to side, wriggling in my own skin. Fighting to be let out.

My scales fall away painlessly. They litter the ground and fall into the water, settling on the seabed below. A shimmering mountain of rainbow pink.

After a few minutes, there’s nothing left. Just two pink legs and two bare feet.

My human body feels heavy and clumsy out of water as I rise and walk to the chest waiting in the nearby cave. I slip out of my sodden top and sling it over a rock to dry. Inside the chest is a dark terrycloth bathrobe which I don and knot securely around my middle. Sturdy boots protect my sensitive feet from the rough rock as I make my way slowly up the dark path, a perilous climb of more than a hundred and fifty feet.

At last the slope lessens, the ground opens up and the cliffs fall away. The grassy courtyard is unguarded, the back gate unlocked as I let myself inside silently. I follow the path to a small, unassuming door. The stairwell is even darker than outside. I climb the long winding staircase with one hand on the wall to guide me; my legs are aching when I finally reach the top.

The next door I open reveals a wide room lit by a small handful of candles. A noblewoman with black hair pulled into a severe bun greets me with her head bowed.

“Welcome back, Your Highness.”

I look around the opulent room with a strange feeling of alienation, as though I were a stranger and not the mistress of this entire castle.

“Thank you, Lois,” I murmur as I spread my arms and she begins to help me out of the robe. My next words come automatically, though the sudden thought of Eamon’s face puts a pang in my heart more painful than I can describe.

“It’s good to be home.”