Seven Tears at High Tide (10 page)

“I am a selkie,” Morgan says, watching Kevin for a response. His fingers twitch nervously under Kevin's.

Kevin interlaces their fingers to show his support, and he nods, still too stunned to speak. It almost could be a dream, the velvety night all around them, softly lit by the moon and stars, Morgan sitting next to him, looking at him ador­ingly. Except Kevin knows the warmth of Morgan's hand is real, what he saw only a moment ago, the way his heart beats in time with the waves crashing ashore—this is all real, and his boyfriend is
magic.

Morgan tells Kevin about his family following the current, traveling all over the world, staying in different places depending on the season; about selkies and other shape-shifters from the depths of the ocean. It's as though a whole door of possibilities has opened in Kevin's mind, casting light on every strange experience he's had, on every person who's ever mentioned “locals” no one in town has heard of.

As a seven-year-old kid, Kevin was playing in the waves, and drifted far, far from Piedras Blancas, and had no idea where he was, and another kid found him in the water, crying because he couldn't recognize the beach. The other boy just took Kevin's hand and swam with him back to Piedras Blancas, and disappeared into the waves before Kevin could invite him ashore to play. Kevin remembers being distraught that he couldn't find his new friend anywhere in town, asking everywhere for a dark-skinned boy with a gap between his teeth. Had he been a selkie? Or another shape-shifter?

“Magic. What else is there? Vampires? Werewolves?”

Morgan laughs at him. “I don't know.” He smiles solemnly at him, tone changing to reverent, serious. “I can't speak for land creatures, but the Sea is deep and ancient, full of secrets.”

“This explains so much about you. Why I don't see in you in other clothes, all the fish you brought—”

“I'm a good hunter.” Morgan smiles, sitting a bit more upright.

“But how did you know my name? Where I lived?”

“The Sea hears many things, many stories, wishes, pleas,” Morgan says quietly. “You cast seven tears at high tide, asking for a companion. We have not had a proper Request in so long that my family was bound by our code to honor it. I was put to the task.”

Kevin shivers. “Wait a minute. You're only hanging out with me because of… some sad wish I made?”

Morgan shakes his head. “Kevin, I am here because I want to be.”

“You just said I was a ‘task,' something your people felt obligated to do because I cried my heart out into the ocean.”

“A Request,” Morgan corrects. “I would not have come if I had not liked what the Sea told me about you, and what I knew I loved immediately.”

“I told you, you can't keep saying that, I like you a lot, but—”

“You're cold. You should remove your wet skins.” Morgan tugs on the saturated T-shirt clinging to Kevin's torso. It's wet and cold and getting less comfortable by the minute, but Kevin isn't sure how he would handle it if they were
both
naked.

“It's fine,” Kevin says, ignoring the growing chill. First he was thrilled to find out more about Morgan, about the supernatural, but now he's starting to wonder how much of Morgan's feelings are his own and how much is an omniscient, magical oceanic sentience showing pity on him. “I should get home. My parents know I hole myself up in my room sometimes, but it might be weird if I don't get caught creeping to the kitchen to steal snacks.”

“I can walk you back to your home.”

“Sure.”

With the pelt carefully wrapped around his neck like a scarf, Morgan picks up Kevin's sweatshirt, dusts off the sand and then puts it back on. Kevin thinks the hood is caught on Morgan's head for a second before he realizes Morgan is pausing to breathe in the scent of it. Morgan bends over to pull on the shorts, and Kevin realizes the smattering of freckles on his bare back correlates to the spotted pattern he's seen on the seal. Kevin realizes he's staring, blushes and looks at his feet and only looks up when Morgan takes his hand again.

“You smell like anxiety,” Morgan says. “Are you unhappy that I am not truly human?”

“No, it's not that.” Kevin casts about for a way to explain, while he struggles to process that Morgan can
smell
his anxiety.
Has he always been able to do this?
“I just…”

“You worry that I might have been compelled to feel this way about you.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says in a small voice. He kicks at a stray pebble and his waterlogged shoe hangs heavily on his foot.

They stop walking, and Morgan takes both his hands and looks up at him, holding his gaze. The street is dark and empty, lit only by moonlight and a flickering streetlamp. “Kevin, when I first shifted, I wasn't quite sure how to use my human form. I'd never done it before, never wanted to, even though most of my family has had practice. You helped me, and then gave me your skin off your back. I didn't know yet that it didn't mean the same thing for humans, but I was overwhelmed by your kindness and trust.”

Morgan speaks with a clear voice, confident and steady. “I chose you, chose your Request. The Council may have said they assigned me, but you had my heart long before they heard your Request and thought who best in our herd could fulfill it. I was there, I saw you, heard you, wanted to know you.” Morgan lowers his gaze, looks up through his eyelashes. “The time I've spent with you has been wonderful, more than I ever could have hoped for.”

“I really enjoy our time together, too. But that isn't love—we're just hanging out, you know. We're dating, having a good time. Maybe in a longer relationship after we've been through a lot of stuff, we could say we loved each other, but—”

Morgan shakes his head. “When my pelt was missing, I was terrified. I thought maybe—” He takes a deep breath; a sudden, wild fear shines in his eyes, and then the look is gone, replaced with a calm wonder. “You said you took it, but then immediately returned it to me when you found out it was mine. You didn't know what it was or what you could have done with it—you gave it back knowing only that it belonged to me and that I was unhappy.”

“Yeah, it would have been a jerk move to keep it.”

Morgan squeezes Kevin's hands. “Did you know my people have a history of coming ashore? We don't do it very often anymore, take human forms like this. There are stories of pelts being stolen, humans keeping us for themselves—”

“I would never do that to you.”

Morgan's entire face softens. “How do you doubt that I love you?”

“It's because we're kids. We don't know what love is.”

Morgan plucks a stray piece of seaweed from Kevin's hair. “It's simple. I care about you, enjoy spending time with you and want you to be happy. It's the easiest thing in the world to understand. I knew it when I saw you and you gave me the skin to wear, and I definitely knew it when you gave me back mine. It's that warm, happy feeling in your gut, you know.”

He doesn't ask Kevin if he feels the same, doesn't seem to need to; seems happy to just express it, to make sure Kevin knows. There's a long-winded, complicated explanation he could give right now, but Morgan's simple definition and acceptance strikes him as an honest truth.

Maybe Kevin is the one who's making it complicated. Maybe, when he said
we don't know what love is,
he meant
I don't know what love is
. Morgan seems to have a clear idea of what love means to him and how he feels about Kevin; he has no problem being open about it. Kevin remembers Morgan's immediate declaration of feelings when they met, how he reacted with a kind of amused detachment, acknowledged Morgan's feelings but didn't feel ready or worthy of such unconditional adoration.

But he knows Morgan now, knows his inquisitive nature and his kindness, his patience and easy sense of humor, knows Morgan supports his hopes and dreams. Kevin wants to be worthy of that affection, wants to continue knowing this amazing person who's come into his life.

“Okay,” Kevin says, stepping closer and pressing his face into Morgan's neck, nuzzling at the skin there. He smells like the sea, the wild surf rolling in, the sharp tang of salt, bright and clean. He kisses him quickly on the jawline, then again, peppering him with light, playful kisses until Morgan laughs, grabs his chin and kisses him soundly on the mouth.

“Come on, aren't you still cold?” Morgan teases.

“Forgot.” Kevin says, a little breathlessly. The wet clothes are still heavy on him, but somehow, he's not cold at all.

Eight.

That night Morgan
takes his time swimming back to his family's beach. He knows he's later than usual—the moon is high in the sky—but he's too happy to think about it. He swims lazily, curling his body into the waves, drifting on his back to watch the moonlight and sighs happily, thinking about Kevin.

Kevin didn't run away or react with disgust when Morgan told him his secret. He only worried Morgan's feelings for him were a byproduct of fulfilling his Request, but Morgan explained it the best he knew how.

Telling him the truth was an impulsive decision, but Morgan was so overwhelmed that Kevin wanted to give him back his sealskin that he wanted Kevin to know how much that meant to him.

And even after that, Kevin made no moves to take it from him, only listened curiously as Morgan told him about what he was.

Morgan floats along carelessly, until he can feel the worried voices brushing across his skin, echoing through the water.

“We were so worried!” Naida snaps as he beaches himself. She runs into him, bumping him with her nose.

Mother is sitting by the cliffside, watching as Morgan ambles up to her.

“Sorry, I lost track of time,” Morgan says.

“We were beginning to wonder if you had been stolen,” Linneth says, and Morgan instantly feels guilty for making everyone worry. He cuddles up to her, feeling the solid comfort of her warmth. The sharp smell of relief is in the air, and Morgan huddles under her flipper as he did when he was a pup.

“How was your day?” Dorian asks. “Did you watch any more movies?”

The usual group huddles around them, eagerly waiting for Morgan to describe more of his adventures.

Morgan hesitates. “No, no movies today.”

Dorian groans.

“What did you do?” Naida asks. “Are you mating, is that what you're doing? Humans do it differently, it requires quite a bit of preparation—”

“No, no, we're not doing that,” Morgan takes a deep breath, waiting for everyone to be quiet. “I told Kevin I'm a selkie. Showed him, too.” He smiles, remembering Kevin's awed look.

The rest of the selkies start mumbling, then talk over one another in short, panicked barks.

“Accidental reveals are one thing, but this is someone Morgan's been seeing for quite some time,” Morgan's uncle Dinar says. “It won't be something he easily forgets.”

Someone nods. “Linneth, didn't you just tell us the dangerous ones were back?”

“What? What dangerous ones?” Morgan asks.

“You haven't been around much, but I heard that this bunchbadly injured one of the members of a herd that is summering on Vancouver. It was before the herd left their other home. The dangerous ones wish to capture us at any cost.”

“And do what?” Morgan asks in horror.

“Study us, dissect us, whatever it is, it isn't good,” Naida butts in.

Linneth waits until the talking ceases. “Do not panic,” she says loudly. “I do not know if these are the same hunters who took Andav from the northern iced lands. But one of them was spotted in Piedras Blancas. The Sea has told me to be careful. I do not want anyone swimming near the Moon's Eye or south of it. If Morgan has chosen to reveal his true nature to this Kevin, it is because he trusts him. We should trust Morgan.”

Morgan feels proud as her flipper rests on his back, and everyone looks at him. “As you know, Morgan is sixteen years of age now. This is his last year. It is a good experience for him, to learn the human way, and for him to have a relationship with this boy.”

The rest of the seals murmur in agreement, and slowly disband, either to find a spot on the beach to sleep for the night, or to return to the incoming tide, to sleep amidst the waves.

“What do you mean, my last year?” Morgan asks, turning the words over in his head.

“Your last year as a child, of course,” Linneth says. “Don't worry about it. When the summer is over, we will leave here, and you will have plenty of memories of loving this boy to warm your heart.”

Something unsettles Morgan, the way his mother's eyes shift, the way she says
memories.

When the summer is over, the Request will be fulfilled.

Morgan doesn't want to think about it.

Nine.

They fall into
a routine. Now that Kevin knows Morgan's secret, there's no more mystery about where he goes when he's not hanging out with Kevin. Morgan hides his pelt somewhere else, and he asks if Kevin wants to go with him, but Kevin refuses, even though it would be cool. He wants to show Morgan that he doesn't care where it's hidden, that he has nothing in common with those people in the stories who want to find the pelts to keep their selkie lovers human. The slow smile that spreads across Morgan's face when Kevin tells him this is completely worth giving up a little bit of his curiosity.

Morgan has his secret, and Kevin is glad of it. Neither of them brings up the subject of the pelt, and they spend their days in a happy, muddled mix of Kevin's bedroom, the state park and the ocean.

“I've always wanted to see the Moon's Eye up close,” Morgan says one day while they're walking along the beach, looking for sea glass.

“The what?”

Morgan points at the lighthouse off in the distance and his ears turn red. “I wanted to ask before, but I didn't know what the human name for it was.”

“The lighthouse!” Kevin grins at him. “Well, light station, technically, but no one calls it that.”

They join a guided tour with a handful of tourists, and Morgan listens to the history with rapt fascination. Kevin's been here too many times to count, but it's refreshing to experience it again with Morgan.

“I like that the light helps to guide humans and their ships back to shore,” Morgan says at the end of the tour. They're in the gift shop and Morgan turns over a little lighthouse model in his hands, tracing the light. “We've always called it the Moon's Eye because it shines at night, watchful, even when the moon isn't out.”

“That's so cool. Do selkies have names for everything?” An elaborate world map is displayed on the wall, and Kevin brushes the familiar outline of California with his fingers, moving up the coast.

“Yes, they aren't the same as how humans name places.” Morgan's hand covers Kevin's as they trace together. “California… Oregon…Vancouver… Alaska.” He smiles at Kevin. “Our names have more to do with one specific location: a herd's winter home or a landmark for guiding a journey. There's an outcropping of rock here we call the Whale's Tail, and this is Kevin's Nose.”

“What? Where?”

Morgan taps him on the nose. It's so quick that it takes Kevin a moment before he realizes what just happened and then bursts out in surprised laughter.

It's the best relationship Kevin's ever had. Well, technically, the only relationship. Kevin can't believe he used to count what he had with Miles as anything other than Miles using him.

That brief affair now seems like a lifetime ago: The way Kevin hung onto Miles' every word, how he was always waiting for more, rereading text messages over and over, searching for hidden meanings. Miles was only ever interested in hooking up, and Kevin was so quick to mistake that casual intimacy for actual affection. Sure, it was thrilling, making out with another person, and feeling attractive for once. But Miles ran hot and cold, eagerly touching him in the secrecy of Miles' bedroom, but ignoring him at school.

Miles wanted
more,
too. When Kevin, as a joke, showed him the supplies his parents had gotten him, Miles lit up and said, “Condoms, awesome. We can have sex now.”

Kevin faltered, stumbling over his words, trying to explain that he wasn't ready—maybe when they'd been a relationship longer; after all, they'd only started figuring out how to get each other off, and he was just getting comfortable with the idea of orgasms with a partner in general.

Miles shrugged. “Whatever, just tell me when you're done waiting so we can screw.”

His blunt and casual attitude took Kevin aback, and at the time he felt guilty for his own preferences, for wanting to wait. He researched the mechanics in depth, figured it would be intense and probably difficult, not something he wanted to rush into. But Miles wanted to, so Kevin decided maybe he should just go along with it. Otherwise Miles would think Kevin didn't like him as much.

Kevin is so glad Miles broke off their stupid arrangement before they had sex.

It's a good thing, because it wasn't a relationship at all.

With Morgan, Kevin has a best friend whom he can laugh with at movies, introduce to the entirety of the
Star Wars
trilogy, and a boyfriend whom he can cuddle and kiss and admire. Even studying is fun with Morgan propped up on Kevin's bed, quizzing him on SAT words with flashcards, sticking his tongue out as he sounds out difficult words, rewarding him with kisses when he gets the definitions right.

Teaching Morgan things about human culture is fun, too, and he takes to everything enthusiastically. Now that his secret is out, Morgan has no problem asking Kevin to explain anything and everything.

They're sprawled out on Kevin's bed, headphones split between them, listening to Kevin's iPod. Morgan giggles as Kevin nods his head to the music. “We do this too,” Morgan says. “We have songs that tell stories of our people, songs for fun, songs about love.” He tilts his head, bemused, listening to the song. “They're singing incredibly fast. I can't understand what they're saying. It is fun, though.”

“Oh, I have lots of slower things. Here, listen.”

Kevin takes the iPod, switches it to his “relaxing” playlist and puts it on shuffle. The first song is Bobby Darin's “Somewhere Beyond the Sea,” and Kevin starts humming along, bumping Morgan's shoulder playfully.

Morgan listens thoughtfully, a smile on his face, bumping Kevin back. “This one is quite lovely,” he says. “The man is hopeful, waiting for his love so they can be together again.”

“Want to listen again?”

Morgan nods, and Kevin restarts the song, watching Morgan close his eyes as he listens, enraptured. Kevin wants to memorize the soft curve of his cheek, that subtle smile on his face, the freckles that dance across his nose and cheeks. It's a sweet, contented moment, and he wants to remember exactly how it is right now: one of Morgan's feet idly rubbing against Kevin's in a steady rhythm, the quiet calm of the room, the pleasant jazz music flow­ing through the shared headphones, the split cord swaying as Morgan and Kevin nod their heads to the beat.

Kevin hums along with the chorus, and then Morgan surprises him when he starts to sing in a clear, buoyant voice. “We'll meet beyond the shore…” Morgan sings. His voice seems to fill the room, resonating, warm and bright, and Kevin listens, trans­fixed, as Morgan finishes the song. If he thought Morgan's normal speaking voice was pleasant and melodious, this is on another level. It seems almost tangible, as if Kevin can feel the hope and longing in the melody touch his skin, feel the emotions seeping into him.

Kevin is silent after the song is over, and he turns off the iPod before it can play another song. “That was beautiful,” he tells Morgan.

“Thank you,” Morgan says, his cheeks flushed. “I've never—I mean, I always thought I was the worst singer in the herd. My cousin Micah says it's because I'm a halfling.”

Kevin furrows his brow.

“My father is human.” Morgan's tone is carefully light, but he's watching Kevin, as if waiting for a reaction.

“Okay.” Kevin isn't sure if this is a sensitive issue among selkies. He's reminded of the way he used to feel as a kid when his mom picked him up from school and the other students made com­ments about them not being the same race, asking if she was his evil stepmother, if she was going to give him mixed little brothers and sisters. Kevin knows there's nothing wrong with having a mixed heritage; if he had younger siblings he would love them just the same. “Well, I think you are an amazing singer. Your cousin sounds like an idiot.”

Morgan leans closer, whispering conspiratorially, “One time before he was mated, Micah was trying to impress a selkie from another herd when we were passing by a territory much farther north. He was unaccustomed to the ice versus the sand, and when he was shuffling up to say hello to her, he completely lost his balance and fell on his face.”

Kevin laughs with Morgan, imagining a smug-looking seal slipping on the ice in front of his crush.

“He's actually not that great a singer, himself,” Morgan says, visibly cheered. “Everyone knows my sister Naida has the best voice in the herd.”

Kevin thinks about the strange, magical way Morgan's voice seemed to touch his skin. “Hey, are all of you—when you sing, do you—is it like, magic?”

Morgan looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you know how… Okay, so humans have lots of stories of how mermaids sing, like, these magical songs to lure sailors to their deaths.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, some selkies have stories of how humans roll around in the mud all day long, but obviously that isn't true.”

Kevin colors in embarrassment. “I didn't know. Well, you're obviously supernatural; I just didn't know if there were other types of… I dunno.” He shrugs awkwardly, picking at the slightly pilled duvet cover. It sucks when people ask questions based only on stories about your culture. Miles once came for dinner, and brought his own fork out at the table and smiled at the Luongs as if he should be patted on the back for assuming they wouldn't have forks.

“Stop being so sensitive. I just wanted to make sure I could eat,” Miles said during the ensuing fight. That was dumb too, that Kevin had to explain why he was mad.

Kevin takes a deep breath and lets go of the blanket.
I should have thought before I blurted out that dumb mermaid comment.
“I'm sorry,” Kevin says, reaching out to Morgan.

Morgan takes his hand and strokes his thumb slowly across the back of his hand. “It is all right. I know why you would have thought so.”

Morgan starts singing again, and this time it's not in any lan­guage Kevin understands. The words have a haunting lilt, echoing in the room. It's beautiful, and again Kevin can
feel
the music touching his skin, and he feels filled with sorrow in a way he can't explain.

The song finishes with a soft note that hangs in the air, and Morgan gives Kevin a sad little smile. The despondent feel­ing passes, and Kevin knows he doesn't need to cry, even though he can feel the tears pricking at his eyes. “What was that?” Kevin asks, his voice caught in his throat.

“That was the story of Danilae. She lived many, many years ago. She was not a selkie, but a merrow. Distant cousins of ours.” He speaks slowly and evenly, as if he is used to the cadence of storytelling. “Danilae loved a human, a merchant sailor, who often sailed through the treacherous waters near the cove where she lived. They met on the cove when he could steal time away from his busy route, but it was not often. Then there was a terrible storm, one that smashed his boat to smithereens.”

Kevin squeezes Morgan's hand, watching the way Morgan's face tightens with an old sorrow. Kevin's sure from the tone of the song this story isn't going to end well. Morgan squeezes back and continues with his story.

“Danilae was injured, struck by a piece of driftwood that gored her tail, and she could not swim to help him. Cast off the boat, desperately trying to swim to safety, her lover was unable to see through the storm. Danilae sang to him in hope of guiding him to shore, but it was to no avail.”

Kevin's face falls. “Oh no. Did they…”

Morgan looks away. “They both died that day. I'm fairly certain this is the tale that inspired the one you know about mermaids, as you call them. The way my mother tells the story—she's quitegood at it—it takes a few hours, and by the end everyone is crying.” He shakes his head. “I'm certain that a number of sailors on that boat survived to tell the tale of the music they heard, and the bewitching creature that sang as their captain drowned. Tales get exaggerated as they are passed down from generation to generation. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you know of the story. Merrows are a solitary bunch; I've never met one, and, as my mother tells me, they've been hunted nearly to extinction.”

“Hunted? You mean there are people who deliberately go out to—”

“Yes. I don't know how persistent it still is, but there are still zealous groups of hunters. We've always been taught to be careful of them. My older sister spent a year on land trying to locate the dangerous ones and to learn more about them, after members of other herds went missing. One selkie managed to escape, but he told a terrifying tale of a group that held him captive, attempting to study him. I think they were planning to kill him eventually, cut him open to find out how his magic worked.”

Kevin curls protectively around Morgan, holding him tight. He can tell Morgan's trying to talk calmly, to convince Kevin, or himself, that this doesn't scare him at all, but Kevin can see it's more than a bit unnerving. “Hey. It'll be okay. I'm not ever going to tell anyone about you. You'll be safe.”

He kisses Morgan on the forehead. Morgan closes his eyes, sighs and lets Kevin pull him close.

“Hey, I've got an idea—have you ever heard of a blanket fort?”

Morgan shakes his head, and Kevin lights up. “This is going to be great. Come on.”

He gets off the bed, motioning for Morgan to join him. Kevin grabs the spare blankets from his closet and the nylon rope he has for this very purpose. Morgan is helpful, paying attention to Kevin's instructions. The rope is tied between various curtain rods and the closet door, and then blankets are thrown over it until they have a tent-like structure.

“And the final touch,” Kevin says, grabbing the coil of old Christmas tree lights from his closet. He strings it along the interior of the blanket fort, then plugs it in.

Kevin holds the flap of blanket open for Morgan, gives him a little bow and says, “After you.” Morgan grins, climbs inside and then gasps.