The Mermaid's Secret (24 page)

“You went totally ballistic on me.”

“You must have thought he was breaking in,” Matthew says. I search Matthew's face for a clue. His eyebrows are furrowed and I can't read his expression. Is it disgust? Horror?

“I lost my key.” Spencer says, rocking on the floor. “Sammy wasn't answering her phone, so I came in through the window. I've done it a million times.”

“I'm sorry,” I say, wrapping my arms across my chest.

Matthew helps Spencer sit up.

“Thanks, bro.”

Together, Sammy and Matthew get Spencer to the couch. Sammy finds a pack of frozen peas in the freezer and covers Spencer's eye with it.

“Dude. Jess,” Spencer says. “You been taking steroids or something?” He looks at Matthew. “She's really strong. Like freaky strong, bro. I felt like I had a linebacker holding me down.”

“I'm sorry, Spencer. I'm so sorry. I was asleep. I heard noises.”

“You're like the female version of the Hulk, man. You're like a jacked pro wrestler.” Blood seeps from Spencer's nose.

Sammy comes back from the bathroom with a first aid kit and rifles through it. “There's no fucking Band-Aids in this stupid thing.” She dumps the contents on the floor and starts patching Spencer back together with gauze pads and Neosporin.

Matthew is helping Sammy with the first aid kit, and all I can do is keep apologizing to Spencer.

Sammy's face is twisted in a knot when she looks up at me. She's angry at me, but it's more than anger. She's worried.

“You have to stop it, Jess,” Sammy says. Her cheeks are wet with tears.

“I felt threatened. I reacted,” I say. “It's natural.”

“You're not an animal! You've got to stop going out there. It's turning you into something you're not.”

“Sammy, please. Don't say any more,” I plead.

Spencer chimes in. “Don't worry about it. I was about to turn it around on her. She was getting tired. It's the whole cop's daughter thing, right? Yeah. That's it. You've got that killer attack instinct cops have. Ow, my ribs.”

“You're turning into a monster,” Sammy says.

Matthew looks at me, waiting for me to say something to set this straight, but I don't. He speaks for me. “I think she heard noises and thought someone was breaking in.”

“Spencer wasn't breaking in. He's here all the time!” Sammy yells.

Spencer's lying on the couch half moaning, half laughing. “She's got some power behind those punches.”

“Lie still.” Sammy dabs his lip with peroxide.

“Oo-w-ww.” Spencer brushes her hand away. “Dudes, listen. No one can know that I was tossed by a girl. They'll never let me live it down. The story is I fell down the stairs. Got it?”

“She almost killed you,” Sammy says.

“Give me a break. She was getting tired.” Spencer starts laughing hysterically.

“At least he might be drunk enough to kill some of the pain,” Matthew says.

Sammy won't look at me. I've never seen her so pissed off. I have to hand it to her, though—as angry as she is, she's not giving up my mermaid secret. She mumbles about how I've crossed the line, how I have to give it up, how I'm out of control. But nothing about my magical double life.

Matthew, ever the gentleman, offers to run to the pharmacy to pick up some Advil and bandages.

“Why don't you come with me?” he says.

*   *   *

It's still pouring out and we're in the parking lot of the pharmacy. Matthew's fingers rest on the key in the ignition, but it doesn't move. The windows of the truck fog over from the inside as we sit there, waiting for the words that need to be said. An employee in a red vest smokes a cigarette under the eaves of the pharmacy, blowing rings at the
LET'S QUIT TOGETHER
and
OPEN
24
HOURS
neon signs.

“I ruined everything, didn't I?” I say.

Matthew stares straight ahead, every exhale audible through the patter of rain. He looks at the truck parked next to us, with a dreamcatcher dangling from the rearview mirror.

“I'm worried about you,” he says.

The night comes back to me in delicious flashes. Lobsterfest. The way Matthew's eyes looked even bluer in the mottled sky. Trip Sinclair on the microphone. The rage inside of me. The sky turning gray. The downpour. Matthew and I kissing in the rain, the water washing over us. More kissing in the truck. Inviting him back to my place. The tender way he stood outside my door as I fumbled with the keys, telling me he didn't want to rush anything. Me, pulling him inside.

Tossing off our wet, muddy clothes in a corner and taking a hot shower together. Surrounded by steam. Matthew telling me I'm beautiful, telling me that he loves me. Going back into my bedroom.

Making love.

Hearing the words “I love you.”

Realizing that I'm in love with him, too. Ever since I can remember, I've always wondered how people know they're in love. What mysterious force compels two people to utter those words to each other? Is it something you just say to make the other person feel good about themselves? Does it just happen casually over time? I've wondered, and now I know.

It's like how a baby discovers gravity. It's something that's been there right along, but finally they trust it. It's ten years of friendship condensed into a single moment. I knew it in my heart, my mind, and my body, all at once.

Now the distance between us is like the Mariana Trench. Matthew twists his beard. Rain thrums on the roof of the truck, filling the silence.

“It was an accident. I heard a noise. I reacted. I didn't mean to hurt him.”

“That was a big reaction.”

Rain coats the windshield, blurring the world outside.

I choke back a tear. “It must have been the adrenaline. Please don't make a big deal out of it.” His truck smells like WD-40 and metal tools. Maps of Texas and Florida are stuffed in the side pocket of the door. I think about him leaving at the end of the season, heading south. I think about me leaving through that barrel, never coming back. And wondering how in the world I can convince him to come with me.

“You know how you asked me why I keep coming back to Ne'Hwas?” he says.

“Why
do
you keep coming back?”

“Because of you.”

I inhale so deeply that I might suffocate all the living things around me.

He continues, “I don't want to be stuck on this island forever. I don't want to depend on ferries from the mainland. I want a life as deep as the ocean. Fathomless. And every time I'm down south, thinking of what I want my life to be, you're always in it.” He looks into my eyes. “You're the reason I keep coming back, Creary.”

I lean toward him, but he doesn't move toward me. He turns away.

“But what I saw back there was not the girl I know. First you attack Trip Sinclair. Then you almost kill Spencer. What's going on with you?”

I hiccup. “It's hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

“I just … I'm going through some changes.”

“I've seen behavior like that before.” He puts both hands on the wheel, the tension in his shoulders visible.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you using?”

“Using what?”

“Drugs.”

“No,” I say indignantly. “Of course not.”

“No meth? Heroin? Crack?”

“No!”

“Because I've seen how aggressive meth heads can get. How unpredictable they are. My mother was pretty … unstable at the end. There were users who came around the house, looking for a score.” His voice is strained. His eyes are watery. “I had to step in a few times. With guys much bigger than me. They had that same sort of look in their eye that you had. Disconnected from reality. My mother had that look, too. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have someone you love with all your heart disconnect from the world around her?”

“I swear I'm not using.” I cry.

He cries, too. “I wish I could believe you.”

“Matthew, I'm sorry that you had to go through that with your mother, but it's not like that with me.”

“I can't be around that again. Not ever.”

“I swear to you, it's not drugs,” I whimper. I look at my legs, at the chiseled lines of muscle that have formed over the past few weeks.

“What, then?”

I take a deep breath of air, wishing it were water. Wishing I could be swimming through the ocean with Matthew beside me, where the past can't hurt us anymore.

“I need to show you,” I say. “Will you come surfing with me?”

 

T
WENTY-ONE

The next day, Matthew and I load our boards into the back of his pickup. His is black from years of dust and neglect. Once upon a time it was a hot fish board that ripped; now it looks like it's held together with spit and wax. I hope he's not as rusty as his board.

As we head across from the lee to the windward side of the island, the wind whips the road, flattening the dune grass and bouncing our boards around. It's a strong onshore wind, which means waves will be steep and will close out fast.

I can feel his anxiety in small pulses down my spine.

“It'll be fine,” I say, trying to sound confident, but when we pull into the main lot at Nipon Beach, I'm not so sure. Waves break in random peaks in every direction. Wind shears off the tops of the big rollers, sending spray into the sky. Crashing waves echo like a drum across the beach. I can sense his apprehension.

“Can't you just show me what you have to show me?” Matthew asks.

“It's out there,” I say, pointing to the water.

“I don't know, Creary. Looks a little too rough.”

“You can do it. You can surf this.”

He shakes his head. “I know my limits.”

The wind drowns out our voices. I look out at the surf. Waves like this are tough even for someone who's in fantastic surfing shape, not to mention for a guy who sits behind the wheel of a boat all day.

“You'll have to show me another time,” he says.

“I can't,” I yell over the wind. “We're running out of time. You need to see it today so you can decide for yourself.”

“Decide what? What is with all the mystery? Just tell me what it is.”

“I promise, you'll understand everything once we're out there.” If only I can get Matthew inside that barrel and transport him to the other side, let him feel what it's like to swim like a dolphin, to experience the majesty of it, he'll have to come with me.

He twists his beard. “I'm not the surfer I used to be, and I'm not half the surfer you are. Those are big waves.”

“I'll help you.”

“I don't think so,” his voice rises over the wind.

Fine. If he won't come with me, he's going to have to watch me. “Then just wait for me on the beach at Tutatquin Point.”

“You're really going to surf? And you say you're not on crack.”

That makes me smile. “I can handle this.”

“Now you're just getting cocky.”

We look out at the surf. There's only one brave soul hitting the waves today. Freddie Collins catches an ugly wave that breaks in both directions. He does a hard bottom turn, cuts up to the lip, and jumps the whitewash. It's a subtle move but it buys him an extra few seconds of standing time. The next wave breaks behind him and he gets raked over. His rides the whitewash on his belly all the way in.

He un-Velcros his leash, tucks his board under his arm, and runs over to us. “I'm glad you're here.” There's a look in his eye you don't often see in a waterman like him. Fear.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I tried to stop him,” Freddie says, out of breath, the wind blowing droplets of water off his hair. “It's heavy out there, man. Not a day to try something stupid.”

“You tried to stop who?”

“Jay.”

My eyes search the waves, but no other surfers are out.

Freddie points. “There.”

“Tutatquin Point?” Matthew asks.

“He says he saw you catch a barrel there, Jess. Swears you disappeared in the wave. He saw you go under and didn't see you surface. Thought you were dead. Then you showed up the next day without a scratch on you. I told him he must have seen a seal or a cormorant.”

“Oh, no.” My heart races.

“I tried to stop him,” Freddie says. “He was half crazed. Couldn't stand the fact that you discovered virgin territory. He knows every break on the island.”

“He can't surf there!” I can feel the blood rush to my head. I feel protective of my secret portal. And Jay Delgado! Ugh. Of all the people to share that magical world with.

“That's what I told him. Even on a good day, he'd never make it past the boneyard,” Freddie says.

I squint over at Tutatquin Point, searching the unrelenting crash of waves for Jay.

Matthew pulls out his phone. “I'm going to call the harbor police. At least they can pick him up if he got swept out in a rip.”

“No. I'll get him,” I say.

Freddie and Matthew both look at me as though I just threatened to bomb the president.

“You won't make it,” Freddie says.

“I will.”

“No one's questioning your abilities, Jess, but you can't risk your own safety,” Freddie says. “We don't want to pull two bodies out of the water today.”

I put my hand over Matthew's phone. “Harbor police are on the other side of the island. Sheriff works patrol boat shifts all the time, so I know. They won't get a boat out here for at least thirty minutes. I can get him.”

“I'm coming with you, then,” Matthew says, his voice deep.

“I'll be okay.” There's a flash of understanding between us. What I'm really saying is I'll be better off on my own.

“Fine,” he says.