Beyond the Sea (30 page)

The ten minutes took forever to pass. The sight of Charles of striding into the living room was such a relief. He knelt down next to Peter, checking his pulse and breathing.

“Tell me what happened,” he said to Melia.

“I just got home and Peter came over. There was a cat outside, so we caught it and came inside and left Wolfy out. I thought the gate was closed but I guess it wasn’t because Wolfy got out and must have found the kappas so when he barked we went to find him,” Melia said that all in one breath. She paused to take in more air and continued. “I knew the tide pool wasn’t natural. Kappas like to burrow,” she shook her head, “but that doesn’t matter. It pulled me under and I thought it was trying to drown me.” She looked up at Charles, the thought clicking in her mind. “I think it was holding me back so they could get to Peter.” She frowned and forced tears from welling in her eyes. “But they ended up in the water. I really thought he was going to drown.” Charles put his hand on her shoulder. “We got away and came back. I disinfected his cuts—he got bitten and all scratched up, and I gave him pain pills and then he—”

“Pain pills?” Charles interrupted.

“Yea, the ones Edward takes for his headaches.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

Charles grinned. “Melia, you didn’t kill Peter. You drugged him.”

“I what?”

“Ed takes
one
pill. And he’s been taking them for years so I think he has a bit of a tolerance. Two pills would knock anyone out.”

“So he’s gonna be ok?”

“Yes, when he wakes up.”

“Oh!” Melia hugged Charles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Just don’t play pharmacist anymore, ok?”

“I promise, I won’t.” She wiped her eyes and stood. She got her softest pillow off her bed and a thick quilt. She tried to make Peter as comfortable as possible and fussed with the blanket until she was satisfied.

She explained everything to Charles, starting with the gwyrrd. She missed talking to him, having what Jamie told her were called ‘heart-to-heart’ talks. He always gave good advice, offered new perspectives to view things and truly listened to everything Melia said.

“…and Actassi will be really angry when he finds out the kappas attacked a human. I can’t imagine how they got out. He’s the best at keeping the darklings in check.”

“So, Actassi, he’s a merrow?”

“Yes. Merrows usually are the so called ‘kings’. Not to sound like I’m bragging, but merrows make good leaders. They are rational, unlike other creatures.”

Charles nodded. “Tell me more.”

Melia shrugged. “It’s politics, I guess. Each ocean has its ruler. The rules are simple: stay away from humans, keep the darklings in check and keep the peace. That’s the way we like it though, well, merrows at least.”

“But others, others don’t like it?”

“Well, I guess not. I’ve never thought about it much because that’s the way it’s always been. Merrows have ruled the ocean for centuries. We like our simple lives so no one objects.”

“Interesting,” Charles noted. The cat loudly meowed, the sound echoing downstairs.

“I better check on him,” Melia said and stood. She stopped at the couch, checked on Peter—his heart rate was a little stronger— and went upstairs. With help from Charles, the scruffy white cat was bathed and flea free. It didn’t totally object to being handled, so Melia speculated that it must have been a pet before and escaped or, more realistically, got dumped off somewhere. It was a female, and Melia named her Gwenllian, which she told Charles, was a common merrow name. She fed Gwenllian turkey and chicken lunch meat and locked her back in the bathroom.

She sat next to the couch, checking on Peter. His feet were cold. She trudged into her parent’s room and got a pair of Edward’s socks. She put them on Peter and tucked the blanket around his feet. She stroked his hair, wishing he would wake up.

“You look tired,” Charles’ voice came from behind her.

“I am,” she agreed.

“Go to bed.”

“I’m not leaving Peter.”

“I’ll sit with him for a while.”

“It’s ok. I probably won’t be able to sleep anyway.”

“Then go shower or at least change out of your wet clothes.”

“Oh, right.” Melia had forgotten her dress was wet, though it was nearly dry now. She kissed Peter and slowly went upstairs. It felt good to be clean. Melia brushed and dried her hair before putting on a night gown. She brought her comforter and the zebra Peter bought her from the zoo with her and settled next to Charles on the love seat. They stayed up chit-chatting, Melia randomly getting up to check on Peter, but fell asleep around two-thirty in the morning.

Melia woke around six AM. She could smell bacon cooking. On her way to the kitchen, she knelt next to Peter. He had moved in his sleep; his arms were hanging off the couch. His breathing wasn’t as labored and he looked like he was sleeping more than being in a drug induced coma. She kissed his lips. “I love you,” she whispered, suddenly nervous for him to wake.

“Morning,” Charles said with a smile.

“Good morning.” Melia sat at the island counter. “That smells wonderful.”

“Thanks.” He flipped the bacon. “You have your choice of bacon, omelets, waffles, fruit salad or biscuits and gravy.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’ve been up for a few hours.”

“Thank you, Charles, for staying last night.”

“Of course, Melia.”

They ate in silence. Finally, Melia spoke. “I know I owe Peter an explanation.”

Charles nodded. “Yes, he will be curious.”

“What should I say?”

“I don’t know. I think that’s something you have to decide yourself.”

“What if he’s mad? Or he hates me? Or if he thinks I’m a freak?”

“I doubt he’ll hate you.” Charles started cleaning the dishes.

“Maybe I don’t have to tell him about me. I’ll tell him about the kappas but not about me. The less he knows the better, right?”

“And then when will you tell him?”

“Never.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. I can sneak into the ocean at night, like I have been. It’s worked so far.”

“Oh, yea. Live a lie your whole life. We both know how good you are at lying.”

“Well, I can get good! And Peter hasn’t suspected anything yet!”

“He deserves to know,” Charles pressed.

Peter had quietly walked into the kitchen. “What do I deserve to know?”

Melia jumped off the stool. “Peter! I’m so sorry!” She hugged him, forgetting about the cuts on his back. He groggily put his arms around her. His brain still felt fuzzy. “I didn’t know that the pills were that strong.”

“What pills?”

Melia took his hand and led him to the counter. She pushed a plate loaded with food in front of him and poured him a glass of milk.

“The white pills I gave you yesterday. I sort of overdosed you and you passed out.”

“Oh, yea, I guess that makes sense. I don’t really remember any of that though.” He smiled at Melia and poked at his food. “Did you at least take advantage of me?”

She laughed and ran her hand over his head, moving a wave of sandy blonde hair out of his eyes. “Will it make you happy if I say yes?”

Peter nodded, eating a piece of bacon. “I’d be very disappointed if I got drugged for no reason.”

“Then yes, I did. All night.”

“Good.”

Melia sat on the edge of her stool, biting her lip. “So you don’t remember anything from last night?” she asked hopefully, casting a nervous glance at Charles.

Peter though… “I remember coming over. We found the cat and then—” He dropped the bacon. “Kappas. You said those-those
things
were kappas.” His eyes widened. “H-how?” he stammered, not knowing what to even ask.

“Well,” Charles said loudly. “I’m gonna go get some sleep. Call me if you want dinner, Melia. If I don’t hear from you…” he trailed off, looking at Peter. Melia nodded, understanding what he meant. As soon as he was out the door, Melia turned back to Peter.

“There are things, Peter, things that you’ve never seen. Things that you would only consider to exist in myths or fairytales.”

“Like the kappas?”

“Yes, just like the kappas.”

“Ok.” He nodded. “What are they?”

“They are considered darklings, which is what we call anything bad. Kappas pull people underwater, drown them and eat them.”

“Oh. And that’s what they tried to do last night?”

“Yes,” Melia said, thinking this was going better than she planned. “But we got away, of course.”

“Obviously.” Peter looked intently into Melia’s eyes. She had a hard time holding his gaze. “How do you know about them?”

“I’m…my family…Peter, what would you do if I told you I’m not like you?”

“I-I don’t know.” He shook his head. “If you’re about to tell me that you’re from a family of demon hunters or something like that, I’ve seen enough shows on TV about it to think it’s cool,” he said with a half smile.

“No, I’m not from a family of demon hunters. I-I’m the thing that they…never mind. I think I should show you.”

Melia slowly walked to the pool. Déjà vu spun in her thoughts. But this time she was nervous. Her heart hammered and she dreaded the change. She pulled her night gown off and turned to Peter. He looked her naked body up and down. “Please don’t hate me,” she whispered.

“I will never hate you,” Peter told her.

“You say that now.” Melia took Peter’s hands in hers. A tear ran down her face. Peter wiped it away and kissed her.

“Why are you crying? And why are you naked? Not that I mind, it’s just a little odd.”

Melia kissed him instead of answering and then dove into the pool. She transformed as soon as she hit the water. Peter watched, not sure what was going on.

“Peter,” Melia said when she stuck her head out of the water. “This is who I really am.”

Peter turned his head to the side, thinking it must be a trick. “How did you…” he started. Melia floated on her back, swishing her tail. He swore and backed away, bumping into a table.

“Peter!” Melia called. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go!” She shifted back to human form but it was too late. Peter was inside, searching for his keys. By the time Melia got in, Peter revved the engine and tore down the driveway. She fell to her knees, sobbing. She curled up in a little ball and let herself cry. She didn’t know how long she cried, but eventually Wolfy licked her face and encouraged her to get up.

She called Peter three times. He didn’t answer. On the fourth try, the phone went straight to voicemail. “He turned his phone off,” Melia told Wolfy, tears spilling. She wiped them away. She needed to do something. She couldn’t cry over Peter forever. This was bound to happen, and she had known it all along. Maybe it was good that it happened now. She didn’t have a real future with Peter anyway. Maybe it was good she got out now before she loved him even more.

Could she love him more? A sob escaped her and she pressed her hands over her mouth, refusing to cry anymore. She got dressed, let Wolfy out, fed Gwenllian and drove to the animal shelter. She took six dogs for long walks and came back home around noon. She had left her phone on her bed. She picked it up; her heart skipped a beat when she saw that she had two missed calls. But they were both from Jamie.

She wanted to call her best friend, but she knew if she did that she would start crying again, and she didn’t want to. She texted her instead. “Peter knows. It’s over,” was all she wrote. Jamie quickly responded, saying she was on her way.

Jamie flew up the stairs. “Melia!” she called. She found Melia on her bed, curled up under the covers. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Oh, Melia. I’m so sorry!” She wrapped her arms around her best friend. The genuine love and concern from Jamie’s embrace unlocked Melia’s feelings. She started crying again, and soon Jamie was too.

“His face was the worst, Jamie,” Melia told her. “He looked at me like I was some sort of horrible creature. It was like he was scared and disgusted all at once.”

Jamie pet Melia’s hair. “I’m sure he’s just shocked.”

“Maybe. But I lied to him.”

“What were you supposed to do? You had no choice.”

“Yes I did. We always have a choice, no matter what. But thanks for saying that.”

Melia tried to call Peter two more times that night. She felt numb imagining a life without Peter. Numb, but ok…maybe. In the end, she knew she would be. But right now it hurt so much. Jamie stayed with her. She felt so bad for Melia. She knew what it was like to be hated, mocked and ridiculed for something you couldn’t help. She’d often thought about herself in a similar situation, if she’d ever tell her boyfriend (if she ever got one) about being able to talk to the dead. But talking to the dead and turning into a mermaid were totally separate things.

Melia didn’t want to cry. She clutched her phone and the zebra, fighting back tears.

“It’s ok to cry,” Jamie told her. “Especially tonight. You’ll feel better if you get it out.”

Melia nodded. Jamie flipped through TV channels, trying to find something funny and not remotely romantic to watch. She let Wolfy out; Melia hadn’t moved in hours. After she fed Gwenllian, she opened the bedroom door to find Melia crying. Jamie got into bed next to her and put her arms around her best friend, holding her until Melia cried herself to sleep.