This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Of all the places along the coast, the bridge to Stuart has always been my favorite drive. I used to press my face up to the glass as a young child, watch the boats coming into the harbor, and the families lined up at the docks ready to head out to the ocean for the day.
“You don’t want to go out there,” my mother would tell me, shaking her head at my curiosity for the world beyond the surface. “The ocean is a dangerous place.”
Despite her constantly reminding me of her fears of the ocean, I found ways to get around the water. In fourth grade, my best friend, Adam, took me down to his father’s tiki bar every single day after school. We’d sit at a table in the corner of the restaurant overlooking the harbor and do homework. Adam usually did more than I did, while I sat and admired the waves and the fish that surfaced every so often.
Then in seventh grade, I joined the swim team. I was by far the best, but didn’t like being in the spotlight. I just loved being in the water. Any excuse I could use to get into the water, I used. My coach saw my potential and signed me up for nearly every race, and then got me into diving. Mom was proud, and mostly happy because at least on the swim team, I spent the majority of my time in the pool, not the vast Atlantic Ocean.
Unfortunately, sometime after starting high school, I started to get allergic reactions to the pool water and the chlorine. The doctors thought it was the strangest thing, because if I was really allergic to the chlorine, it should have been noticeable ages ago, apparently. All I knew, sadly, was that my swimming career was over.
“You’ll be grateful that you took the time to focus on other things aside from sports, darling,” Mom told me as she stirred her coffee one morning. Then she gave me a look of relief that also told me she was pleased with my newfound allergy. “Now you can figure out what you want to do in the future.”
At fifteen, since quitting the swim team, Adam and I were able to spend more time at the harbor, sitting there doing homework, until one afternoon we got a worthy proposition: to learn how to drive one of his father’s fishing boats.
“It’s about time you kids learn how to drive,” Mr. Homestead explained as he tossed a set of boat keys to Adam, who looked like he was about to wet himself out of fear. I squinted at Mr. Homestead.
“Is it like driving a car?” I asked. Mr. Homestead shook his head, turning back to us with a smirk.
“Not really. You’ll see,” Mr. Homestead had told us, before he proceeded to show us how to drive a boat. We managed to get our licenses and soon, all the afternoons spent daydreaming about the water turned into actually being out on the water, in our own boat.
We had parameters, of course. No going more than a mile beyond the harbor and if you can’t see the shoreline, turn around. I didn’t have the heart to tell my mother about this. I honored her no-swimming-in-the-ocean rule to put her mind at ease, but I knew she’d flip if she found out what Adam and I were getting up to these days.
“Where shall we go today?” Adam asked as he snatched up the keys. I shrugged.
“To the inlet?” Adam smiled. It was our usual place. We’d set up camp right inside the inlet, sit on the water, and do our homework and chat. He nodded, sitting down and turning on the engine to the boat.
“Yeah, why not,” Adam agreed. I plopped myself down in the chair next to him, watching as we pulled out of the harbor with ease. I could still remember the days when we barely made it out of the harbor without hitting something. Now look at us: we were driving a boat, and we didn’t even have adult supervision. That was a win.
Adam and I turned into the giant harbor, looking out over the horizon. The vast ocean was so inviting, every single time that I was out here. It’s like it was begging me to go out further, to journey beyond where we usually went. The intrigue twisted my insides and I felt butterflies in my stomach. Adam glanced over at me.
“Andie, what are you thinking?”
“Adam,” I started, thinking out loud. My eyes were glued to the world beyond the shore. “Let’s just go out there. Like just a little. Nothing crazy.”
“Just a little. If my father finds out we went too far–”
“I know, trust me. If my mother finds out we are even doing this, I’m screwed,” I reminded him, turning around to see a look of understanding. He knew how crazy my mother was. He’d been there the last time she had a fit of anxiety and proceeded to go on a rant about why she was never ever going to let me study marine biology, which she discovered was my first choice for university after she opened up my mail.
Adam, instead of turning into the inlet like we usually did, continued on straight. Straight out of the harbor, and into uncharted territory. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling the salty breeze on my cheeks. I felt the thrill of doing something both desired and forbidden.
Soon, the waves grew in strength. I’d seen them when my class went on a little cruise for our science class two years ago, felt them on the giant ferry, but not on a smaller fishing boat. We hadn’t really prepared for this.
“Hold on,” Adam warned as he pointed ahead. A collection of stronger, larger waves were in sight. I held on tight to the railing, checking on Adam who held tight to the steering wheel.
We made it over the first wave, then the second, but the third one came and the boat took an angle we were not prepared for. Adam’s grip slipped, and he fell in.
“Adam!” I acted impulsively, jumping into the water. My body immediately melted upon contact with the water, like I had returned home. It felt great. I couldn’t remember the last time Mom had let me into the saltwater. It must have been at least a decade.
Opening my eyes, I swam my way to Adam. We both surfaced. He gasped for air, and I took a deep breath of fresh air.
“Come on,” I urged him, helping him with one arm under him to the boat. He was not as strong of a swimmer as I was. He barely did any sports. I was just glad that we both were okay.
Moments later, we made it to the ladder up to the boat. Letting Adam up first, I paused, feeling a warm sensation start at the tip of my toes and spread all the way up to my waist. I tried to kick it away, thinking I had just found a warm part of the water, but it wouldn’t go away. Glancing back down, I could see nothing but bubbles. Adam turned back around and offered me a hand.
“Andie, here,” Adam said to me. I grabbed his hand. My feet slipped up a little bit on the railing, but as I got out of the water more and more, the warmth disappeared and I took a deep breath, coming onto the top of the boat deck clumsily. Adam and I both stared at each other, shaking our heads.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, He nodded.
“You?”
“Yeah,” I said half-heartedly, staring back down at the water. I was alright, but confused. What was I to make of what just happened in the water?
Coming up to the ladder, I took a deep breath. Then I jumped.
Adam yelled to me, but his voice was silenced by the water rushing into my ears. Letting myself submerge into the water, I opened my eyes. The underwater world was clearer than ever before. The will to breathe disappeared, as if I no longer needed oxygen. Turning my head to the ladder, Adam remained at the top, staring down at me, waiting. If I didn’t surface soon, he would wonder if I was okay.
Then it happened. I watched down below. The warmth began at the very tips of my toes, ascending as the water began to feel like velvet around my body. Bubbles flooded the water and as they surfaced, I saw it. A reflective, kaleidoscope of scales that had appeared where my legs should have been. I gasped under water.
Coming up to the surface, I hurried to the ladder, pulling myself up to see a distraught, wide-eyed Adam.
“Did you see it? Did you see what happened?” I asked, using all my arm strength to get myself up above water. More than anything, I needed someone to validate what I had just seen. Adam would understand. He wouldn’t judge me. He wouldn’t tell a soul. We’d been friends for ages.
“Why did you do that? I was about to leap in to get you,” Adam exclaimed, hurrying to pull me onto the boat deck. I coughed, spitting up some water. Then I stumbled forward, onto two feet. My tail. It was gone. I glanced back to the water, and then down to my legs. My normal, nothing out of the ordinary human legs.
“You didn’t see it?” I asked Adam again, disappointed. Was I going crazy? Adam wrapped a towel around me and shook his head.
“Come on, we have to get back. It’s about to rain, and my dad will kill us if we aren’t back on time.”
I didn’t protest. I sat there in silence next to Adam as he commanded the ship, driving us back towards the shore. My eyes watched the waves, wondering and plotting my next move. The next time I would have a chance to make sense and see again what had happened under the waves.
