The Girl Who Pulls the Tides - ONC 2021

chapter 15

Sunday goes like this:

Evyana and I lying on the sun-warmed sand of Pemaquid Cove, watching as pink-and-yellow-dappled clouds roam through the brilliant blue sky, trying to find animals and people within their shapes. Evyana pointing to a cloud and saying, "That one looks like a sea dragon."

Me, pointing to another one: "That looks like my English teacher."

The blazing yellow sun hanging like a lemon drop in the sky, reflecting off the ocean's surface and sparkling like billions of diamonds, so bright that we have to squint against it.

Evyana's fingertips skimming over my back, my eyes closed, as I have to guess what she's drawing. My fingertips grazing across hers.

Teaching her how to skip stones into the ocean, holding her wrist, our bodies so close.

Racing from one end of the beach to the other. Winning. Teasing Evyana, "You may be the fastest swimmer of the century, but I'm the third-fastest runner on my cross country team."

The cold, damp stone of the caves stretching out beneath our feet as we venture deeper into the hollows. Yelling "echo" and hearing a chorus yell it back to me.

My leather-bound journal, sitting forgotten at the bottom of my bag.

This is new: Evyana and I hanging out without the journal between us, without the passion project or our deal. Just two people—one a human, one a Nereid—hanging out because we want to.

"We should go swimming!" Evyana exclaims as we return to the warm sandy cove from the cool, rocky caves. "It's finally warm enough for humans to be in the water without getting cold."

I unconsciously draw back, putting space between me and the shoreline. "I don't know," I say, my voice shaking slightly.

Evyana looks at me, cocking her head to the side. "I noticed on the first day we met when you fell into the water, you were frozen. You did not swim. Then, while we spoke, you eyed the ocean with distrust. Like it had betrayed you." She pauses, waiting for me to say something. When I stay silent, she asks, "Why do you not like the ocean?"

Her expectant gaze bores into mine, and I have no clue what to say. I don't want to talk about my parents. I don't want this day to be anything but wonderful and light and bright as the sun.

But Evyana has been so open with me; she's told me about everything from her family to her faith to her pearl collection. She deserves the same truthfulness from me.

"It's a bit of a long story," I preface.

Evyana sits down on the sand and beckons me to do the same. "Tell it to me," she says.

And so I do. I tell her about my parents. Isleen Webb and Jona Miller: mom and dad. I tell her about how they met and fell in love, how they used to take me swimming at this cove, how we all would spend hours in the water, our hands wrinkled and our skin saturated with salt. I tell her about the sunny day, perfect for sailing. Their wreck. The funeral, where everyone was dressed in mourning grays and whispering things like, It must've been the Nereids. I tell her about my hesitancy to blame the Nereids.

I tell her about the nightmares I had for months after the wreck. Drowning, drowning, drowning. The ocean swallowing me up, like it did to my parents.

She listens silently through the whole story, her eyes reflecting every emotion I feel: sadness, confusion, loss. And there's another one buzzing beneath my skin, but I can't quite tell what it is.

When I'm finished, Evyana reaches up and cups my face between her palms, pulling our faces close, looking me straight in the eye. "I'm so sorry, Fionn," she says, her voice more serious and grave than it's ever been before. The press of her hands against my face, her fingers light on my temples, is comforting in a way that makes my eyes sting.

"Thank you," I whisper, a lump forming in my throat.

Her thumb traces a gentle path across my cheek. "You are angry, Fionn," she says softly.

I pull back slightly, but she doesn't let go of me. "What?" I ask, confused. "I'm not angry."

"Yes, you are. I can feel the anger festering in you. You are furious at the ocean for taking your parents from you."

I'm about to deny it again, but I stop before the words come out. Anger. I'm not an angry person. I can't hold grudges for the life of me. But I think she's right; it's anger that's humming beneath my skin, simmering in my stomach, tearing at my heart.

"I think you're right," I say.

"Anger is like fear, Fionn. It will eat away at you while you're not watching. You must let it go. You have to forgive the ocean."

"Why?" I ask, my voice wavering. "Why do I have to forgive?"

"Because I don't think the ocean killed your parents." She drops her hands from the sides of my face and glances towards the sea. "On the same day your parents disappeared—" she said disappeared, not died, "—two Nereids went missing. My aunt and her wife."

My brow furrows. "What does that mean?"

"I think the same thing that took your parents took my aunts."

I shoot up from the sand and start pacing between the shoreline and where Evyana is still seated. "Well, what took your aunts?"

She shakes her head solemnly, "We don't know. We've been looking for them ever since they disappeared. We've prayed to Ceto and the ocean and the earth itself, we've scoured the depths of the sea, and we have still come up with nothing."

My mind is racing like a tidal current, my eyesight is all blurry, and my lungs are burning. Why are my lungs burning?"

I didn't notice Evyana standing beside me until I feel her hands on my shoulders. "You're hyperventaliting, Fionn. Breathe when I breathe." She grabs my hand and places it on her chest so I can feel the up-and-down movement of her breaths. I match her inhales and exhales—in and out, back and forth, like the pulling tide—until my lungs are full and my eyesight is back to normal. It takes me a few seconds until I realize my hand is still on her chest, my palm resting over her heartbeat. I pull it back to hang at my side.

"I'm sorry," I tell her.

"For what?" She asks. "There is nothing to apologize for."

I feel suddenly exhausted, a headache forming in the space between my eyebrows. "Do you think we could ever find out what happened to them?"

She gives me a small smile. "I think you're unstoppable, Fionn. I think that the world would give up its secrets to you."

I hold her hand as we wade into the tide, cool water lapping at my ankles, the sand soft beneath my toes. We go in deeper until the water reaches our hips.

I lean my head against her shoulder.

I remember my mother leading me out into the waves while dad and Jack played catch on the beach. My hand was so small in hers. Her bathing suit was bright red, and her smile was bright white as we went deeper and deeper into the water, never wanting to return.

I forgive you, I think.