Fishes

2

The grip on Emil's ankle was vice like. His head however, was clear. He knew he was panicking as he clawed at the dock, searching for a handhold, yet his mind was perfectly calm. The water slowly enveloped him as it had one hundred times before. During his younger years as a merman, the recurring dream had paralyzed him with fear as had the actual event. Now, however, it was routine.
His brother, Lukas, had lost his face in the dream years ago, but his body remained, dashing out of the mist, too late to save Emil. This time, however, he wore a much different face. It was that of the older man he had seen on a rowboat the previous day. The encounter had been dreamlike. The moment he locked onto his deep blue eyes, he knew that this was his brother. Lukas looked nothing like he remembered. Twelve years old, he was permanently cross, had pale skin, and usually tied back his shaggy hair for lack of the money to get it cut. Today, the lines of his face were softer and more numerous, his hair was short, and he had acquired a light tan.
And so Emil was shaken awake by a racing heart. It was not, as it used to be, out of panic, but rather out of unease. He hated how old Lukas had become. He had added up forty years the previous night.
He sighed, mind trying to wrap itself around the questions and fears that stewed, multiplying insidiously, in his thoughts. He longed to meet him again. A conversation, however, would be an anxious disaster. As children, they had considered merpeople monsters. Lukas had undoubtedly retained such a mentality, having lost Emil to them. How much had he changed? Would his brother be comfortable with Emil's own changes? Had the world gotten better? What did Emil need to learn and re-learn?
He twisted out from under his blankets and swam through the kitchen and out of his apartment into the cold open water. (The university he was studying at had let him take an unused dormitory free of charge.) Across the street was the house of Francis Bonnefoy, and, more importantly, Francis' little sister Michelle.
Emil and Michelle had been dating for nearly a year. Having grown up as her best friend, he considered her the only person around whom he could truly be himself.
He dove down towards her window, and rapped on the glass. The gauzy curtains that Francis had installed on her window to mimic human fashion were drawn. Beyond the glass, she lay awake in her bed. Hearing him tap, she looked up to see him. Tired though they were, her wide eyes were youthful and bright. She flashed him a shy smile, and went to slide open the window.
"Do come in!" Michelle said, taking his hand and pulling him through. Emil sank to the floor with a short laugh. Her room was dark, save for a bioluminescent jellyfish in a cage, Michelle's pet.
"Is it too late to talk?" Emil asked, swimming over to sit on the lip of her bed, which was in the shape of a giant clamshell.
"Nope." She rubbed her eyes and joined him.
His eyes fell on the gently moonlit waters outside of her window. "I met my brother again for the first time in twenty-eight years," he said.
Her jaw dropped. "Wow!" she said, bringing her hands together, "What was he like?"
The image of Lukas' bemused expression, the sun casting his face in shadow, came to the front of Emil's mind. "Old," he confessed. "He looked tired."
"That would make sense," Michelle said, "Humans don't live half as long as we do. You'd be old by now, too, if you hadn't been..." She paused. "But you're still a kid, just like me!" She looked down at her lap. "The university wouldn't let you in if they knew you were only thirty-three. Heh, baby."
"It's not my fault," he said, rolling his eyes. "But anyway, there's something I have to tell you. And you're not going to like it."
Her expression faded to apprehension. "What?"
He swallowed. "I'm going to look for him tomorrow. And the day after that, if I don't find him. If he wants me back, which I know he does, I'm going. I'm sure Francis would be willing to turn me human again for family's sake. Now that I know Lukas is out there and willing to live with me again, I mean."
Michelle was silent. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'd do the same thing if I were you. You probably don't feel right as a merman anyway." She folded her hands. "But promise you'll still see me. I can come up onto the dock, breathe some air for a bit. We can pick a time to go regularly depending on how far away Lukas lives."
"Of course," he said, running a hand through her hair.
"You're kind of the only friend I've ever had."
He pulled Michelle's hand free to give it a soft kiss. "I love you," he whispered, "please don't forget it."
She smiled. "Why don't you act so nice to everybody else, too?"
Emil wanted to reply, "I'm perfectly nice," perhaps roll his eyes or stick out his tongue, but now was not the time.
"You're special," he said softly.
They sat in silence for a while. Michelle's eyelids began to droop; her head on Emil's shoulder grew heavier. When she appeared to be asleep, he slipped out from under her head and lay her gently down on the bed. Emil cuddled up next to her, not caring much for swimming back across the street. He caught a few glimpses of her silhouette against the mingling pale moonlight and phosphorescent purple glow before drifting off to sleep.