Epigraph
"He feels himself buried in those two infinities, the ocean and the sky, at one and the same time: the one is a tomb; the other is a shroud."
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
Sable plucked a gauzy, white dish cloth from the kitchen drawer and draped it around her face. Her son, Finn, watched her from outside and waved. His mother always played this ghostly game around the house. She tied a white flour sack around her head and would breathe deeply.
She walked around their small California bungalow like a lost, warm wraith.
Monterey Bay sparkled in the windows. Occasionally, buoyant otters cracked shellfish on their wet, furry bellies.
Finn grew bored with his search for black beetles in the garden and headed inside for a snack. He wolfed down two giant marshmallows; hoping his mother wouldn't catch him. Soft, Rothko squares of sunshine glowed in the hallway as Finn and Sable puttered around on a lazy, Sunday morning. The sound of running bath water made Finn look up from his comic book for a moment.
As lunch rolled around, his belly rumbled. He crawled along the hallway; meowing like a hungry kitten. His mom liked when he did that around the house. He heard the water stop and start again. It had switched from the bath to the shower head.
Finn crept quietly into the bathroom so his mother would not hear him. They still played hide and seek even though he was almost 7 years old now. A black shower curtain dotted with golden triangles hid Sable's shadow. Finn grabbed the bottom of the curtain and flung it back with the flair of a cocky magician. But he used too much force and the whole curtain rod crashed down. His mother stood fully clothed and soaked. She screamed like a melting witch; the shroud still stuck to her face like a freshly bandaged burn victim. Finn's big eyes filled with fear. He screamed as if to add a higher octave to his mother's wailing. The layers of sound punctuated the fresh California air with such force that a flock of Cedar Waxwings startled from a nearby tree.
Sobbing in his room, Finn hid inside his favorite striped pup tent. His mother knew better than to comfort him so quickly. Instead, she changed and dried herself off. She removed the wet dishcloth but found another folded one in the drawer. Sable looked for her plain, tan leather tote and shoved the white dishcloth into a side pocket. She checked her wallet for a plastic membership card to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Almost expired, but still good.
The single mother opened up her oval medicine cabinet to find bottles of Klonopin and Lithium unopened. She lingered in the mirror to open and close the side mirror. The infinitesimal picture of a picture of a picture made her happy. She always wanted to crawl into that mirrored tunnel of the unknowable.
Searching through her messy closet, she finally found her favorite linen, A-line dress. A gift from Ray, her ex-husband. Better known as "The Bastard."
So much for fidelity.
She sighed and tucked a small piece of paper into her dress pocket.
Finn's cries were muffled but still strong and steady. She had to make it up to him. Somehow. But would she ever be enough for him? She longed for someone to rescue him. Such a sensitive little creature drifting through life with an unfit mother as the reluctant anchor.
After a deep, cleansing breath, she entered his room and began to speak in the most delicate terms.
"Sugar bunny, guess where mama's taking you today?" She coaxed him in a sing-song voice, soothing and playful.
"No!"
"Oh, come on honey. I was just playing around. I'm sorry I scared you so much. It's just a game and I went too far this time. I'm very sorry...please?"
"Why did you do that? You knew you were gonna scare me. I hate you."
Sable left the room and after a minute, Finn poked his head out of the tent. He was still hungry and he heard the refrigerator door open with a distinctive swish.
"Do you want a birthday cake yogurt?!" Sable sang, knowing the answer could only be a definitive yes.
Finn swiped a tear from his pale cheek and hugged his mother for a few seconds longer than usual. In those soft, invisible seconds, she knew she had been forgiven.
Inside the loud, boisterous exhibitions at the museum, Sable stayed back while Finn gawked at a pool of scalloped hammerhead sharks. She twisted the small paper in her pocket like a ring around her finger. Up a small flight of stairs, Finn ran into a classmate named Nathan. They called him "Double Trouble" at school. Sable always laughed about that and she smiled as she hugged his mother.
"Evie! Perfect timing, we were just about to go see the Moon Jellyfish. Have you gone yet?"
"No, but Nathan wants to get a drink first. Can we meet you there?"
"I'm thirsty too, Mom. Can I go with Nathan?"
Sable stared up at the white jellyfish floating on the next level of the aquarium and seemed preoccupied.
"Sable?"
"Helllooooooooo, Maaaaaaaaama." Finn whined and shook her arm. She nodded and kissed Finn on the nose.
"I love you, bunny. I'm always gonna love you."
"Yeah, yeah. I know."
Upstairs, Sable absorbed the wondrous sight of so many heartless, brainless jellyfish just floating in the ether of life. So peaceful and completely content. She blinked back warm tears as ribbons of gelatinous seaweed seemed to invite her inside. An aquarium attendant left a side door ajar. A spiral steel staircase allowed divers to jump in and maintain the tanks and feed the fish.
Sable walked up the steps. No alarms went off. Only the echoes of her bag as it hit the last step.
The tops of the jellyfish looked like milky little ghosts. Sable took off her shoes and placed them neatly on top of her bag and tied the dishcloth around her head again. She jumped feet first into the tepid, jellyfish infested water.
The crush of water filled her ears with gurgling, desperate whispers. She gasped for air as she sank deep into the giant blue tank. Jellyfish bubbled around her; tender and effervescent. Spectators inhaled sharply at the unexpected exhibition. Sable closed her eyes as the shroud unraveled around her. At last, she felt the flutter of jellyfish filaments across her eyelids.
A slip of fortune cookie paper floated from her puckered, young fingertips.
It whispered, "Float like a cloud, soft and spineless."
