"I can't," I say.
Carrick smiles, undaunted as ever.
"You won't," he says.
It takes all my will to continue holding Carrick's gaze with my own. Looking away from Carrick now would be admitting weakness and I refuse to give him anything more to
use against me. The sun's reflection dances on the water of the bay like a million tiny pixies at dawn, but that is only the periphery. The focus of my reality is the blue-green depths of Carrick's eyes. A girl could drown appeased in those depths.
"You don't understand, Carrick, I can't go with you today or any day," I say.
"I understand perfectly. You think your responsibilities in this world are excuse enough to sacrifice your happiness. It's okay to be selfish. You always take care of everyone else; let me take care of you for a change," he says.
"You aren't listening to me," I say.
"Hear me out," he says, interrupting me, "It doesn't have to be forever. I'm not asking for forever, I wouldn't put you in that position. I wouldn't ask that of you, to give anything up, you've given so much. I want to be the one to give you something back. All I'm asking for is one whole day, sunrise to sunset. Give it a chance. Give me a chance. Give me a twenty-four hour leap of faith. At the end of said time I will return you to this very spot. No expectations. You have my word." Carrick gives emphasis to his vow with a small
yet noble lowering of his head.
As tempting as Carrick is, it isn't that simple, not for me. He has nothing to lose. I have everything. Anything is possible to someone who has no one or nothing to anchor them down. That's not who I am anymore. Carrick is oblivious of this. He refuses to see me as I am now. To him I will forever be the sweetheart I was when we were children. In his eyes I am unchanged, just what he needs me to be, when he needs me to be it.
"You were right the first time, I won't," I say.
Carrick is in a good mood today, nothing I can say seems to deter him. He glides nearer and reaches out but I pull my legs up tight until my chin rests on my knees and I wrap my arms around my legs as if to shield myself better. If the water from his hand touches my skin I know it will be over. I will be pulled down into the watery abyss that is Carrick's love. There is no coming back from something like that a second time. I was lucky once. I won't wager what I worked so hard for on something I know will break everything about me. I can't. It's not about me anymore.
My gesture does not go unnoticed. I can see the groove between Carrick's eyebrows deepen as he lowers his hand
beneath the water. He arches his back and floats with his face turned to the sun.
"You can't tell me you haven't thought about it, Morgana," he says still floating, "Allow yourself this one small thing. Come with me. Trust me. Forget all this for one whole day and I will remind you where you come from, who you were, who you still can be. Then I will bring you back, as promised, my word is yours. What's mine is yours, forever."
I have to close my eyes. The motion of the water that surrounds Carrick is making me seasick. What he is offering is what I came here looking for, what I always seek when I come here looking for him: respite. A short time away from my life to be someone else for a while. I hear absence makes the heart grow fonder. It makes one appreciate what they have better. People do it all the time. Vacations. Mini-escapes. A reprieve. My need for this runs so dark and deep, it aches.
His voice is closer now. I keep my eyes closed. I try to straighten my shoulders. I know how he reads every gesture. I know he can see me weakening, he must or he wouldn't be running his hand up my leg right now. My knees have turned to water.
"Will you come?" he asks.
I want to. I really want to. The liquefying sensation is wriggling its way from my knees up my thighs and it takes everything I have to visualize and focus my sheer force of will holding every molecule that is me together.
"No," I say.
My eyes are wide open when I answer him. I realize I have kicked him away but I can see it's the sting of my single word, red on his face, that hurts him more. He has pulled back his hand as if he touched something painful. His eyes blink. I want to go to him, soothe him, but I don't.
"I see you aren't used to not getting what you want," I say, a little too coldly. I can't take it back now.
"Oh, Princess, you know best just how often I don't get what I want," he says.
It's my turn to blink. Apparently his words can sting as well as my own.
I have nothing more to say.
Carrick continues, "Have you not been the object of my affections for an eternity, Morgana? No impossibility has defused my love for you. You run, I will find you. You go so far as to change your appearance, but I can still see you. I would know you anywhere. You can't disappear; you can't blend in with the likes of lesser creatures. What have you left to test the boundaries of my loyalty for you? It has always been you."
"I'm so sorry," I say.
The groove between Carrick's eyebrows has returned deeper than before. The skies seem to have darkened some. How long have we been the only ones on the beach? This is what happens when you spend time with Carrick, things get lost, time gets wasted, so too can a girl, lost and wasted.
"I don't want your apologies," Carrick says.
"No, what you want is something I can no longer give. You had your chance. You made your choices. I've made my own. I'm not going back now. Too many things have happened in the between, things I would not change for this world or any other. I have no regrets. I wish sometimes that I could have the best of both worlds but everyone knows how that story ends," I say.
"How?" he asks.
"You know perfectly well," I say.
"Do I? Who says?" Carrick asks.
I throw my hands up in frustration.
"I mean it," Carrick continues with new-found enthusiasm, "Who's to say what is right and what is wrong? Who are we giving power to? I have no care of what anyone thinks, save you, of course. So you tell me. How does the story end? I really want to know. Tell me, Morgana, how does our story end?"
He smiles at me, taunting and playful and full of defiant love. It is the smile he reserves for me alone. In the presence of Carrick I feel as though I am the only desirable girl in the world.
Sometimes that is a lonely place.
"Don't," I say.
He persists.
"If I can't have the heroine of the fairy tale, can I at least have the tale?" he asks.
The silver watch on my wrist glints with the reflection of the setting sun on its abalone face. Time enough for one short story. I can't send him away empty handed. I owe him that much. It will be the last one. I don't really need to come here to him anymore; it's just an old habit.
This will be the last time. If I give a little of what he wants now he can leave satisfied. We can leave on good terms. No more fighting. No bad feelings. I will let him swim in my story for a small time and he will leave happy, my Peter Pan.
"Once upon a time," I begin.
I can hear the water of the bay lapping up against the rock we occupy; it laps to the rhythm of my words. Carrick lies half in and half out of the water, the flat of his belly on the rock below me, his tail end floating just below sight.
As I spin my tale of an everyday girl with enchanted glass slippers and no feet, I can see my own spell taking hold of him, softening him. By the time I get to the part where the sea witch is taking the girl's voice as payment for wishes granted, Carrick's hold on me softens as well. In the story I can tell him what he wants to hear, tales of impossible love overcoming impossible obstacles, the hero getting the girl, the mermaid returning to the sea. He will only hear what he chooses to hear anyway.
When I get to the end I'll leave out the bits of sorrow and pain; he has no use of those things where he lives. It is beyond him to understand that there are some things even bigger than the sea.
