A Merman's Tale

Fates: Chapter Thirty

Margaret

      I stared at him as my thoughts were brought back to all those mystical nights where I saw him smiling at me, beckoning me to come to him. It was difficult for me to tell him of my dreams not because it was embarrassing but because I was afraid.

      I feared of its truth.

      I feared of what I would do if it was really true.

      And I feared that he might mean more to me than just a mystery.

      I blinked. No. What could I have been thinking? He’s a friend of Grampa’s. That’s all there is to it. But then, was it really that simple?

      “…merman,” his voice penetrated through my muddled thoughts.

      It made me a bit disoriented and I stared blankly at him before I could summon a croaking, “What?”

      “I am a merman.”

      His face looked pained yet impatient at the same time, as if he hadn’t wanted to repeat what he just said. And then his words clicked. I am a merman. My eyes wandered toward his, slowly widening in confusion and surprise. I sat there frozen for as long as…I had no idea.

      I am a merman.

      I am a merman.

      I am a merman.

      His voice kept ringing and ringing until I felt a headache coming on. He was staring back at me, his breath held back and I knew that he was waiting for me to say something.

      He’s a merman.

      If that wasn’t the most ridiculous—

      “Pfft.” And then my shoulders began shaking.

      “Margaret?”

      I had no idea what came over me but when I thought of how outrageous his statement was, mirth bubbled in my throat and escaped my lips. I laughed and laughed and laughed until I thought my chest was going to explode. I caught a glimpse of his face—furrowed brows and pursed lips. He most likely didn’t find the same kind of hilarity that I did and my laughter slowly began to wound down. Although not completely.

      “You know, I don’t think I can ever understand the way your sense of humor works but that one was easy,” I told him in between smirks.

      “I’m not joking, Margaret.”

      His fists were clenched quite tightly and there was urgency in the hard glint of his eyes. I still felt like laughing at his absurd declaration but his intense expression was enough to persuade me to try to sober down. I grinned at him, the kind where my eyes twinkled in amusement and all of my teeth showed.

      Maybe sometime soon, he would finish his joke.

      So I waited.

      But the ending to his unbelievably funny story never came. Instead, he looked serious.

      Very serious.

      Every bit of amusement evaporated from my face. I stood, went to the window and stared at the blurred picture of drenched roofs and wet streets. The rain had stopped its harsh beating and started falling in a spray of water droplets.

      “You are not a merman,” I told him as forcefully as I could. Or maybe I told myself, I didn’t know.

      “Marge—”