Cerulean Found

Chapter 29 - The End of the Road

After spending the majority of the day exploring Rumba and all the shops, Josh and I decide that we are exhausted and ready to head back to my grandparents villa before my family returns and discovers that I'm not there.

As we make our way back to where the Jeep is parked, a bright teal sign catches my eye. It's down a tiny cobble stoned side street that I hadn't seen before. The sign reads The End of the Road. It is Peggy's daughter's shop.

"Are you up for one more store?" I ask Josh. "I suppose," he answers sarcastically.

We turn down the little alley and head toward the boutique at the end of the road. It is a quiet strip of street blanketed with heavy shade from the buildings that line the way. The alley is narrow, too tight for any cars to drive down, which makes the block much quieter than the main part of town. I sense that not too many tourists venture down this darkened stretch of road. I'm not sure that I would, if I were alone.

"I've never been down here," Josh points out. "You know if you wanted to be alone with me, all you had to do was ask, Mila. You didn't need to drag me down an alley," he says sarcastically.

"Lucky for you, that's not what I want. Not right now anyways," I say playfully as I open the door to the shop.

The End of the Road is a cozy little boutique bursting with an eclectic collection of treasures in almost every nook and cranny of the space. Dark hardwood floors flank the ground and various shades of pink paint have been sponged across the walls. Two oversized lime green armchairs covered with bright patterned throw pillows and a white washed wooden coffee table stacked high with books occupy the space nearest the entry door.

A large bookshelf overflowing with different sized books and journals stands tall behind the green chairs. I walk over to the shelf and begin to examine the titles. All of the publications are about Jalukka or the surrounding islands in the Caribbean. There are books on local flora, fauna, and countless history textbooks. Guide books and cook books and books on local culture and the arts.

I bend down and discover that the bottom shelf is devoted entirely to oceanic wildlife. A large blue leather bound book catches my eye. I pull it out and read the title. A Complete History and Guide to the People of the Sea, Volume II. I close the book and quickly put it back.

I gaze at the framed photos on the top shelf. A smile grows across my face. The images are of two little girls, one is tanned with a head of dark curly locks and the other is pale with a face full of freckles and long straight red hair. In one picture they are dressed as mermaids, laughing, having the time of their lives. They look to be no older than ten years old in that image.

In another photo, the girls are eating ice cream cones. They look much younger in this one. Both are missing their front teeth. They have more ice cream on their faces than in their cones. I notice they're wearing shimmery mermaid tails.

A frame covered in various tiny shells displays a photograph of the same girls playing at the beach, wearing the same shimmery mermaid outfits.

"See, there are people who believe," Josh says, indicating the mermaid photos. "They were playing dress up," I state, as my eyes travel up and away from the bookshelf, exploring the rest of the shop and its many treasures. The walls are covered in framed paintings. Landscapes, animals, abstract interpretations, and architectural renderings all fill the space. The piece of art that my eyes settle on is a painting of two female mermaids.

There is something so familiar about this painting, but I can't put my finger on it. The mermaids are beautiful. One is dark and the other has pale skin with long red hair. They look like the two girls from the photos, only now they are depicted older. Much older. Was that what seemed familiar, that this painting looked like the young girls from the photos?