Lost at Sea

Ch. 2

Sally closed her notebook, then lowered her sunglasses from where they were positioned on the top of her head to cover her eyes. Leaning back, she pretended to be resting so that she could covertly keep an eye on the young man (or whatever he was). She had learned long ago that it was best not to interact with the strange things she saw. Sometimes they were surprised, or confused, but most often they were angry; angry that some pesky human dare even notice them. She'd tried interacting with the dryads before, who seemed friendly and harmless enough, but they tended to be wary of anyone outside their own circle. Mermaids and naiads were all too happy to chat, but Sally had the sneaking suspicious that whatever they said was merely in an attempt to get her close enough to drag into the water.

And so Sally had interacted with this hidden world only she could see surprisingly little. She made up for the gaps in interaction with study and, of course, observation. She'd mastered the art of feigning being oblivious, or even disinterested, while out of the corner of her eye she noted every detail, imprinting them into her memory to write down at a later time.

After keenly watching the young man for nearly five minutes, she still hadn't been able to pin down what made him different. Usually it wasn't so hard. Even if a creature or being was in disguise, there was always a tell if you knew where to look. But there was nothing obvious she could see, and she soon became acutely aware that he was wearing only his swim trunks and became embarrassed. She turned her head aside, hoping to dispel the color that was surely rising to her cheeks. When she looked back, he was gone.

The following morning she found herself back at the beach, though this time not to write. She adjusted the red cap on her head, then climbed up the white wooden ladder of the lifeguard's post and took a seat. It was a Friday, and the weather had turned bright and sunny, so the beach was flooded with locals who'd come out early to stake out the prime real estate and the surrounding tourists crammed into the gaps. It was hot, and noisy, and she could feel the prickling of a new sunburn, but Sally couldn't help but smile. The pay was crap, and she wouldn't be able to keep this job beyond summer, yet she couldn't help rejoicing in the freedom she felt sitting up in that lookout, staring past the swarms of people out to the open sea.

This time, the shift was even harder to detect. From the people to the noise to the general buzz of activity, it would have been easy to ignore or fail to recognize in the first place. Yet there he was. This time the black-haired man didn't just walk along the shoreline, which would've been difficult with all the people in the way. Rather, he interacted. Sally couldn't quite figure out if he actually knew the people he spoke with, or was simply incredibly charismatic. One moment he'd be throwing a football around with other young men, the next he'd be lying on the sand next to a group of women, and once he even knelt down to help a toddler build their sandcastle. What was he playing at? She was unused to those from the hidden world, from her secret world, being so active, so visible. At one point she swore he turned to smile at her, but she quickly glanced away to keep an eye on the rest of the beach.

She'd just about forgotten him (well, almost) when she noticed not quite a wave, but more like a pulse of water surge toward the young man. When it reached his legs, where the ocean lapped against his knees and upper thighs, the water began to swirl around him. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster, forming a miniature vortex. The water curled higher and higher until it was well above the top of his head. Sally moved to the edge of her seat, leaning forward to get a better view. Then, impossibly, the water came to a halt, each droplet held in place, though not frozen. One beat. Another. The water came crashing down and dispelled in an instant, leaving it its wake the man, who was quite dry. In his right hand he held a large, bronze object that could only truly be described as a trident.

Sally fell face first from the lookout.

Whether she had blacked out for ten seconds or ten minutes, she could be sure. She just suddenly became conscious that she was inhaling and snorting up sand as she tried to catch her breath, and flipped onto her back. Leaning her head forward, she sputtered out the grainy sand and tried to wipe it from her eyes. She could already feel her cheeks starting to burn hot. This was absolutely not the confidence-inspiring position of authority a lifeguard on duty was supposed to maintain.

"Are you alright there?" said a masculine voice to the side. She still couldn't see anything because of all the sand in her eyes, but she soon felt a damp towel placed in her hands.

"Oh my God, thank you." She pressed the damp fabric to her face, gently wiping away the grains of sand while remaining careful not to rub anything in. Well, she'd at least get some good exfoliation out of all this.

"You really took a tumble there. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you. I just saw -- thought I saw something, and I got momentarily distracted." Satisfied she'd removed as much of the sand as possible for the moment, she removed the towel from her face and squinted upward at her kind benefactor. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, really? What is it that you saw? Or, think you saw, anyway," said the young man, his black hair falling into his face, nearly obscuring his stormy green eyes.

"Um, you know, thank you for the towel, and, er, everything. Really. But I should really be getting back to work, so--" she stumbled to her feet, and nearly fell back down as the blood rushed to her head. The man's arm caught her from behind, steadying her. She could of sworn she was facing him head on just a second before.

"I don't mean to overstep, but maybe you should take a break first," he said, gradually removing his arm when he was certain that she wouldn't just tip over again. What an impression she was making.

"No, that's fine, really..."

"Sally!" Jordan, her supervisor, came running up to them. "Sally, what's wrong? One of the other guards signaled to me that you just fell out of your post. Are you alright? Have you been staying hydrated? Jesus, Sally, we're supposed to worry about these idiots jumping off of rocks, not our own team. How are you feeling?" Jordan was a in his mid-twenties, a few years older than her and the majority of the staff. He'd just gotten promoted to supervisor at the start of the season and his previous laidback demeanor had since grown stressed and overbearing. Sally's fall had clearly set him into full-blown dad mindset.

"Thank you, Jordan. I'm fine, really. I was just being clumsy. Nothing to worry about."

Jordan narrowed his eyes. Leaning forward and with a lowered voice, he said, "You aren't hungover, are you? Because that can get you in serious trouble that I can't protect you from."

"What? No! Jordan, you know me!"

"That's what they all say..." Jordan stared out wistfully into the ocean.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing," the young man interjected, stepping forward. Jordan turned to him, registering the young man for the first time. "I saw the whole thing happen. It was a simple misstep. Could have happened to anyone. Especially with that rickety ladder. That's an insurance nightmare waiting to happen."

Jordan's eyes widened. Insurance claims were above his paygrade, but he knew they meant trouble.

The young man continued. "How about I just help Sally here get home, make sure she's feeling alright. Sometimes injuries from traumatic falls like this take a while to manifest. I'm sure she'll feel better if she gets the rest of the day off."

Normally, Jordan was a stickler for the rules. He didn't like people cutting shifts or leaving early; it could reflect back on him. But he just stared at the other man and nodded, then said, "You take care of yourself Sally. I'll cover the rest of your shift. I'll see you tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it." He turned to the lookout and, after staring at the ladder with some concern, climbed to the top.

The young man moved his gaze to Sally, a current of something, she didn't know what, dancing across his sea green eyes. When he turned to walk down the beach, she followed.