03 The Fate Of The Muse - Marina's Tales Read online

  “Oh!” I said, “I promised I’d call this person,” I excused myself and dialed the number of the art gallery. The owner answered right away and was as nice as Bill had said, asking if I could come by as soon as possible to discuss putting my paintings in her gallery. I agreed, and hung up the phone.

  “Do you want to go see some art?” I asked Shayla.

  “Sure,” she replied, “Why not?”

  We pulled up to the gallery and looked at the display in the front window. There was an eclectic mix of sculpture, textiles and paintings. I liked the combination.

  “I seen this place,” said Shayla, “But I never went in here before.”

  The moment we entered we were greeted warmly by a colorfully dressed older woman. Her white hair was cut in a chic bob, and like Cruz, she wore all black. She sported an enormous turquoise squash blossom necklace that dwarfed her petite frame, and a pair of bright red cowboy boots.

  “You must be Marina!” she said, “I’m Susan.”

  I introduced her to Shayla, and she led us on a tour of her gallery, enthusiastically telling us about all the different artists and their work.

  Large abstract paintings were interspersed with rustic looking tapestries and weavings. We looked at a collection of watercolors of sailboats, alongside colorful impressionistic landscapes. Susan broke up the space with sculptures as well; shining ceramic pieces mounted on pedestals, and beautifully carved burl-wood vessels with satiny burnished surfaces, just begging to be touched.

  I paused to inspect a group of miniature still life paintings rendered in heartbreakingly precise detail. Fruit spilled out of baskets, and each tiny berry was spattered with dewdrops that looked so realistic I almost believed I could reach out and eat one.

  “Whoa,” said Shayla in a hushed voice, “I didn’t know people could paint like that.”

  “Look at these,” I was drawn to some amazing glass sculptures mounted on the wall. Colorful and free-flowing, their flowerlike shapes reminded me of anemones and urchins; I could almost see them undulating on the wall like the jellyfish at the aquarium.

  “Aren’t they magnificent?” asked Susan, “I think your paintings would look fabulous right alongside this display… Are you interested in showing here?”

  “Yes,” I smiled, charmed by the quirky mix of objects she’d assembled, “I like your gallery very much.”

  She beamed at me in return, “Good. The moment I saw your pieces I knew they’d be a great addition to this show… Can you paint anything larger than the ones at Bill’s place?”

  “I can now,” I smiled.

  By the time we left I’d agreed to bring her a wall’s worth of paintings for the group show’s Friday night opening.

  “Wow,” said Shayla as we drove back home, “I didn’t know there were places like that around here… all that stuff was really sick! When I’m a rich model I’m gonna put like, tons of stuff like that in my apartment.”

  “Wait until you see the Louvre,” I said.

  “The what?”

  I began to have a hard time sleeping. My thoughts kept returning to Lorelei, Nerissa and now, Nixie. It appeared we were all hybrids, born to mermaid mothers and human fathers. But how was it that I was the only land-born hybrid that could communicate with them? Could it be because I had transformed many times– apparently before I was even born?

  The water seemed to be the key, the source of the mermaid’s strength and magic. They were lured out of the ocean by their desire for human men, tragically unaware of the consequences. If they returned to the sea, a new mermaid was born, but if love made them weak, and they stayed on land…

  I thought about Evie, and the other muses I’d soon be facing. We were all the result of someone else’s tremendous sacrifice. I couldn’t stop wondering about Nixie. If she’d been born on land would she have developed like a normal human child, thinking that the monsters raising her were her family? The whole thing was confusing, and I wondered what Ethan would say about it when I finally had a chance to break the news to him.

  He knew about Nerissa’s pregnancy, so maybe a baby mermaid wouldn’t be such a big shock to him. I wondered what he’d make of the fact that my mother had returned to her mermaid family along with me more than once. Would he be able to understand that I needed a connection with them too, or would he just feel threatened, and use it as an excuse to pull away from me?

  Pull away right back to Amber.

  When I remembered Amber it was with a visceral surge of jealousy. She might have told Ethan they could just be “friends” but I knew what she had in mind. She was like a child who discarded a toy, only to try and snatch it back when she saw that someone else wanted it. I thought about the way she spoke his name and started to get angry. Then I started to get scared. I hated her, but I didn’t want her to end up dead because of it.

  I grew more and more agitated, eventually sitting up in bed and turning the light on to grab a book. All of my art supplies were at my new studio, so I fidgeted, unable to paint to soothe myself. Emptied of all the canvases, the room looked much bigger, but it still felt like the walls were closing in on me. I finally slammed my book shut and got out of bed, picking up my wetsuit.

  I paddled out under the waxing moon, listening as the ocean whispered stronger than ever. Lorelei arrived, and sensing my black mood, towed me wordlessly to the point. It had been a long time since we’d surfed there, but the mysterious shadowy night waves were every bit as thrilling as I remembered.

  I was flying on the water, as free as any other wild creature in the sea. It felt like I was gliding on the edge of an infinite universe, and I was mercifully completely caught up in the rapturous sensation of forgetting.

  I took wave after wave in the dark water, resting between sets to look up at the stars and down in wonder at little phosphorescent sea creatures that flitted about in the depths. I felt a twinge of pain in my head and blinked away a vivid image of myself swimming below the water with Lorelei; I couldn’t tell if it was her thought or mine, and I felt like I was being absorbed. When I looked into her eyes it was as if they were my own.

  “I need to go,” I said, suddenly frightened. I reached up to feel the lump of the aquamarine underneath my wetsuit.

  “Will you come again soon?” she asked, “Nerissa wants to go wave riding too.”

  “Yes,” I said, knowing I would, despite the fear that sat like an ice cube in my stomach. I knew I’d keep doing it, even though I was beginning to sense an increasing threat coming from the innocent mermaids. I was changing, becoming more attuned to them. As strange as it sounded, it felt as though I was merging with them, becoming part of the sea cell by cell, and it felt good, like drifting off to sleep. No wonder they were so weak and frail when they left its nurturing pulse.

  Living on the land, contending with all of its worries and problems, kept me grounded in the most literal sense of the word. I suppose that constantly fighting gravity, coupled with being subjected to aging, toughened you up– even as it wore you out.

  Bidding Lorelei goodbye, I made for terra firma and trudged up the stairs, cold and exhausted. The air was still, I was the only creature stirring in the calm, quiet moments just before dawn electrified the atmosphere. I nearly ran into the outline of a small figure at the top of the stairs, barely illuminated in the silvery mist, and I dropped my surfboard in surprise.

  “Dollface,” a quiet voice called out affectionately, and I relaxed. It was Stella.

  “Stella! Are you alright? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?’ I asked.

  “I needed to see… to check…the little wild ones…” her voice drifted off, and I squinted to try and focus on her. It felt as if she were backing away from me.

  “Stella?” I repeated nervously, wondering if she was sleepwalking.

  “She had on the blue shoes? Of all the cockamamie things…”

  “What shoes?” I asked, peering into the black shadows.

  “Aw, he was a swell guy when he wa
sn’t on the hooch…” her voice faded out, and I strained to hear her.

  “Stella?” She worried me, for she was rambling more than usual, “Can I walk you home?”

  I wondered where she lived, realizing at that moment exactly how little I really knew about her. She started to walk away, and I could see her shadowy figure shuffling up the stairs, pausing, and turning back to face me, “I need you to watch over them. Don’t let them go hungry.”

  “Of course not,” I said, bending down to pick up my surfboard, adjusting it under my arm before following her up the stairs. She disappeared into the near blackness of the cover of the trees, and I could hear her on the dark path ahead of me, laughing to herself at some private joke.

  “Bless your soul, sweetie.”

  When I reached the top of the stairs she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Stella… Stella?” I looked up and down the street but she had gone on without me. I stopped to listen but the night was as still as before. I made a mental note to pick up more cat food in the morning, and get it to her before I left for Paris. She was probably starting to run low right about now.

  The next day dawned bright and clear. It was Friday, and the big demonstration was scheduled for the next afternoon. I knew that Ethan was already at the site, hard at work, setting up a stage for the speakers and performers and roping off the parking areas. Dutch was picking up a barbeque pit, and they had plenty of volunteers scheduled to set up tables and awnings.

  I needed to get downtown and deliver my paintings to the gallery, so I decided to pick up some cat food on the way home. I scrutinized my pile of finished paintings, selecting a nice assortment for the show, and loading them in the Rover. I found myself reluctant to leave my studio, but I had to get the paintings over to Susan’s gallery in time for her to hang them.

  Before I locked up, I paused to take a last look around the loft. Shayla and I had worked hard to clean the place up and it was completely transformed. It looked comfortable, and I truly felt as though I could relax here. I shivered with a long absent happiness, and had an overwhelming urge to see Ethan. I couldn’t wait to surprise him with my new studio, and decided to show him after the rally. I realized we could be completely alone here, and the thought was both exciting and scary.

  When I turned into Abby’s drive the first thing I saw was Ethan’s truck. It was a happy surprise, for I didn’t expect him until much later. I walked in with a smile, lugging a large bag of cat food. Ethan and Abby were sitting at the kitchen table. They looked at the bag and back up at me with sympathetic eyes.

  “I see you heard,” Abby said.

  Ethan got up to give me a hug, “I just found out… Are you okay?”

  I drew back, “Found out what?”

  “Didn’t you see the paper?”

  “No,” I said, looking between the two of them. They exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

  “We have some bad news…” Abby bit her lip, “You better sit down, hun.”

  Ethan took my hand and showed me the newspaper. There was an obituary with a picture of Stella and a headline that read, “Longtime Aptos Resident.” I took it from him and read an article that said Stella had been found dead at her daughter’s house… five days ago.

  “No,” I shook my head in disbelief, “It’s not possible.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.

  I looked up at them, “But, seriously… I… I just saw her.”

  They exchanged a look. “Oh honey… I’m so sorry.” Abby said.

  “No! I mean, it’s got to be a mistake,” I said dismissively, not wanting to bring up my surfing last night. “I bet she’s down there as we speak… in fact, I’m going for a walk to drop off some food to her right now.”

  Now they looked alarmed. I got up, mildly irritated, “It’s just some dumb mistake. Trust me, you can’t believe everything you read!”

  Abby rushed over to me with a sob and hugged me close, patting my back like she was burping a baby. I rolled my eyes at Ethan in amusement, patting her in return.

  “I’ll just be a little while,” I told them, getting up to go.

  “I’ll go with you,” Ethan said, following me out the door. He took the bag under one arm and my hand with the other, casting sideways glances at me as we walked.

  “You know,” he said tentatively, “She was really old.”

  “I’m aware of that,” I replied sarcastically, “Stop looking at me that way!”

  He went on, “It was bound to happen sometime…”

  We worked our way down the stairs to the spot where the cats were fed, but there was no sign of her. I was surprised to see them come out right away, for they usually never showed themselves without Stella nearby. I looked around for her, checking her favorite benches, finally opening the bag and pouring out some food.

  Ethan and I stood back and watched as a group of mangy looking cats came slithering out of the underbrush. They set upon the food frantically, barely looking over at us. I recognized the little tabby cat Stella called Freddy, noticing it was visibly pregnant, its bony frame barely able to support what could only be a litter of kittens.

  I chuckled, “I guess she should have named it Fredericka,” I said.

  And suddenly, I knew she was gone.

  My eyes filled with tears, meeting Ethan’s as he stepped closer to enclose me in his arms. I was going to miss her, and I was stunned, barely able to process the idea. As scattered as Stella had been, hearing her ramble on about the past was a comfort to me. She was one of the few links I had to the mother I never knew, and I now could feel those memories slipping away from me. There was one less person on earth I could talk to about it.

  I started shaking, trembling uncontrollably when I realized that it wasn’t Stella I’d spoken to last night, at least not the flesh-and-blood Stella. Her spirit couldn’t rest until she was sure her beloved cats would be taken care of. It was both sad and shocking.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan whispered in my ear.

  “I’m okay,” I replied, but my voice was quavery. I wanted to tell him what happened last night, but I didn’t want to worry him about my return to nocturnal surfing. My mind was filled with awe as I thought about what it meant. I had seen a dead woman, and spoken with her… was this just some phantom I’d conjured up in my own mind, or could it be another manifestation of my hybrid powers? Did this mean I might be able to see my mother?

  Being a scientist’s daughter, I’d always been taught to be skeptical about the ghostly sightings and spiritual gibberish that Evie wanted so desperately to believe. Her cadre of mediums and fortune tellers had never proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could communicate with spirits. I thought about all the times I’d teased Evie about her beliefs, and now, without even looking for it, I had just been provided with empirical evidence of an afterlife. It was disconcerting, but strangely comforting.

  Just then, a jogger I’d seen before came trotting by, pausing for a beat to watch the strays scarfing down the food. “Too bad about the cat lady,” he panted, checking his time while running in place, “But I guess none of us can live forever.” He plodded off, his feet crunching on the gravel.

  Ethan looked at me with apprehension dawning in his eyes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SERENDIPITY

  Ethan was quiet on the walk home, his face distant and preoccupied. It was just as well, as I had a lot to think about, and I tended to clam up when I felt sad. When we got onto Abby’s drive, he stopped me, wrapping his arms around me and burrowing his face in my neck.

  “I guess it’s up to me to feed the cats now,” I said, thinking about Stella’s request.

  He held me tighter, rubbing my back. We were just starting to relax into each other when a powerful engine roared around the corner, startling us. Ethan pulled me behind him as a sports car lurched into the driveway, coming to a screeching halt. It was a familiar bright red, but longer and lower to the ground than the Porsche. I looked around Ethan’s sh
oulder to see Cruz step out of it.

  He looked at us with a smirk, “Now, why am I not surprised?”

  “Welcome back Cruz.”

  Ethan looked at the car, and then at Cruz with raised eyebrows, “Whoa! She lets you drive the Testarossa?”

  “I have carte blanche in the garage,” Cruz said haughtily, throwing his overnight bag over his shoulder, “So, how are things here in tinytown? Are you two kids behaving?”

  Ethan and I exchanged an amused glance, “Your mom misses you,” I called after him as he jauntily strolled into the house.

  “I have to get back to work,” Ethan said, explaining that he’d promised to help finish setting up. There was a ton of heavy lifting to do before sunset and his dad was already there waiting for him. Abby and I had offered to help but were informed that we’d probably just be in the way.

  He took both of my hands in his and looked me in the eye, “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

  I nodded yes, “I have to go to a gallery opening at five tonight… Will you be done by then? Do you want to go?”

  “A gallery opening?” he asked, looking surprised, “Why?”

  “I have some paintings in a place downtown. It’s a friend of Bill’s.”

  He looked stricken, “Why didn’t you tell me before? I should have gotten started earlier…”

  I smiled ruefully, for it wasn’t as if he could work any harder than he already did. “It’s okay… I only found out yesterday. Shayla’s gonna go with me. I know how busy you are…”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s just that–”

  I cut him off, “It’s okay! I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”

  Then he kissed me, and I could feel the urgency behind it. I was leaving the morning after the rally, and the weight of our impending separation was weighing on both of us. I thought about being alone with him at my studio and snuggled closer with a shiver. Maybe it was finally time.

  “Tomorrow is my last day before I leave for Paris,” I whispered in his ear.