Tamed by the Creature from the Lagoon

by Clea Kinderton

  In all likelihood, whatever had bedded down had just been an animal. A stray dog or a raccoon, or possibly even a deer. I crouched down and parted the grass, looking for some kind of track, but I couldn’t find anything. I wasn’t a tracker. I’d need a professional to make sense of it.

  I sighed and shook my head. I hadn’t imagined the sound, but whatever it was that had been outside my window that night was long gone.

  My phone started ringing.

  I plucked the phone from my pocket and checked the screen. It was Chet. I accepted the call and began making my way back to the front of the house.

  “Hey. What’s up?” I said, swinging the rifle through the long grass.

  “Kate? The wife and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?” Chet’s voice sounded tentative.

  “This was her idea, wasn’t it?” I said, crunching across some gravel. I heard Chet guffaw as I started climbing the steps to the porch.

  “Yep. She thinks we’re having a torrid affair.”

  I heard a woman’s voice in the background. “Chet! I never said that!”

  Chet giggled hysterically and I started to laugh as well.

  “Sure. I’d love to,” I said. “What time?”

  “I’ll pick you up at five thirty. Hope you like ribs. I asked her to cook up the trout, but she was worried it would offend you, seeing as how fish are your friends and all.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I hung up.

  I suppose I should have expected to be interrogated by his spouse at some point.

  I went back inside, finished my coffee, and cut up a peach. As I snacked, I thought more about my dream.

  The incredible richness of the details haunted me. It was very coherent, entirely unlike my usual dreams; as fresh and vivid as if it had really happened. The clothing, tools, and wooden structures of the island tribe had looked entirely authentic, though I had no idea if they were. I could still taste the concoction they’d given me, though in the real world, no aphrodisiac that I knew of could produce an effect remotely close to what I’d experienced. My ... need ... had been anguishing, though it had been a pleasurable sort of pain. The events had been bizarre, for sure, but the entire experience had flowed seamlessly and sequentially, like a movie. Aside from the unusual texture of my lover’s skin, the way its member vibrated and swelled, and the odd sounds that the creature had made, there had been nothing inexplicable or disjointed about the experience. And those details could easily be attributed to my outlandish speculations over the last couple of days. It was obvious what had inspired the dream.

  Though I knew that sex dreams weren’t usually about sex (they had their own, often cryptic, symbolic meaning), thinking about the way the creature had taken me made me feel distinctly uncomfortable, so I pushed the dream out of my head as well as I could and grabbed a book, trying to distract myself. Thankfully, like most dreams, it began to lose its hold over me almost at once and I managed to while away the afternoon reading about coastal habitats.

  At five thirty-two, I heard a vehicle pulling up the lane and set aside the textbook. I polished off the cold dregs of my fourth cup of coffee, got up from where I’d slumped onto the floor in front of the couch, and stretched.

  A car horn honked.

  I grabbed my phone and slid it into my purse, slipped on my shoes, and went outside, locking the door behind me.

  When I climbed into the van, Chet gave me a once over.

  “What?” I said, giving him a look.

  Did he just check me out?

  “Just making sure you’re presentable,” he said, grinning.

  I was wearing capris and a t-shirt.

  “Am I dressed modestly enough for you? Jeez, Chet, she’s really got you whipped.”

  “You have no idea,” he said, turning the key with a sigh.

  The engine roared to life and Chet backed up the van, turning it around on a bare patch of dirt and gravel before heading back down the lane.

  “I heard about your encounter with the Fish-Man,” said Chet, smirking.

  “What?!” I sat bolt upright, a vivid recollection from my dream flashing through my mind.

  Chet gave me a quizzical look. “On the lagoon. My dad told me he had to rescue you.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, laughing nervously. “It was probably just a catfish or something.”

  “So you made my dad row out to the dock because you think you might have seen a catfish?” Chet chortled. “I thought you were a marine biologist.”

  “I am,” I said, blushing furiously. When he put it that way it did sound ridiculous. “I wasn’t sure what it was. It was under the dock. I thought it might have been an alligator.”

  “Sure,” he said, nodding facetiously. “Or a Fish-Man.”

  I punched him hard on the shoulder. The van swerved slightly and he brought it back in line with a twist of the wheel.

  “Hey! Driving here,” he said, pretending to be disgruntled. He could barely contain his smirk.

  “Then. Stop. Making. Fun. Of. Me,” I said, punctuating each word with another jab on the shoulder.

  Chet laughed. “Maybe Courtney and you should compare notes.”

  “Argh!” I snarled in frustration. “Do you want this dinner to go well or not?” I said, threatening.

  The smile vanished instantly from Chet’s face. “Now, now,” he said. “No need to get testy.”

  We turned off Lighthouse Road onto the Coastal Highway and rumbled over the bridge. Ollie’s Oyster Shack came up on my right. There were a number of vehicles parked in the lot and I could see Courtney’s lilac head and blue uniform rushing in through the front door. Late as usual, apparently.

  “So are you going to come out fishing with me sometime?” said Chet, pulling off Coastal Highway onto the Ouzis side road.

  “If your wife will let you bring me,” I said, smirking back at him.

  Chet puffed up his cheeks and blew air through his whiskers.

  “There is that,” he said. “I should probably warn you, she’s sort of the jealous type.”

  “Really?” I said, feigning surprise. “I never would have guessed. How is married life treating you, anyway?”

  “Good,” he said, smiling. “Really good. I know this is probably going to be hard to believe, because I kept telling you how I was never going to have kids, but I’m really happy. Loni can be a bit of a nut, but I love her. And Josh and Allie are great kids. I’ve never been happier.”

  “That’s really good to hear, Chet.”

  I felt a sudden stab of pain in my chest, a hollow sort of throb where all the hopes and dreams I’d pegged on Henry used to be. It felt painfully empty in there, now. Like an empty room, and an empty crib.

  “I’m sorry about Henry,” said Chet, suddenly sombre, picking up on my mood. “You probably don’t want to hear about how happy I am.”

  I shook my head, fighting back the tears that threatened to creep into the corners of my eyes.

  “No, it’s good. I’m happy for you. It gives me hope.”

  I gave him a smile and he smiled back, a tender look in his eyes.

  “I know we don’t talk much anymore,” he said. “But I still consider you my best friend, Kate. If you ever need to talk, just pick up the phone.”

  “Ditto,” I said, swallowing the emotion that threatened to creep into my voice.

  Chet was right. Even after all these years, even with all the people I knew back home — my colleagues and acquaintances — I didn’t really have any true friends. Not ones like Chet. Henry had been that person for a while, but he was gone now.

  “We’re here,” said Chet, pulling up in front of a modest red brick bungalow with toys in the front yard.

  I could smell the barbecue ribs from inside the van.

  “Loni and the kids are out back,” he said, popping open the door.

  Before he could slip out I reached over and gave him a hug.

  “Thanks,
Chet. You’re a good friend,” I said, struggling to contain my emotion.

  Chet hugged me back quickly and then pulled away.

  “Hey now,” he said with exaggerated concern. “Enough of that. Loni might see.”

  I made a whipping sound, flicking my finger against his shoulder.

  We both laughed and got out of the van, but there were tears in my eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  I followed Chet around back and was immediately greeted by two screaming children, who tore across the yard.

  “Hey, hey, hey! Come on, now. Settle down!” Chet barked in a surprisingly dad-like voice.

  The boy, who looked to be about eight, jerked to an abrupt halt, grabbing his sister by the shoulders and pulling her back before she could plant her muddy hands on my clean white capris. The boy was the splitting image of Chet when he was the same age: chubby-cheeked, with an unruly tangle of curly brown hair and big brown eyes. The girl, who looked to be about five, was paler, an impish-looking elfling with blonde ringlets.

  An attractive — and very pregnant — woman with a frazzled sandy-blonde ponytail was flipping ribs on a barbecue with a big pair of tongs. The woman looked over at us and smiled, but I could see the strain in her face.

  “Glad you could make it, Kate,” said the woman, setting down the tongs and waddling over to stand behind her children. Her eyes were scrutinizing me from top to bottom.

  “Loni, Kate. Kate, Loni,” said Chet, introducing us.

  “It’s a pleasure,” I said, smiling politely.

  “Likewise,” said Loni, maintaining her smile with some effort. “It’s nice to be able to put a face to your name, Kate. Chet’s told me so much about you.”

  “The good stuff is true,” I said. “He makes up the rest.”

  Loni laughed, looking somewhat more at ease.

  It felt strange to be meeting Chet’s wife for the first time, considering how long they’d been married. I’d been conducting research in the Indian Ocean at the time of their wedding and hadn’t been able to attend. Now I wish I’d made the effort.

  “Are you a fish doctor?” said the boy, looking up at me with wide, dark eyes. He was short, like Chet had been. A late bloomer.

  “I’m a teuthologist. That’s a kind of scientist,” I said, smiling down at him.

  “Oh.” The boy’s smile faded.

  “You must be Josh,” I said, suppressing a sigh. I guess being a scientist just isn’t as interesting as being a fish doctor.

  The little boy nodded.

  “This is Allie. She’s my sister,” he said, rolling his eyes by way of apology.

  “Do you know all the fish?” said the girl, looking up with the same wide eyes that her brother had given me.

  “I know a lot of them,” I said, crouching down to her level.

  “Do you know about goldfish?” she said, her eyes bright.

  “I sure do,” I said, smiling.

  “Do you want to see one?” she said, getting more excited.

  “She doesn’t want to see your goldfish, Allie,” said Chet gruffly.

  “It’s okay, really,” I said, looking up at him. “I’d love to,” I said, turning back to Allie.

  “Come on,” she said, wrapping her muddy fingers around my hand.

  “Wash your hands before you come back out,” said Loni. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  Allie led me into the house through the patio door, through the living room, and down the hall to her room. The walls were painted in two shades of blue — aquamarine and turquoise — and a number of smiling fish had been painted on them: orange ones, red ones, yellow ones ... even a big purple octopus ... all swimming in front of emerald green seaweed. The bedspread and pillow covers were aquamarine and turquoise, just like the walls, and all the furniture had been painted coral.

  “I love your room,” I said with genuine admiration.

  “My mommy painted the fish,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Allie dragged me over to a shelf holding a large fishbowl. A beautiful Carassius auratus with bright yellow-orange scales was swimming languidly inside. The sunlight streaming through the window of her room illuminated the fish, making its scales glow like a miniature sun.

  “This is Mr. Sunshine,” Allie said proudly.

  “Mr. Sunshine?! That’s a very good name for a goldfish,” I said.

  “Have you seen one before?”

  “I have,” I said, nodding. “But I’ve never seen one this beautiful.”

  The girl beamed with pleasure. “Do you have a fish?”

  “Not at home,” I said. “But we have some at the school where I work.”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  “I study cephalopods,” I said. “Do you know what those are?”

  She shook her head, looking very solemn.

  “They’re octopuses,” I said, wriggling my fingers and tickling her.

  Allie squealed and danced away. “Those aren’t fish!” she shouted defiantly.

  “You’re right, they aren’t,” I said, laughing. “But they hang out with fish. You’re very smart for knowing they’re not fish,” I said, impressed.

  “I know a lot about fish,” she said smugly.

  “Are you going to be a marine biologist when you grow up?”

  “No. I’m going to be a mermaid!”

  “Mermaids aren’t real, doofus,” came a voice from behind us. Her brother Josh was standing in the doorway, rolling his eyes at his sister’s ignorance.

  “Yes they are!” shouted Allie.

  “Mom told me to tell you to wash your hands,” he said, ignoring her outburst. “Dinner’s ready. Hurry up or it’ll get cold.”

  Josh disappeared as abruptly as he’d arrived and Allie led me to the washroom and we washed our hands. As we walked back down the hall, a second door opened and Josh appeared, standing in the door to his room. I happened to glance inside and felt my heart lurch into my throat. A poster for the 1954 movie Creature from the Black Lagoon was hanging on the wall. A green fish-man with gills and webbed hands was clutching a woman in a white one-piece bathing suit underwater, her mouth open in a silent scream that sent bubbles floating up to the surface.

  Josh was staring at me with curiosity.

  I shook my head to dislodge my temporary paralysis and smiled somewhat weakly.

  “Are you a fan of old movies?” I said, pointing up at the poster.

  Josh smiled. “Yeah,” he said, guiding me into his room. He turned around in a circle, pointing to each of his posters in turn. “Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Mummy, Frankenstein and The Mole People.”

  “That’s a great collection,” I said. “Your parents let you watch scary movies?”

  “They’re not scary at all!” said Josh, disgusted by my ignorance.

  “They are too!” said Allie, staring warily at the mole man.

  “Josh! Allie! Dinner’s getting cold!” came Loni’s voice, shouting down the hall.

  I ushered the children down the hall ahead of me and out into the backyard.

  “I hope they didn’t pester you too much,” said Loni, smiling apologetically.

  “Not at all,” I said warmly. “They’re very well-behaved.”

  Chet snorted, almost choking on his beer.

  “I want you to remember this moment,” he said to Loni. “It’s the first and last time anyone is ever going to say that about our kids.”

  Loni gave him a sour look and led me over to a picnic table covered with a checkered cloth, paper plates, plastic cups, and a large bowl of salad covered with Saran wrap.

  “Take a seat,” she said. “Do you want a beer?”

  “Of course she does,” said Chet, handing me an open bottle from a cooler.

  “Thanks,” I said, blushing somewhat. Nice, Chet. She’s going to think I’m an alcoholic.

  I poured the beer into a cup and Loni set down a large slab of barbecued ribs on the paper plate in front of me. I noticed that the wind had died down, but the sky was now gro
wing overcast, even a little ominous.

  Chet sat down across from me with two big slabs of ribs.

  “Leave room for some salad,” said Loni, glaring at him.

  Chet sighed and unwrapped the salad bowl, serving himself a small pile of what appeared to be coleslaw.

  When the kids had been served, Loni pulled a lawn chair over to the end of the table and eased herself into it. She was too big to sit at the bench.

  “When are you due?” I said, taking a bite of coleslaw. It was pretty darn good.

  “Four weeks,” Loni said with a sigh. “But I won’t complain if it’s early. Chet tells me you don’t have any kids.”

  I grimaced slightly. “Not yet,” I said, trying to hide my expression in my cup of beer. “Henry didn’t want any.”

  Loni suddenly looked embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  “It’s okay,” I said, smiling. How would you know? I glanced over at Chet who shrugged apologetically.

  Henry and I had argued about starting a family numerous times. He kept saying: it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time. It was never the right time. And now it was too late. But after what he’d done to me, I was glad I hadn’t had any with him.

  “Dinosaurs are not dragons!” Josh said suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

  “They are too!” said Allie.

  “Shush!” said Loni, silencing them.

  “You don’t want kids anyway, do you Kate?” said Chet, glaring at his children.

  I glanced at Loni, who gave me an apologetic, pitying look.

  Chet didn’t get it, but she knew.

  “Can you turn the radio up, honey?” she said to Chet, changing the subject. “I think the weather report’s coming up. It looks like we’re in for a storm.”

  I looked up at the sky, surprised by how dark the clouds had gotten.