Lovesick Little

by Leslie Phelan

  Cliff paused to remember his friend and how close they had always been. “Ben and his wife Darlene died in a car crash many years ago,” he answered. “It was their tenth anniversary, and they were on their way home from dinner when a speeding drunk driver rear-ended them at a red light and knocked them into the busy intersection,” he said matter-of-factly and with sorrow in his voice. “Darlene died instantly, Ben died in the ambulance.”

  Demetra put her arms around her father’s shoulders and pressed her soft cheek to his. “I’m sorry, Dad, that must have been so sad.”

  “Yes, it was a sad time,” said Cliff, “but it was most tragic for their daughter Erica, who was no older than you are right now when it happened.”

  “Read us the letter, Cliffy; I’m dying to hear how Erica’s doing,” said Lucia.

  “Alright, then,” he said, and began to read the letter aloud:

  Dear Uncle Cliff, I hope this letter finds you and your family well, for I have had an amazing year seeing the world! I spent my twentieth birthday in Nicaragua for a school-building volunteer mission. There, I met a crew of Italians who then invited me to their family ‘podere’ in Umbria where I spent last autumn picking olives and developing a taste for fine wines. After that, I backpacked Vietnam with some Germans I met two years ago in Whistler and when that was done, I came to Australia to spend time on a cattle ranch with three of my cousins. Life has been sweet, and I have been so blessed. I have met so many wonderful people, but I have never forgotten my dear O’Faolains.

  Exactly three weeks from today, I will be on a plane headed for Vancouver. I write you now to remind you of an invitation you extended to me all those years ago at my parents’ funeral. You told me that any time I wanted to come spend time with you guys on the Island, I would be welcome. One month from now, I plan to finally take you up on it!

  I hope there is still room for me, because I have thought of you, Lucia, Ava and Gabriel often, and have been looking forward to seeing you all for quite some time. Lucia was pregnant with Demetra when I last saw you all, and I cannot wait to meet her at long last. I have thought of Dagmara too; she has visited me once or twice in my dreams, and has never failed to remind me of the beauty to be found in this life as well as the next. I will call you once I’ve arrived at my aunt Julie’s place in Horseshoe Bay, and hopefully then we can make some arrangements. Until then, I will be looking forward to my visit, and to catching up with all of you. I know it will be great times, and I can hardly wait. Love, Erica. Xoxo

  Cliff paused for a moment and wiped the still-forming tears from his eyes. “Well it seems young Erica will be visiting us in a month!” he said happily.

  “Does Gabriel remember her?” asked Demetra. “I’m sure he does,” answered Lucia. “She, Gabe and Dagmara used to play together, before you were even a twinkle in your daddy’s bright blue eyes. “She was a portly little tomboy, but still cute as ever. I think she had a bit of a crush on Gabe back then, too . . . Oh, I hope she stays for a while, there is so much catching up to do!”

  “There certainly is,” said Cliff, standing up. “And what a brave little thing she was, so strong and independent, even after losing both of her parents on the same night.”

  “I know, darling,” concurred his wife. “Even as a child, she was an inspiration to us all.”

  “I’m going to dig up all our old photo albums to show her, there are some good ones of all of us from back in the day!” And with that, Cliff ran upstairs to the hutch where they kept all their old pictures and keepsakes, and embarked on his stroll down memory lane.

  Right before waking up, Ava dreamt she was in McDonalds ordering a meal. It had been a while since she had last polluted herself with the sinfully delicious trans-fatty processed puck they call a Big Mac, and the thought of its dirty indulgence coupled with the salty steam of the fry pit made her mouth water. She set her plastic tray down on a plastic tabletop inside a plastic booth (fitting, she thought, upon which to enjoy her plastic meal) and sat herself down. She opened the cardboard box containing her burger and picked it up with both hands, the way they do in the commercials, shaking a side salad’s worth of shredded lettuce free. Mac sauce squeezed out the sides but she didn’t care; she knew it was always worth the mess. She brought it to her mouth, inhaled its scientifically engineered fumes, and bit into it deeply.

  As soon as she chomped her teeth down, she felt the roof of her mouth tear open as something sharp hooked itself into her soft palate and yanked her out of her seat by her mouth. She looked up to see the roof of the restaurant had opened up, and she was being pulled up into the air by a hook attached to a line. She squirmed and writhed but quickly realized that the more she struggled against it, the deeper the hook set itself into her skull. She couldn’t help herself from wriggling though; she was in survival mode now and everything inside her said to fight for her life. The higher it took her, the more she felt its barb rip into her tongue and cheeks.

  Finally after an ascent that seemed to take forever, she was picked up and the hook was torn roughly from her mouth by a giant set of pliers. Dizzy, gasping for air and bleeding from her mouth, she was handled, weighed, and had her photo taken with the proud angler that hooked her. He laid her comparatively small body down on the rocks and as she squirmed between them in a semi-lucid state, she groggily looked up to see two hands holding a boulder over her head. As it came down on her, blotting out all light on its descent, she remembered in vivid detail her favorite seafood dinner of all time: lobster and fried ling cod with buttery béarnaise. Lights out.

  Thud. She woke up on the floor again. Lying perfectly still on her throw pillows and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, she ran her tongue across the roof of her mouth carefully. Still swearing she could taste her own metallic blood spilling, she rolled over to glance at her alarm clock. It was 2:32 pm; she was the only one in the family who ever slept in so late and so often, and if ever she was awake early in the morning, it was only because she hadn’t yet gone to bed. She sat up, reached for her robe and walked out to her balcony to find it was just another perfect day on the coast. There were a few fishing boats out in the water, and she shuddered to imagine what they were doing to their catch. Still in a daze, she headed downstairs because she was starving and whatever her mother was cooking smelled fresh and fantastic.

  “Well, good afternoon, sleeping beauty,” said Lucia. “How is my big girl?” Lucia was, as per usual, in a chipper mood and cooking in her bathing suit. Breezes flowed liberally through the open windows on either side of the kitchen, wafting its intoxicating smells at Ava’s face as she took a seat at the breakfast bar. Lucia dropped a plate with two fish tacos on it in front of her. Usually, they were Ava’s favorite, but today she wasn’t quite in the mood for them. She pushed the plate away.

  “Not feeling it today, Mom,” she said flatly. “What else are we working with?”

  Lucia looked at her strangely. “What do you mean? Since when are you not feeling my fish tacos?”

  “I had a weird dream,” she said, rubbing her temples with her thumbs. “Any other options?”

  “My shrimp and scallop ceviche,” answered Lucia brightly. “I put grapefruit chunks in it the way you like!”

  Ava slid off her stool and walked to the pantry. “I’m in more of a cereal mood today. Thanks anyway, Mom.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Lucia, gladly digging in while Ava poured almond milk over her Honey Nut Cheerios.

  Outside on the patio, Gabriel and Arielle enjoyed their personal bowls of ceviche, and between sweet and tangy bites, he brought up the proposed next day’s activities. “So our neighbors and good friends the Von Der Klaasens have just bought a huge crazy sick yacht and they’ve invited us to join them on its maiden voyage tomorrow!”

  The little mermaid shot her love an unsure look. She knew that being on a boat would mean having to be dangerously close to the water, and that all it would take would be one good splash to make her tail burst out in all its flapping, scaly glory. T
he O’Faolains and the Von der Klaasens would all shriek in horror while she slithered to the edge of the boat to leap into the water and disappear forever, a monster shamed and disgraced. She shook her head ‘no.’

  “What do you mean no?” he asked her incredulously. “Who says ‘no’ to a ride on a brand new luxury yacht?” He thought for a second. “Is it that you can’t swim?”

  She made a face at his silly suggestion, then remembered that she had never actually allowed him to see her wet, let alone swimming. He laughed. “Well, what then? Are you afraid of sharks?” She made another face. Of course she wasn’t afraid of sharks; to be eaten by one would be the best death there is.

  “See, I don’t get you,” he started. “Everything about you suggests you come from the sea; that necklace you wear, the way you washed up on our shore, all those pearls and stuff you had tied into your hair. But ever since the day I found you out there, I haven’t been able to get you anywhere near the water ‘cause you run screaming from it! Well, perhaps not so much screaming, as silently protesting while clawing at doorframes. You are a mystery, woman!”

  Arielle frowned and wondered if, once they were married, she would be able to show him her tail. She wondered if it would still matter that she was different if he had already pledged his love to her, for better or for worse.

  “Well, whatever your problem with boats is, I would still love it if you came. It’s not some rickety little ocean jalopy, it’s the newest, shiniest Von der Klaasen cottage toy. We’re going to the mainland to pick up a friend, and all of us are going so if you exempt yourself from this outing, you’ll be left at the house all alone. Bored. Lonely. Withering away in solitude . . .”

  She thought about it more. Would it really be the worst thing ever if he saw her tail? What about the rest of the family? The very room they gave her to sleep in was a veritable shrine to her kind. Would he think her tail was hideous, or would he find it beautiful and special? She shrugged.

  “So it’s settled then! You’re going to love the view of Van City from the water.” She didn’t disagree; she had loved absolutely everything he had shown her. “Anyway, I told my buddy in Amsterdam that we’d Skype this morning, so I better go in and log on . . . you can entertain yourself for a bit, right?” Arielle smiled, and turned to walk around the house over to the sunroom.

  When she got there, she spotted some kind of large instrument in the corner of the room, covered with a brown sheet. Curiously, she pulled the sheet off to find an antique wooden harp. The discovery pleased her greatly, because mermaids are not only beautiful singers, they are musically inclined on all levels and are exceptionally talented at picking up instruments incredibly fast. She pulled the harp out from the wall and pulled a chair up beside it. She strummed slowly at first, acquainting herself with the notes, adjusting the strings by ear. Inside each mermaid is, at any given time, a song just waiting to burst forth from her heart. When the sea witch took her voice, the songs in Arielle’s heart began to pile up, dying for release. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of finding an instrument sooner!

  When she began to strum and pluck at the grand old harp, she filled the room with the most angelic notes. The tunes just came to her, and she played as if she had been practicing her whole life, even though she had never before played upon one that wasn’t rotting in the brandy room of an old sunken ship.

  She sang along, if only in her head. How beautifully her voice would have accompanied the notes from the twanging strings, and how melodiously those sounds would blend and float out to sea, carried upon the breeze to where they’d pierce the tossing waves and find her father, and let him know that she was happy and well. Through song, she would have explained her pursuit of happiness and why it stole her away, and why there was no one on this planet for her but this human. She played a song that was both happy and sad, for while she delighted in all that she was experiencing, she missed her family dearly.

  When she was finished losing herself in her beautiful melody, she opened her eyes and heard Lucia clapping behind her.

  “That was beautiful, Arielle!” said Lucia, astounded by the amazing closet harp prodigy that was currently staying in her home. Lucia stared at her wide-eyed, still clapping, wondering where and how the girl learned to play so flawlessly.

  “That was my mother’s harp,” she said. “She played like an angel, but my clumsy fingers were never much good at it. It’s a shame, really; I don’t want to get rid of it but no one in this house plays so it just sits there collecting dust.” Lucia paused, reflecting. “Dagmara could play. My mom used to come over on the weekends to give her lessons and she would practice a bit every day. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed the way it makes the whole house come alive with its vibrations. She made my mom feel like the best teacher in the world.” She smiled as she sat down, remembering. Arielle could see how much she was enjoying the music, so she played another song, making it up as she went along, creating pretty sounds that brought tears to Lucia’s eyes while she listened and reminisced. “Our house has felt so quiet,” she said.

  Gabriel logged off with his friend and, halfway down the stairs, found himself spellbound and following the music into the sunroom. He walked in just as she was wrapping up her tune.

  “Don’t tell me she just learned to play that this afternoon!” Gabriel was positively awestruck by her surprising talent. “Seriously, that sounded amazing! Where’d you learn to play like that?”

  Arielle shrugged her shoulders. Technically, she had just learned that day, but there would be no way of explaining that to him. Gabriel’s face softened when he looked over at his mother sitting on the wicker lounge chair, smiling hopefully from behind tear-soaked cheeks. He sat down and held his mom close, motioning to Arielle to play one more gorgeous song. Gladly, she brought her fingers to the strings and began to play song that opened up like a fragrant bouquet of fond memories, taking them back to times long past and to moments spent with souls sorely missed. But while the music stirred up old pain and dormant longing, it also filled them with gladness for the memories they got to take with them, as well as an appreciation for their beautiful life and the loved ones who still remained.

  Lucia sniffled. “That’s what I’ve been missing!” she said as she stood up.

  “Yeah, this is so nice!” her son concurred. But the sounds of the harp had reminded her of something, and brought to her nose (the way fond memories often do) the memory of an old smell she hadn’t experienced in years. “Your grandma’s famous olive-stuffed cheesy focaccia!” she said excitedly.

  “Oh yeah, you haven’t made those in about a decade!” said Gabriel, rubbing his hands.

  “I think I forgot about them until now!” she said. “But now that it’s in my head, it’s gotta happen! Arielle, you’ll love ‘em!”

  Arielle wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but figured anything that could make a crying woman instantly pep up has got to be pretty tasty. So they sent Gabriel out to the garden for some fresh tomatoes and hustled into the kitchen.

  “I don’t know how I forgot about this recipe,” said Lucia, using a paring knife to pit a handful of black olives. “When I was listening to you play just then, I closed my eyes and all I could smell was a salty, cheesy, toasty loaf baking. It took me right back to snack time in my parents’ home, smelling it in the oven, hearing my mother play.”

  Arielle smiled while she crushed the garlic, happy to be a part of their human family tradition. Then all of a sudden she jumped at the sound of Lucia’s sudden painful shriek and turned to see what happened.

  “Shit! I’m so clumsy!” she said as she gripped the finger she had sliced open with her knife. “Owww! Ewww, I hate blood!” she said, wincing as blood spilled onto the white cutting board. Calmly and slowly, Arielle set her garlic crusher down on the counter and took Lucia’s cut hand in hers, looking her deep in the eyes as she brought her lips to the gaping wound.

  “What are you doing?” asked Lucia. “That’s, um, yuc
k, no--” but before she could protest anymore, Arielle let go of her hand, pulled away and went quietly back to her garlic crushing. Lucia, unsure of what just happened, looked down at the finger that had only moments ago throbbed in stinging pain, and could feel nothing out of the ordinary. She inspected the wound, and found nothing but perfect, normal skin on her perfect, unsliced finger. This confused her greatly, as there was still a small pool of blood on the cutting board, but the wound no longer existed on her hand. She began to ask Arielle “How did you-” but she stopped short and abandoned the query. Arielle, who just smiled at her sweetly and unassumingly from the island counter, would not have been able to answer her anyway.

  That evening, the whole family gathered in the sunroom to hear Arielle breathe more life back into the long-forgotten strings of the harp. Demetra was thrilled; she wasn’t old enough to remember Dagmara and her grandmother ever playing but the harp had been in the home even longer than she had. Cliff vibed along, Ava smiled a very reserved smile and sat still, fighting tears from welling up. Lucia closed her eyes and lost herself in the melodies, feeling happier than she had in a long time, feeling like somehow, her family was complete again in a way it hadn’t been in many years. Gabriel looked around the room and his heart warmed at the old, familiar scene. In this light and to this tune, he finally realized how much Arielle really did resemble the twin sister he missed so much.

  After three songs and an encore, they all took to the beach for a game of three-on-three ultimate Frisbee. Now that there were six of them, games like this were possible.

  “Now Arielle, before I teach you the finer points of disc throwing, it’s important that you know Meaty and I have been practicing pretty much since she could walk so don’t feel bad if you’re our weakest link at first,” said Gabriel as he flicked the red Frisbee from his wrist towards his sister.

  “Yeah, and tossing a few wobblers is par for the course;” said Demetra as she leapt into its path and caught it between her legs. “So don’t feel sucky and unskilled if your tosses don’t slice as gorgeously as ours.” Demetra sent it neatly back towards her brother, who waited ‘til it was past him to pluck it from the air, then spun around to toss it at Arielle.