Seven Tears at High Tide

by C. B. Lee

  “They’re so cute and chubby.” Kevin gestured at the illustration. “Not as cute as you, though,” he added, touching Morgan’s soft cheek and then kissing him soundly on the lips. Morgan kissed back delightedly. Kevin’s lips were soft and warm, and Morgan just learned a clever thing to do with his tongue that would coax a happy little noise from Kevin. It was perfect, right there on the bluffs, with the wind blowing in their hair, the cool, crisp sea air and the view of the ocean stretching out for miles.

  At least until they were interrupted by a gruff voice. “You’re blocking the sign, you two.”

  Morgan and Kevin sprang apart and backed away. The owner of the voice was a grimy man with unkempt hair, wearing clothes splattered with fish scales and flecks of grease. His skin was dry and chapped, cheeks pink from many years in the sun. He might have been handsome once, despite the wild gray-peppered beard, but he had the look of a man who had stopped caring about his appearance long ago. “Seals,” the man muttered, stepping up to the exhibit sign and scowling at it. He spat at the ground.

  “You’re Jenners’ and Luong’s kid, aren’t you?” the man asked, jerking his head at Kevin.

  “Yes,” Kevin said, narrowing his eyes and stepping in front of Morgan.

  “Who’s this, then? Never seen you round these parts before a few weeks ago. Not a tourist, either. You’ve been here too long for that.”

  “I’m Morgan.” He offered his hand for the man to shake, because that was what he’d learned humans did when they met. The man only stared at him unflinchingly, frowning at Morgan’s face as if it offended him somehow.

  “My boyfriend,” Kevin announced, taking Morgan’s hand and squeezing it. “He’s visiting for the summer.”

  “Summer love, eh.” The man kicked a loose rock over the edge of the cliff. It bounced down the bluff to hit the water far below. “I loved someone, once. They always leave you in the end.”

  “C’mon, let’s go,” Kevin whispered. He tugged Morgan’s hand, and they backed away from the stranger.

  Touched by the man’s apparent sadness, Morgan wanted to hear more, but Kevin’s lips were pressed in a thin line, and he’d rolled his eyes at the story.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Kevin whispered. “He’s just Old Man Floyd. Apparently he used to be a really good fisherman, but then his wife left or something and now he’s drunk all the time and tells sad stories to anyone who will listen.”

  Kevin’s voice must have carried, because Floyd turned abruptly. “She didn’t leave!” Floyd said, eyes glittering. “She was stolen from me! Stolen by the Sea!”

  Something about the way he said it made Morgan pause. Surely the heartbroken fisherman meant the sea, the way humans referred in general to their ocean as the mundane, passive thing they thought it was, not the terrible and beautiful Sea filled with magic and mystery.

  Morgan quickly forgot about the man and his ranting, though, since he was distracted by Kevin’s smile, his soft, brown eyes and the way Kevin ran ahead along the trail and let Morgan chase him. Morgan thought it was a game similar to one he had played as a child with his siblings and cousins, and ran into Kevin, head butting him. It didn’t work out as well on land as it did in water, and they both tumbled to the ground.

  Kevin laughed, though, with dirt smudged on his cheek, and then he kissed Morgan again. He tasted of iron and salt.

  There’s much of the park to explore, and one memorable afternoon Kevin took him to a bridge near the Washburn camp­ground, a rickety old wooden walkway that cut through the trees above an expanse of green. They held hands as they walked along the path and stopped on the bridge to watch the wind flutter through the leaves. It was soft and quiet there, and Morgan wanted to tell Kevin about swimming through kelp forests, watching the sunlight filter through the tall stalks of seaweed. There was a lot he wanted to tell him, but Morgan settled for enjoying the moment.

  And there are a lot of moments.

  With Naida’s help, Morgan figures out a reasonable schedule for someone living “a bit north” of Piedras Blancas, who might get dropped off in town to spend time with his boyfriend. Naida even helps him invent a story about his “human” family and not having enough money for him to have his own cell phone. When Kevin asks for his number, Morgan has this explanation ready, but doesn’t get further than saying he doesn’t have one; Kevin just nods and moves past the subject.

  Morgan doesn’t come to Kevin’s house every day. He spends his nights swimming back to his family’s beach, then telling anyone and everyone who will listen about his and Kevin’s adventures, how amazing it all is. He sleeps in a close pile of his brothers and sisters, and wakes at dawn to swim back to Piedras Blancas. He stashes his sealskin in the cave, then walks to Kevin’s house.

  They usually go for a hike in the morning, either up on the cliffs or down by the shore, and then eat lunch, something Kevin puts together in his home. Morgan feels a little guilty about eating so much of his food, but when he offered to bring Kevin another food gift, Kevin laughed and said, “That fish you brought last time was amazing, but I don’t think my mom will let my dad deep fry anything else for months. Don’t worry about it.”

  Apparently that also meant Kevin noticing when Morgan dis­covered sour cream and onion-flavored potato chips. The salty greasy chips are his favorite snack when he and Kevin watch movies. Morgan found five bags in Kevin’s room one day and was so overcome with joy he sank to the floor, hugging all the chips to his chest.

  “They’re just chips,” Kevin said, popping open the bag and casually offering it to Morgan.

  He’s not visiting Kevin today, but Morgan’s thoughts are with him. He wants to do something for Kevin, give him another kind of present.

  Kevin loves rocks. Morgan swims toward the shore, the begin­nings of an idea pulling him forward.

  He shifts, stashes his pelt in the cave as usual, pulls on the sweatshirt and shorts and makes his way to the area where Kevin and he collected rocks before.

  Morgan picks up rock after rock, thinking about Kevin’s collection displayed on the bookshelf in his room, and tries his best to find ones he will find interesting—sparkling colors, minerals whose names he doesn’t remember, but he knows Kevin will admire. He fills the pocket of the sweatshirt with as many rocks as he can. He finds a few pieces of the green stone that Kevin liked, none as large or clear as the piece he found on their first outing, but he hopes these pieces will make him smile.

  Kevin likes the strange ones, too. What if I can find him some rocks from the ocean floor—surely those will be especially interesting?

  Morgan ambles back to the cave, humming happily. He places all the rocks in a secure spot next to his boulder, then reaches for his pelt.

  He can’t feel the soft fur behind the rock. Frowning, he tries again, feeling all around the boulder, but there’s nothing but cold stone under his hands.

  It’s gone.

  Seven.

  Morgan hasn’t shown up today to hang out, and Kevin is frustrated because he doesn’t have a number so he can text him to see if he’s okay. Morgan shows up every other day or so, and they’ve hung out together so much that Kevin didn’t remember he had no way to reach Morgan. Kevin’s surprised how quickly the days have gone by; he’s been having such a good time.

  He’s determined to entertain himself today, though. Something prickles at the back of his mind, and he wants to resolve a mystery. He and Morgan never found the time to hike back to the cave since that first day, and Kevin wants to know if that thing is still there.

  Kevin hikes to the shore, minding his feet. The wind is strong enough to toss his hair back and forth, and the salty air nips at his cheeks. It’s the beginning of low tide; he has plenty of time before the cave is flooded. He ducks into the cave, ignoring the tingling undercurrent of fear at the base of this skull, convincing himself it’ll be an exciting adventure. The wind whistles sharply
as it winds around the dark curves of the cavern, nudging Kevin deeper inside. The sand is cold beneath his feet, and the cave seems much more ominous now that he’s by himself.

  Kevin finds the boulder, but when he reaches around the back of it, he finds only the cold surface of the rock. There’s still something odd about this place, with its dredged-up seaweed splayed out on the damp sand, indicating a recent tide—and a large piece of kelp, which should have been caught by the rocks at the front of the cave.

  Kevin follows the strand of kelp to the back of the cave and notices one boulder is damper than the others, even though they all would have been touched by the tide at the same time. He feels behind this boulder and, sure enough, there it is. He pulls it out carefully, examining it in his hands. It’s fur, soft and damp with seawater. It’s awfully pretty, and Kevin wonders how it got there. It looks like a seal pelt with a pretty, dappled, vaguely familiar pattern of grays.

  Kevin brushes the fur gently. It feels nice in his hands, as if he’s floating on his back in the ocean with the waves lifting him up and passing him by. He wants to keep holding it. How did it get under that rock? Why wasn’t it washed away when the tide came in?

  He tucks the pelt into his backpack and gives it a reassuring pat. It’s a comforting weight the entire walk home.

  Kevin has something interesting to look forward to as he sits through dinner, listening idly to his parents talking about their research and his sister sulking about having to go all the way to Cambria for a movie theater. He finishes early, washes his dishes and then heads upstairs to his bedroom.

  He takes the pelt out of his backpack, spreads it out on his bed, runs his hands along the speckled pattern and marvels at how soft it is. He gives it another pat before opening his laptop to research pelts. After a few minutes online, Kevin can only conclude that it can’t be from any other animal. The pattern of the spots reminds him of the playful seal he met at the pier. He hopes it’s not the same pelt, and that the seal from that morning is alive and happy, eating tons of fish, swimming around somewhere.

  * * *

  Morgan doesn’t show up the next day, either, and Kevin’s more than a little worried. Morgan’s family is in the area for the summer, but he doesn’t live in town; he gets dropped off somewhere in town or at the beach whenever they hang out—

  Maybe Morgan’s at the beach.

  As Kevin walks, the possibilities get more and more intense: What if Morgan’s family decided to go back home already? And he didn’t even get to say goodbye? Or what if Morgan’s been in a car accident or something and Kevin doesn’t know?

  It’s almost dark; most of the tourists are gone. The lifeguard tower is closed, no Sally in sight. Kevin can see two girls in the distance, trying to take pictures of each other in the rapidly sinking sunset.

  He spots a figure pacing frantically back and forth at the base of the pier; the orange shorts are glaringly obvious.

  “Morgan!” Kevin calls out.

  Morgan’s head snaps up, and he’s frowning. Kevin’s only ever seen him in a sunny mood; it’s jarring how distraught he looks with his brows furrowed and jaw tense. Kevin rushes to Morgan’s side. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “It’s gone, it’s gone, I can’t find it,” Morgan says, clutching his hair.

  “Shh, calm down.” Kevin recognizes the beginning stages of panic. He grabs Morgan’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. Morgan’s wearing Kevin’s sweater again, and while part of Kevin is warm and happy about Morgan wearing his clothes the feeling is overshadowed by worry. “It’s going to be okay. What’s gone? Did you leave something on the beach?”

  “Yeah, it’s my…” Morgan starts, and then trails off, lip wob­bling. Tears well up in his eyes. “I’ve been looking all day, and it’s not anywhere—”

  “Look, whatever it is, we can get you a new one.” Kevin rubs Morgan’s back comfortingly, holding him close. “I can help, if you don’t have, um…”

  Kevin sighs, presses a kiss to Morgan’s forehead and tries to figure out an easy way to talk about what’s obviously a money issue.

  “No, this isn’t something that can be replaced.” Morgan wrenches himself out of Kevin’s arms. He seems utterly broken and devastated, and tears stream down his cheeks. “I can’t go home without it.”

  “All right, I’ll help,” Kevin says. “What does it look like?”

  Morgan glances at his feet and sighs. “It’s… like a seal pelt. Black and gray.” His voice seems to shrink, getting smaller, as if he wants to disappear into the sand.

  “Oh! I have seen one, actually. It was in that cave, near where we’ve collected rocks.”

  Morgan looks up, raising his eyebrow. “Yeah… that’s mine,” he says slowly.

  Kevin grins, pleased to have solved the apparent problem. “Don’t worry about it! I have it. It’s back at my house. I didn’t want it to get washed away in the tide, so I took it with me.” He holds out his hand, expecting Morgan to take it so they can go back to his house and Kevin can return it to him.

  Morgan goes unnaturally still.

  “It’s very pretty,” Kevin says, not understanding the reaction. Isn’t it supposed to be a good thing that Kevin found it? He’s not even asking Morgan to explain why he can’t go home without a seal pelt. Maybe it’s very rare and valuable, and his parents would be upset if he lost it. It still doesn’t make sense that Morgan was storing it in a cave, especially one that fills up with saltwater at high tide. But Kevin has had a strange feeling ever since he touched it that the sealskin is alive somehow, and wouldn’t be ruined by saltwater.

  Morgan stands up a little taller. “So this is it then. You want me to be yours forever?” His voice is heavy with the question.

  Kevin blinks. “What? We just started dating. I didn’t think we needed to talk about this right away! You’re your own person, anyway; I don’t think someone can belong to anyone else, no matter how much you care about them. I just wanted to give your thing back to you.”

  Morgan takes a deep breath and the strange, tight posture relaxes into his normal stance. “You want to give it back?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Morgan takes his hand and squeezes it. His smile is grateful, but Kevin doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve the awed look in Morgan’s eyes. He squeezes Morgan’s hand and kisses him softly on the cheek.

  They hold hands all the way back to Kevin’s house. Morgan sneaks careful glances at him the entire walk, and fondness softens his face. Morgan’s always telling Kevin that he loves him, but right now it’s obvious that he actually does. He squeezes Morgan’s hand in return and is lost in his own thoughts for a while, wondering what Morgan thinks when he never says it back. Morgan knows Kevin likes him a lot, that’s for sure, but love…

  Kevin sneaks Morgan into the house by the back door. He doesn’t want to deal with questions right now, or anyone teasing them. No one notices them tiptoe upstairs—Ann is too engrossed by the television and his parents are discussing something excitedly; the white­board has been wheeled into the living room and has various formulae scribbled on it and several technical books are open and scattered across the dining table.

  Kevin shuts his door carefully. He pushes past his clothes to the back of his closet and takes out the pelt.

  “Here you go.” Kevin hands it to Morgan, who takes the pelt with a reverent, breathy gasp. “Did you say it’s like a seal pelt?” he asks carefully, remembering what Morgan said on the beach.

  Morgan clutches the pelt to his chest. He stands lightly on the balls of his feet with a bright, luminous smile on his face. “I can show you. Come on.”

  Kevin groans. They just snuck in, and now they’re sneaking out again? He was hoping to ask if Morgan might want to cuddle and make out for a while, maybe even stay over, fall asleep together.

  Kevin grabs Morgan’s arm. “Hold on, don’t go stomping o
ut there unless you want my parents throwing condoms at us and making the most awkward jokes. What are you showing me? I’ve got my laptop and the entirety of the Internet right here. I think you could find anything you wanted to show me, you know, in the comfort of my room. Where we are, together. And no one knows you’re here yet, so.” He waggles his eyebrows hopefully at Morgan.

  “It’s not on your Inner Net.” Morgan shakes his head. “I really want to share this with you, Kevin.” Something about the way he’s holding himself, standing in Kevin’s bedroom self-consciously, sin­cere brown eyes looking up hopefully him, makes Kevin’s stomach flutter.

  “All right, let’s go.” Warmth blooms inside him when he sees Morgan smile from ear to ear.

  They creep out slowly and quietly, and when the back door shuts Kevin sighs with relief. “Okay now, where are we going?”

  “Back to the ocean!”

  “Really, we just came from there,” Kevin says, but fol­lows Morgan anyway. Whatever it is, Morgan is excited about it; his pace quickens to a jog. Kevin huffs along, all the way to the beach.

  The sky, caught in that nebulous time after sunset, still glows with the energy of the day, and the heavy velvet of night has yet to fall upon them. A few stars gleam through the purple twilight, as if they were too impatient to wait until dark to shine. Morgan races all the way to the water, throwing back a few looks every now and then to see if Kevin is still following him. In the distance, the silhouettes of the boats at the docks shift rhythmically with the waves. The air prickles with electricity, and the ocean seems to churn in anticipation.

  Morgan shucks off the sweatshirt and shorts before Kevin can even make an embarrassed noise. He’s naked now, pale and ethereal in the moonlight, and Kevin stops where he’s standing with his mouth hanging open.