by C. B. Lee
“That’s so cool. Do selkies have names for everything?” An elaborate world map is displayed on the wall, and Kevin brushes the familiar outline of California with his fingers, moving up the coast.
“Yes, they aren’t the same as how humans name places.” Morgan’s hand covers Kevin’s as they trace together. “California… Oregon…Vancouver… Alaska.” He smiles at Kevin. “Our names have more to do with one specific location: a herd’s winter home or a landmark for guiding a journey. There’s an outcropping of rock here we call the Whale’s Tail, and this is Kevin’s Nose.”
“What? Where?”
Morgan taps him on the nose. It’s so quick that it takes Kevin a moment before he realizes what just happened and then bursts out in surprised laughter.
It’s the best relationship Kevin’s ever had. Well, technically, the only relationship. Kevin can’t believe he used to count what he had with Miles as anything other than Miles using him.
That brief affair now seems like a lifetime ago: The way Kevin hung onto Miles’ every word, how he was always waiting for more, rereading text messages over and over, searching for hidden meanings. Miles was only ever interested in hooking up, and Kevin was so quick to mistake that casual intimacy for actual affection. Sure, it was thrilling, making out with another person, and feeling attractive for once. But Miles ran hot and cold, eagerly touching him in the secrecy of Miles’ bedroom, but ignoring him at school.
Miles wanted more, too. When Kevin, as a joke, showed him the supplies his parents had gotten him, Miles lit up and said, “Condoms, awesome. We can have sex now.”
Kevin faltered, stumbling over his words, trying to explain that he wasn’t ready—maybe when they’d been a relationship longer; after all, they’d only started figuring out how to get each other off, and he was just getting comfortable with the idea of orgasms with a partner in general.
Miles shrugged. “Whatever, just tell me when you’re done waiting so we can screw.”
His blunt and casual attitude took Kevin aback, and at the time he felt guilty for his own preferences, for wanting to wait. He researched the mechanics in depth, figured it would be intense and probably difficult, not something he wanted to rush into. But Miles wanted to, so Kevin decided maybe he should just go along with it. Otherwise Miles would think Kevin didn’t like him as much.
Kevin is so glad Miles broke off their stupid arrangement before they had sex.
It’s a good thing, because it wasn’t a relationship at all.
With Morgan, Kevin has a best friend whom he can laugh with at movies, introduce to the entirety of the Star Wars trilogy, and a boyfriend whom he can cuddle and kiss and admire. Even studying is fun with Morgan propped up on Kevin’s bed, quizzing him on SAT words with flashcards, sticking his tongue out as he sounds out difficult words, rewarding him with kisses when he gets the definitions right.
Teaching Morgan things about human culture is fun, too, and he takes to everything enthusiastically. Now that his secret is out, Morgan has no problem asking Kevin to explain anything and everything.
They’re sprawled out on Kevin’s bed, headphones split between them, listening to Kevin’s iPod. Morgan giggles as Kevin nods his head to the music. “We do this too,” Morgan says. “We have songs that tell stories of our people, songs for fun, songs about love.” He tilts his head, bemused, listening to the song. “They’re singing incredibly fast. I can’t understand what they’re saying. It is fun, though.”
“Oh, I have lots of slower things. Here, listen.”
Kevin takes the iPod, switches it to his “relaxing” playlist and puts it on shuffle. The first song is Bobby Darin’s “Somewhere Beyond the Sea,” and Kevin starts humming along, bumping Morgan’s shoulder playfully.
Morgan listens thoughtfully, a smile on his face, bumping Kevin back. “This one is quite lovely,” he says. “The man is hopeful, waiting for his love so they can be together again.”
“Want to listen again?”
Morgan nods, and Kevin restarts the song, watching Morgan close his eyes as he listens, enraptured. Kevin wants to memorize the soft curve of his cheek, that subtle smile on his face, the freckles that dance across his nose and cheeks. It’s a sweet, contented moment, and he wants to remember exactly how it is right now: one of Morgan’s feet idly rubbing against Kevin’s in a steady rhythm, the quiet calm of the room, the pleasant jazz music flowing through the shared headphones, the split cord swaying as Morgan and Kevin nod their heads to the beat.
Kevin hums along with the chorus, and then Morgan surprises him when he starts to sing in a clear, buoyant voice. “We’ll meet beyond the shore…” Morgan sings. His voice seems to fill the room, resonating, warm and bright, and Kevin listens, transfixed, as Morgan finishes the song. If he thought Morgan’s normal speaking voice was pleasant and melodious, this is on another level. It seems almost tangible, as if Kevin can feel the hope and longing in the melody touch his skin, feel the emotions seeping into him.
Kevin is silent after the song is over, and he turns off the iPod before it can play another song. “That was beautiful,” he tells Morgan.
“Thank you,” Morgan says, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve never—I mean, I always thought I was the worst singer in the herd. My cousin Micah says it’s because I’m a halfling.”
Kevin furrows his brow.
“My father is human.” Morgan’s tone is carefully light, but he’s watching Kevin, as if waiting for a reaction.
“Okay.” Kevin isn’t sure if this is a sensitive issue among selkies. He’s reminded of the way he used to feel as a kid when his mom picked him up from school and the other students made comments about them not being the same race, asking if she was his evil stepmother, if she was going to give him mixed little brothers and sisters. Kevin knows there’s nothing wrong with having a mixed heritage; if he had younger siblings he would love them just the same. “Well, I think you are an amazing singer. Your cousin sounds like an idiot.”
Morgan leans closer, whispering conspiratorially, “One time before he was mated, Micah was trying to impress a selkie from another herd when we were passing by a territory much farther north. He was unaccustomed to the ice versus the sand, and when he was shuffling up to say hello to her, he completely lost his balance and fell on his face.”
Kevin laughs with Morgan, imagining a smug-looking seal slipping on the ice in front of his crush.
“He’s actually not that great a singer, himself,” Morgan says, visibly cheered. “Everyone knows my sister Naida has the best voice in the herd.”
Kevin thinks about the strange, magical way Morgan’s voice seemed to touch his skin. “Hey, are all of you—when you sing, do you—is it like, magic?”
Morgan looks at him. “What do you mean?”
“Like, you know how… Okay, so humans have lots of stories of how mermaids sing, like, these magical songs to lure sailors to their deaths.”
Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, some selkies have stories of how humans roll around in the mud all day long, but obviously that isn’t true.”
Kevin colors in embarrassment. “I didn’t know. Well, you’re obviously supernatural; I just didn’t know if there were other types of… I dunno.” He shrugs awkwardly, picking at the slightly pilled duvet cover. It sucks when people ask questions based only on stories about your culture. Miles once came for dinner, and brought his own fork out at the table and smiled at the Luongs as if he should be patted on the back for assuming they wouldn’t have forks.
“Stop being so sensitive. I just wanted to make sure I could eat,” Miles said during the ensuing fight. That was dumb too, that Kevin had to explain why he was mad.
Kevin takes a deep breath and lets go of the blanket. I should have thought before I blurted out that dumb mermaid comment. “I’m sorry,” Kevin says, reaching out to Morgan.
Morgan takes his hand and strokes his thumb slowly acro
ss the back of his hand. “It is all right. I know why you would have thought so.”
Morgan starts singing again, and this time it’s not in any language Kevin understands. The words have a haunting lilt, echoing in the room. It’s beautiful, and again Kevin can feel the music touching his skin, and he feels filled with sorrow in a way he can’t explain.
The song finishes with a soft note that hangs in the air, and Morgan gives Kevin a sad little smile. The despondent feeling passes, and Kevin knows he doesn’t need to cry, even though he can feel the tears pricking at his eyes. “What was that?” Kevin asks, his voice caught in his throat.
“That was the story of Danilae. She lived many, many years ago. She was not a selkie, but a merrow. Distant cousins of ours.” He speaks slowly and evenly, as if he is used to the cadence of storytelling. “Danilae loved a human, a merchant sailor, who often sailed through the treacherous waters near the cove where she lived. They met on the cove when he could steal time away from his busy route, but it was not often. Then there was a terrible storm, one that smashed his boat to smithereens.”
Kevin squeezes Morgan’s hand, watching the way Morgan’s face tightens with an old sorrow. Kevin’s sure from the tone of the song this story isn’t going to end well. Morgan squeezes back and continues with his story.
“Danilae was injured, struck by a piece of driftwood that gored her tail, and she could not swim to help him. Cast off the boat, desperately trying to swim to safety, her lover was unable to see through the storm. Danilae sang to him in hope of guiding him to shore, but it was to no avail.”
Kevin’s face falls. “Oh no. Did they…”
Morgan looks away. “They both died that day. I’m fairly certain this is the tale that inspired the one you know about mermaids, as you call them. The way my mother tells the story—she’s quitegood at it—it takes a few hours, and by the end everyone is crying.” He shakes his head. “I’m certain that a number of sailors on that boat survived to tell the tale of the music they heard, and the bewitching creature that sang as their captain drowned. Tales get exaggerated as they are passed down from generation to generation. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know of the story. Merrows are a solitary bunch; I’ve never met one, and, as my mother tells me, they’ve been hunted nearly to extinction.”
“Hunted? You mean there are people who deliberately go out to—”
“Yes. I don’t know how persistent it still is, but there are still zealous groups of hunters. We’ve always been taught to be careful of them. My older sister spent a year on land trying to locate the dangerous ones and to learn more about them, after members of other herds went missing. One selkie managed to escape, but he told a terrifying tale of a group that held him captive, attempting to study him. I think they were planning to kill him eventually, cut him open to find out how his magic worked.”
Kevin curls protectively around Morgan, holding him tight. He can tell Morgan’s trying to talk calmly, to convince Kevin, or himself, that this doesn’t scare him at all, but Kevin can see it’s more than a bit unnerving. “Hey. It’ll be okay. I’m not ever going to tell anyone about you. You’ll be safe.”
He kisses Morgan on the forehead. Morgan closes his eyes, sighs and lets Kevin pull him close.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea—have you ever heard of a blanket fort?”
Morgan shakes his head, and Kevin lights up. “This is going to be great. Come on.”
He gets off the bed, motioning for Morgan to join him. Kevin grabs the spare blankets from his closet and the nylon rope he has for this very purpose. Morgan is helpful, paying attention to Kevin’s instructions. The rope is tied between various curtain rods and the closet door, and then blankets are thrown over it until they have a tent-like structure.
“And the final touch,” Kevin says, grabbing the coil of old Christmas tree lights from his closet. He strings it along the interior of the blanket fort, then plugs it in.
Kevin holds the flap of blanket open for Morgan, gives him a little bow and says, “After you.” Morgan grins, climbs inside and then gasps.
Kevin smiles proudly to himself and crawls in after Morgan. The bed has been transformed into a cozy space, illuminated by dozens of little lights, with blankets hanging around them like soft curtains. “I’m going to get my laptop and we can watch a movie or something.”
Morgan grabs his hand before he can leave. “Wait.” He pulls Kevin close for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet, and Morgan is smiling against his lips.
It’s perfect, and Kevin wants to live inside this moment forever.
Ten.
Kevin is extra excited today when he answers the door. His mood is infectious, and Morgan immediately grins back at him. He moves to step into the house, but Kevin races past him, grabbing his hand.
“I thought you wanted to show me the saga of Mr. Indiana Jones and his three quests today,” Morgan says, as Kevin pulls him outside his house and shuts his front door behind them.
“Change of plans. Ann decided last minute to go to San Francisco with her friends, and they picked her up, so the car is all mine for the entire weekend!” Kevin dangles a set of keys, which glint in the morning light.
“Okay.” Morgan follows Kevin to the car. He’s gotten over his initial awe at human ingenuity. It’s almost the equivalent of swimming in a faster current, letting it take you farther than you can go with your own fins.
“I want to show you around! We can drive down to SLO—”
“Slow?” Morgan scrunches up his face. “I thought the last time you were telling me about cars it was about what a great driver you are, how fast you could go—”
Kevin laughs as they get into the vehicle. “No, sorry, I meant S, L, O, for San Luis Obispo. It’s a much bigger city than Piedras Blancas, with lots of people and stores and buildings. I figure we’ve seen everything in town and San Simeon, too. Cambria is bigger, but I figure we could just go for it. Morro Bay’s really pretty and we could definitely stop there, too, but you’ve seen lots of bays and rocks, huh?”
The car roars to life, like a beast awakening from its slumber, and Kevin taps the pink stuffed creature that hangs from the rearview mirror. “I’m sure wherever you want to take me will be excellent,” Morgan says.
Kevin grins at him, takes his hand and squeezes it.
“This is the Pacific Coast Highway!” Kevin shouts joyfully into the wind. “And you know the Pacific, of course!” Kevin gestures wildly out the window at the water.
Morgan grins at the human name for this part of the ocean. It still amuses him how they separate themselves with borders and names for all their lands and waters, and he tells Kevin as much. He laughs and agrees, and says the world is a complicated, complicated thing.
They drive down the Pacific Coast Highway with the wind blowing through the open windows. From here on the cliffs, the ocean glitters, stretching blue and vast out into forever. Kevin’s iPod is hooked up and the display reads: “Morgan’s Playlist.” Morgan leans back in the seat, wondering when Kevin collected all his favorite songs. Bobby Darin is singing as the car follows the winding road down the coast, and Morgan thinks lazily, what a wonderful way to travel.
Looking out the window, Morgan’s home looks almost flat—a singular blue color, nothing but a surface. If he squints, he can make out specks that are surfers waiting for a wave, and in the distance a few ships. They look so small from here, so insignificant, compared to the way those monstrous vessels loom over the herd whenever they travel past.
Kevin is proud of his driving. He takes special care to let a faster car overtake them and then cut in front of them. “My dad was really particular about teaching me good driving manners.”
Morgan isn’t sure what the distinction between regular etiquette and driving etiquette is, but Kevin seems to be doing well operating a vehicle, so he nods.
San Luis Obispo is indeed much busier than Pi
edras Blancas or its neighbor to the south, San Simeon. The streets are filled with cars and shining buildings, and people walk everywhere. Kevin drives them to a crowded lot filled with even more cars of every shape and color, and he scowls in frustration, driving around and around the area, until finally he calls out in triumph and pulls the car to rest amongst all its brethren.
“What is this place?”
“Are you ready for this?” Kevin says. “This is a mall.” He throws his arms out theatrically, and Morgan’s eyes widen. They walk into the large building, which is teeming with people and color and sounds. Morgan knows what a store is; he’s seen them in Piedras Blancas, and he knows the places to purchase foods are restaurants, but there are so many here, selling so many different things.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Kevin grins at Morgan’s stunned reaction. “Hey, I’ve been saving my allowance—I want to get you some new clothes. Come on.”
Kevin leads him into a bright store filled with many adornments that the humans wear—different fabrics and colors and shapes and sizes. He goes through the racks until his arms are full of clothes, then pushes Morgan toward the small rooms at the back.
Morgan hesitates, touching the worn sweatshirt of Kevin’s. He knows it’s not his actual skin, but he’s come to love wearing it. It’s soft and comfortable and it was Kevin’s, and he gave it to him. His shorts he doesn’t have any feelings toward—they’re just to cover his body. Morgan still doesn’t understand the human need for so many different layers, but he can respect the desire to appear different, to stand out.
“Hey, I’m not asking you to get rid of the sweater,” Kevin says softly, stepping into the changing room with him.
It’s a little cramped for two people, and Morgan stares at his reflection and Kevin’s as Kevin slings his arms around him. “You always wear the same things, and I know we’ve washed them a few times, but I thought you might want to try something new and change things up.”
Morgan smiles at him in relief. “Okay.” He shrugs out of the sweater, folds it carefully and places it on the bench.