by C. B. Lee
The next morning, Kevin has something to show him.
“It took me forever, but I got it. My parents didn’t know anyone in town named Richard, so I had to resort to the Internet, and no number of keywords with Piedras Blancas or California and Richard or fishing turned up anything useful. But then Ann was going to the Cambria Public Library to return her books, so I hitched a ride, and I talked to this nice lady about microfilm and newspapers, and I found this!”
Kevin brandishes a piece of paper at him so excitedly that Morgan can’t tell what’s on it until Kevin calms down and lets him look properly. It’s a copy of an issue of the Piedras Blancas Gazette, from about twenty years ago. There’s a photograph of a young man with broad shoulders and a happy smile, proudly holding a huge flounder aloft. “The Pride of Piedras Blancas,” Morgan reads slowly. “Cal Poly biology graduate student Richard S. Floyd set a state record yesterday, catching a twelve pound starry flounder during the Annual Western Outdoor Fishing Tournament.”
“I can’t believe it’s him,” Kevin says, shaking his head at the photo. “I always thought he was weird. I’m sorry if that’s mean. I feel bad for thinking your dad was weird, now.”
“It’s okay.”
Morgan studies the photo. Floyd’s handsome, full of life and beaming at the camera. Morgan thinks about the time he and Kevin ran into him at the park. Time has not been kind to him.
“I asked my dad about Old Man Floyd, and he says he lives past the lighthouse. Do you want me to go with you?”
Morgan shakes his head. This is something he has to do on his own.
Kevin also thoughtfully prepared him a map of where Floyd lives, on the outskirts of town. It isn’t difficult to walk there. The warm sun beats down on Morgan’s skin, and he hears the laughter of tourists making their way through town, snapping photos of the seals on the beach. Morgan passes them by, watching the families smile and walk, wondering if this is a small respite from their own busy lives and if any of them have ever had to make a choice like his.
“Hey, you live here, right?” a girl asks him. Her friends watch from a few steps away.
Morgan is caught up in the question, thinking about where he lives. It’s a human concept, one he’s always thought strange: home as a concrete place. He’s sure if he’d ever been asked this before, his answer would have been, No, I live in the Sea, but that’s not completely right. Home is the waves, his family swimming beside him as he hunts for fish, the sparkling water and the hidden depths, forests of kelp swaying gently in the current. But home is also Kevin’s smile, the way he cuddles up next to him in Kevin’s bed, watching movies; it’s the colorful rocks on the trail in the state park, the dazzling cliffs and the beaches.
“Do you know a good place to eat?” she presses on, jolting Morgan out of his thoughts.
“Yes.” Morgan gives her directions to the cafe he and Kevin once visited, so long ago. “They have fish and chips, and sandwiches too. The French fries are good.”
“Thank you!”
Morgan can hear her talk to her friends as he continues to walk and wistfully imagines their lives for today: spending time together; enjoying the sights; going out to eat. Here he is, about to talk with a father he’s never met in hopes of getting insight into a decision that will change the rest of his life. The sunny day and jovial tourists do little to change Morgan’s dark mood.
When he reaches the outskirts of town, he follows an unkempt trail to a dilapidated house. He supposes it could have been a beautiful little cottage overlooking the sea, with a lovely view of the Moon’s Eye, or the lighthouse, as Kevin calls it. The house looks terribly lonely, with faded blue paint peeling off the shutters and long-dead roses still standing by the path. If Morgan didn’t know someone lived here, he would guess it was abandoned.
Morgan sighs, pockets the map and raises his hand to knock.
The door swings open before his fist meets the surface, and a grizzled man with a dark beard coarse with gray hairs peers out at Morgan.
“I don’t want to buy anything,” he says, scowling.
“That’s not why I’m here. You are Richard S. Floyd?”
“Yes.” Floyd narrows his eyes. “What’s this about?”
“I am your son,” Morgan says, with more calm than he knew he had. “May I come in?”
“You look like her, you know.” Floyd gives Morgan a scrutinizing once over. “Can you—are you like her? Can you do the thing?” He waves his hand in a vague gesture.
“I am a shape-shifter, yes, if that’s what you’re asking,” Morgan says flatly. He’s beginning to wonder if this was a mistake, coming here. Floyd takes the news readily, needing no more than Morgan’s brief explanation. The description of Linneth and their lives is enough. It seems Floyd is hungry for someone, anyone, from that world to confirm what he has believed all along.
Floyd’s house is small and cramped, filled with knickknacks, and smells strongly of fish. Yellowing photographs cut from newspapers hang on the wall, picturing Floyd in his youth, handsome and striking, standing proudly and holding aloft various large fish.
“Why are you here? Did Linneth send you?”
“I just found out. And, no. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
“She’s… here, then? Close by?” The question lingers in his eyes, which sparkle with desperate hope.
“I don’t know if she wants to see you or not. We’ve never summered in this area.”
It’s a half-truth, but Floyd doesn’t need to know that. He seems too keen to know his mother’s whereabouts, and if there’s anything Morgan has learned from all the movies he’s watched with Kevin, it’s that having a bargaining chip can be helpful. His mother said she would want to talk to him, if Morgan chose to be human, but giving Floyd this information now might change his mood and make him utterly unhelpful. From what Morgan remembers of their one encounter on the beach, he is impulsive, quick to anger, and Morgan doesn’t want to leave here without answers.
“Look, kid—”
“My name is Morgan.”
Floyd jerks forward; his hand reaches out as if he wants to touch Morgan’s face, to see if he’s real.
“That was my father’s name. I didn’t know if she—” He laughs to himself, but it’s a dry, mirthless, hollow thing. “For years after, I wondered if that time with her was a dream. We were happy. And then one day she was gone, just like that. I always wondered what had happened, if she had the baby, if the two of you were out there somewhere. Or if something worse…”
Floyd hangs his head in shame. He pulls out a photo from a drawer in the rickety desk in the corner: a cracked thing, well-handled over the years, stained, probably by tears. In the photo a younger Floyd stands with his arm around Linneth, grinning at the camera. Linneth is blurry, caught in the middle of a moment, head tilted back in laughter, looking not at the camera but at Floyd. Morgan looks at the photo and shakes his head when Floyd offers it to him, and Floyd returns it to its spot in the drawer.
This bitter old man, hands dirty with grease, living in this cluttered hovel, is not the father Morgan imagined. He thought he was a handsome, dashing man who stole his mother’s heart, convinced her to stay with him and then selfishly tried to keep her for himself. Morgan thought he would be scary, maybe, like a villain out of an old story. That man was in a few of their family’s stories—none of the popular ones, since he always made his mother sad, but Morgan remembers his aunt singing one in particular, painting with her words a picture of a terrifying, selfish man, cruel and larger than life.
This man just seems sad. Morgan almost feels sorry for him.
“You tried to keep her,” Morgan accuses, and Floyd nods.
“I loved her. I knew she was pregnant when she left, I just—I didn’t know if you would turn out like me, or like her, or some combination of both. I knew all the stories, and I just wanted us to be happy. Like a
family. I would have tried my best, you know. To be a good father to you.”
Floyd reaches for Morgan again, and Morgan lets him hesitantly pat him on the shoulder.
“It was selfish, what you did. You hid her sealskin so she couldn’t return to her true form. After that, how could she trust you?”
Floyd’s eyes brim with tears. “I only wanted her to stay.”
“You should have asked,” Morgan replies coldly. “But we don’t have time to reminisce about the things you should or shouldn’t have done. I need your help.”
“I don’t have much money. You’re welcome to whatever I have. I don’t know what use any of it would be to you, under the Sea.”
It’s a small gesture, and Morgan wants to be grateful, but the desperate situation he’s in, not knowing what to do, fills him with so much frustration and anger that he stands up, fists clenching. He wants to lash out, to take every single knickknack in the house, throw them on the ground and break every last one of them into little pieces, then seize the trophies and photographs and throw them out the window.
But that won’t solve anything.
Floyd watches him, and if he notices the tears falling from Morgan’s eyes, he doesn’t say anything.
“It’s not fair,” Morgan says finally. “You—and my mother—you did this. And I can’t, I can’t be the way I am anymore, it’s this stupid magic—I just—”
The words tumble out of him, ugly, hot tears falling heavily down his front.
He tells Floyd everything.
At the end of the story, Floyd pulls from of his pocket a single white handkerchief, possibly the only clean thing in the house, and hands it to Morgan.
Morgan sniffles into it, wiping his tears.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Floyd says gently. “I didn’t know about this rule. I don’t think I would have pushed Lin for a baby if I’d known. Guess it makes sense now, why she didn’t want to at first.”
Morgan stares at him, thinking of his mother’s wistful staring out into the night sky, wanting a child for company, hoping for happiness in a difficult situation.
They sit in uncomfortable silence. Floyd doesn’t offer any more comments, or advice, or even an opinion on which choice is better. Morgan waits, but Floyd just looks at him with a mixture of disbelief and regret.
Finally, Floyd speaks up, voice cracked from disuse. “Glad to see you’re okay, been okay this summer, knowing what you are. Ain’t exactly safe for your kind right now hereabouts.”
“What, the hunters? We’ve known about them for ages. I’m the only one allowed on land for my Request; everyone else is to stay in the Sea.”
Floyd nods. “They’re not all a bad bunch, but there is one guy, Nathaniel, who’s always been set on catching one of you. He even tried to get me to come with, for old times’ sake.”
“You—you knew, wait—you were one of them? You hunt us and still—”
Floyd blinks at him. “It wasn’t like that. There are some who are overzealous, yes, but I was a scientist. We all were. Most of us were simply fascinated by the stories and the magic in the deep, or knew someone who knew someone who had a relative who had an encounter, and we would have been thrilled just to learn more. In more recent years, the pursuit has become less about knowledge and more of a hunt, if you will. I stopped associating with those fools after I met Lin. I realized they wanted more: to capture them, document proof and share it with the world. I dropped out of my graduate program, stopped traveling with them, settled down here and took up fishing.”
Floyd shuffles to a bookshelf in the corner and pulls out an old, leather-bound journal. He flips it open, showing Morgan detailed drawings, some familiar—selkies, merrows, a kraken—and some completely new to him, drawings of people who sprout fangs and fur. Morgan wonders if these are some of the beings Kevin talked about when he first told him he was a selkie.
“It doesn’t matter. The herd is leaving soon anyway,” Morgan says. “The summer is pretty much over, and after I choose…”
Floyd pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. “If you decide to be human. It sounds rough, not remembering anything. I don’t know how, but if I can help—in any way—I’ll try.”
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
“The least I could do. Missed out on being a father to you all these years. I could at least start now. I messed up with your mother, I know. I was afraid she wouldn’t want to stay. Who would give up the wonders of the Sea for me and my little house? But you’re right. I should have asked.”
He sighs, looking at his feet, and then squares his shoulders, as if he wants to start being fatherly right now. “Been seeing a lot of you on land, though, this summer. You still with—”
“Kevin,” Morgan says, a knot of worry forming in his gut.
“You care about him.”
“I love him.”
“Would you stay on land? For him?”
Morgan knows it’s not part of the Request, the question of him staying forever. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it, about what it would mean, getting to be with Kevin all the time instead of traveling south with the herd when the summer is over.
“I would,” Morgan says. “If he asked.”
Fifteen.
Kevin is in the kitchen gulping down a glass of orange juice. He grins when he sees the flyer for the county fair in San Luis Obispo pinned to the refrigerator. It’s the last day of the fair. He’s planned this just in time.
“Ann!” he yells. “I’m borrowing your car today, remember?”
His sister looks up from her seat in the living room, puts down her book and raises an eyebrow. “What, you’re not gonna go surfing with your boyfriend?”
“Come on, Ann, please, I really wanna take him to the county fair and today’s the last day. It’s his birthday.”
Her eyes crinkle in amusement, and he knows he’s won.
Ann tosses the keys at him. “Remember to fill it up with gas when you’re done. Don’t have sex in the backseat; I’ll know if you do.”
Kevin blushes. “Ann! We’re not doing that.”
Ann laughs at him. “Uh huh, and you guys spend all that time in your bedroom with the door closed just for fun.”
“We hang out! Movies and things!”
A few times kisses have gotten heated, and Morgan’s dislike of clothes means in private he’s usually very close to naked. Kevin’s a teenage boy; Morgan is very attractive; it would be difficult not to be aroused even if he were clothed all the time. It’s not that Kevin hasn’t thought about it, but it is a difficult thing to ask. Plus, Morgan is so innocent about so many things. He figures if Morgan ever wants to, he’ll let Kevin know. Until then, he’s more than happy with what they have.
“Right,” Ann says. “Have fun. Win me the biggest stuffed animal you can.”
The doorbell rings, and Kevin finishes his juice quickly. He rushes to the door, smiling widely at Morgan, who is wearing Kevin’s sweatshirt and the orange shorts again. “Hey!” Kevin says. “You’re probably not wearing anything under that.” Poking the collar down reveals skin, as he expected.
“You realize I’m still sitting right here,” Ann says.
Kevin rolls his eyes. “Here, I’m gonna get you the clothes you left in my room.”
Ann’s eyes widen. “I’m still here!”
Kevin’s cheeks heat up, but he knows whatever he says Ann will find a way to turn into a joke, so he just runs up to his room. He realizes the shirt they bought is long-sleeved and made out of a thick blend. Morgan will probably be more comfortable in something else, since it’s going to get warmer later. He digs in his dresser, laughing when he finds a T-shirt with a smug-looking cartoon seal with the words “SEAL OF APPROVAL” printed on it. Dashing back downstairs, he finds Morgan chuckling at something Ann is saying.
“What are you two talki
ng about?” Kevin asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Nothing,” Ann says. “Giving Morgan some advice, that’s all. Have fun, kids!”
Kevin glares at his sister, and she gives him a jaunty salute. “C’mon,” Kevin says, taking Morgan by the hand and pulling him into the downstairs bathroom, ignoring Ann’s scandalized snort from the living room.
Morgan looks as cute as ever, waiting with a slightly confused expression. Kevin hands him the jeans and then holds out the shirt. “Here, what do you think?”
“It is a comical representation of a seal.” Morgan unzips the sweatshirt and takes the shirt. He gets stuck pulling it on.
Kevin pulls the shirt over his head, careful to not tug on Morgan’s hair. “What was my sister saying to you?”
“She was asking about our mating habits.”
Kevin cheeks heat up. “Um, right, our, ah, mating habits.”
“I told her not to worry. You have a full day planned at this fair, and I reassured her that we would not be mating in her vehicle.”
“I hope you’re not mating in the bathroom, either!” Ann’s voice resonates through the wall, sending both Kevin and Morgan into fits of laughter.
The drive is fun. Pop songs blare on the radio, and Kevin sings along, making Morgan laugh hysterically at him. They pull into the fairground and park alongside the throngs of people, all eager to enjoy their day. “This is going to be great,” Kevin declares, buying a generous number of tickets.
Morgan is awestruck at everything: the popcorn, the cotton candy, the bright colors, the chiming music playing constantly and the people everywhere. He gets cotton candy all over himself; pink floss sticks to his lips and cheeks, and Kevin has to kiss it away. Once again he feels warm contentment at being able to kiss in public, hold hands with Morgan, who is without insecurities or qualms about being seen with him. They’re happy and in a relationship, and Kevin could scream it to the world and Morgan would just smile that sweet, happy smile.