Michele stepped out of the wheelchair slowly, as if she still wasn’t quite sure she could stand on her own two feet. She placed the bucket she’d managed to hang on to down in the seat of the wheelchair before approaching the edge of the pool. Her hands trembled as she reached for Pearl’s chin, and they only worsened when the mermaid opened her mouth to expose two rows of sharp teeth. Then she asked Pearl to lay her tail up across the rock floor so she could inspect her scales and where they had shed. She fingered a bare spot, snapping her hand back as Pearl hissed.
“Sorry,” Michele squeaked. She stood and wiped her hand on her pants. “I think you may have a bacterial infection. Since you’re warm-blooded, and the ocean is growing steadily colder, your body is having a hard time fighting the infection while simultaneously maintaining your internal temperature. You need antibiotics and a warmer environment, like maybe the Gulf of Mexico.”
Pearl gasped. “That’s so far away. At least two weeks’ swim.” She coughed weakly.
Michele nodded. “I wouldn’t recommend that you attempt it in your condition.” She looked back at the wheelchair and frowned. “But it looks like Sasha has a plan of some sort.”
Pearl followed her gaze and pushed off the ledge, sinking lower in the middle of the pool. “Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Her last word came out gargled as her mouth sank below the water, leaving only her big, black eyes peering at them.
Sasha reached her hand out. “Please, Pearl. There’s no other way. Keeping you warm is the least I can do. Besides, Gramma invited you to Thanksgiving dinner.”
Pearl’s head poked above the water suddenly. “You told your grandmother about me too?” She was more perplexed than angry.
Sasha nodded encouragingly, taking Pearl’s hand as she swam closer. “Except for the mermaid part. I left that out. But I’m pretty sure she knows that you’re my girlfriend.”
“Am I?” Pearl let a small smile grace her face for a moment, before her worry returned. “I still don’t think I’ll be able to fit in one of those buckets. I can’t squeeze myself into tight spaces like an octopus. I have a skeleton, you know.”
Sasha shook her head. “The buckets are for sea water. We’ll be taking you back to the house in the wheelchair.”
“With my tail hanging out in the open for everyone to see?” Pearl cried, as if she’d just been asked to streak across a football field at halftime.
Sasha sighed and stood. She reached down into the bucket Pearl hadn’t disrupted and pulled out a tightly rolled sleeping bag, along with a thick, blue hoodie. “Problem solved.”
It was almost dark outside by the time Sasha and Michele rolled Pearl down the driveway. They’d taken the long way home to avoid the busy streets—and to avoid another run-in with Natalie. The almost full moon crept out from behind the clouds and reflected in every puddle they maneuvered around.
The sleeping bag bunched around Pearl’s waist, where it overlapped with the hoodie. In retrospect, the blue material hadn’t been the best call. It made Pearl’s skin look even paler, though it at least hid her massively tangled hair. Sasha decided she would have to take some detangler and a comb to her date before Thanksgiving dinner.
Pearl didn’t seem to be adjusting to the dry air very well either. She kept taking her hands out of the hoodie pouch and spreading her fingers to examine the thin webbing that stretched up to her second knuckles.
“Maybe some oil would help,” Michele suggested, watching the mermaid fiddle with her hands for the hundredth time.
“Some fish oil.” Sasha snorted.
Pearl rolled her eyes, then caught sight of the two story farmhouse. “This is where you live?”
“Yup.” Sasha nodded.
Michele frowned at the soft light coming from a room on the first floor. Gramma was still awake.
“What’s the plan?” she whispered.
Sasha glanced down at the two sloshing buckets of seawater looped over the handles of the wheelchair. Getting those, plus Pearl and the wheelchair, all upstairs without being seen or heard was going to be quite the magic trick. Pearl wasn’t all that heavy, but she was slippery.
Sasha looked at Michele and chewed a fingernail thoughtfully. “Think you could go in and play interference? Maybe convince Gramma that I’m bringing in some early Christmas gifts if we make too much noise?”
Michele pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay. I can do that. Maybe I should sneak one of these buckets upstairs first? Test the waters?” She grinned.
Sasha and Pearl waited and listened as Michele snuck inside. When they saw her shadow pass through the light in Gramma’s room, they made their move, slipping in through the back door that led into the kitchen. Sasha went ahead and flicked on the fluorescent lights, drawing a startled breath from Pearl. Her eyes blinked several times, adjusting to the light as she took in the checkered floors and chicken themed kitchen with awe.
Sasha placed a finger over her lips and glanced around the corner into the darkened living room. Then she dipped her head under one of Pearl’s arms and pulled the mermaid up over her shoulder. It was not a romantic gesture, like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold. But it was efficient, allowing Sasha to more easily climb the stairs up to her room on the second floor.
Pearl grunted softly against her back and curled her thick tail inside the sleeping bag, tucking it around Sasha’s opposite hip to steady herself. After they reached their destination, Sasha flicked on her bedroom light and dumped Pearl on the bed before sprawling out next to her and panting to catch her breath.
“Well,” Pearl grumbled. “Let’s just say that nets don’t sound half bad after all that.” She spread her fingers again and frowned at the dry webbing. “Were you serious about having fish oil?”
Sasha pulled herself upright and took Pearl’s hands in hers, examining them up close. “I think Gramma might have some cod liver oil with all of her vitamins. I’ll go check. Don’t move.”
Pearl huffed. “Yeah, ’cause flopping around on your floor looks like heaps of fun.” She curled her nose at the dingy carpet and pulled herself further up on the bed.
Sasha hurried back downstairs, nearly running over Michele as she hauled the second bucket of water in through the back door.
“God,” Michele hissed. “Are you trying to give me heart failure?”
Sasha’s shoulders hunched up to her ears. “Sorry,” she whispered and tiptoed over to the vitamin cabinet next to the kitchen sink. She dug out a bottle of fish oil supplements, then moved over to the pantry, where she found a bottle of olive oil. She waved the jug at Michele to snag her attention. “You think this would help?”
Michele shoved a knee under the bucket of sea water and hefted it up against her chest, hugging both arms around it. “Maybe? Hell if I know,” she whispered back. “Just make it quick. You don’t want Gramma catching you with her good cooking oil the night before Thanksgiving.”
Sasha nodded and tucked the bottle under her arm before gently closing the cabinets. She made one last stop, at the freezer, and snagged a bag of frozen shrimp. Then she folded the wheelchair and tucked it under her free arm before hobbling upstairs.
When she slipped back inside her bedroom, she found Michele in the attached bathroom, moving the buckets to the tub. Michele took a plastic Mickey Mouse cup off the edge of the sink and dunked it down in a bucket to fill it with sea water. Then she pulled the shower curtain shut to hide the buckets from sight.
Pearl reached greedily for the cup when Michele joined them, sucking the sea water down in desperate gulps. “More. Please,” she rasped, handing the cup back to Michele, who refilled it a second and third time, while Sasha unzipped the sleeping bag and helped her out of the hoodie.
They rubbed her down with the olive oil first, saving the fish oil for the more delicate skin around her face and neck and between her fingers. Michele found some petroleum jelly in the bathroom, and they very carefully applied it to the bare spots where her pretty green scales had sloughed away.
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It was nearing midnight before Pearl was settled, propped against the headboard of Sasha’s bed, her tail flicking at the foot of the bed, like a lazy housecat.
Michele yawned and rubbed her cheek. “It’s past my bedtime, kids.”
Sasha stood to hug her. “Thanks for everything. You’re the best cousin ever.”
“This I know,” she laughed softly, following it up with another yawn. “If you need me, I’ll be across the hall.” She waved to Pearl and slipped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.
“I’m hungry,” Pearl said, rubbing a hand over her pale belly.
Sasha retrieved the bag of shrimp, abandoned on the floor. It was mostly thawed now, and Pearl’s nose crinkled as Sasha peeled it open.
“What’s that supposed to be?”
“Shrimp. Prawn. I don’t know what you merfolk call it.” Sasha plucked a fat, pink specimen from the bag and handed it over.
Pearl took it reluctantly. “What’s wrong with it? It smells funny. How long has it been dead?”
Sasha shrugged. “Hard to say, but it was cooked and then frozen, so it’s still safe to eat.”
“I know frozen, but what’s cooked?” Pearl held the shrimp under her nose and sniffed while Sasha mulled over the question.
“Um, we humans often heat our food to high temperatures. It makes it safer and tastier a lot of the time.”
Pearl frowned at the idea, but she went ahead and took a bite of the shrimp, chewing it slowly. “Your people are strange. Prawn is much better fresh, and their eyes are delicious. Why would you discard them?”
Sasha’s face scrunched up and she stuck her tongue out. “Some people do eat them—but not me. I don’t like food that stares at me.”
Pearl took the bag from her and dug out another morsel. “That’s why I eat the eyes first.”
Sasha gagged. Pearl was most definitely not Ariel. Flounder and Sebastian would have been breakfast, and if her father hadn’t met his demise in a yacht propeller accident, his only rule on human interactions would have been to leave no witnesses.
Sasha watched Pearl down the entire bag of shrimp, making short work of it with her shark-sharp teeth. When she finished eating, she curled in close to Sasha, her salty fish breath fuming between them. The lamp on the night stand lit her tangled tresses that grew more and more unruly as they dried, leaving bits of salt and sand across the bed sheets.
Pearl traced the curve of Sasha’s face with her fingers. “I wish I could take you to see where I sleep out by the reef.”
Sasha grinned. “Maybe I’ll rent out some scuba gear next summer.”
“No.” Pearl’s eyelids fluttered sleepily. “They’d kill you if they saw us together.”
“What?”
“Why do you think I always meet you in the hidden cave?”
A sudden coldness tightened around Sasha’s heart. She lay awake a while longer, watching Pearl drift off to sleep. Her snores were soft, but they sounded very much like someone gargling mouthwash. It was cute. And terrifying.
They’d kill you if they saw us together.
Yeah, scratch the scuba plans, she thought. Like, forever.
When Sasha finally dozed off, she dreamt of having dinner with Pearl’s family. Only, she was the main course—surrounded by thousands of little bug-eyed shrimp.
The next morning arrived in a panic. Sasha woke to the sound of Pearl gasping. Her wide eyes stared at the ceiling, and they’d turned a filmy gray. Sasha tumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, filling the Mickey Mouse cup with sea water. She hurried back to Pearl, splashing more of the water on the bed than in the mermaid’s mouth. She stood to fetch a second cup as Michele poked her head in to check on them.
“FYI, I can totally hear her downstairs, and I had to convince Gramma that you caught a cold last night,” she whispered.
Pearl’s breath had slowed, but she still rasped dryly. She was able to sit up and take the second cup of sea water Sasha brought for her. After chugging it down, she found her voice. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea. Do you really think you can pass me off as a human to your grandmother?”
Michele ducked inside the room and closed the door behind her. She approached the bed and timidly patted the nest that had taken up residence in Pearl’s hair. “Not with this. I’ll be right back.” She ran across the hall and quickly returned with her travel toiletries bag in hand. “This is going to take a while.”
Sasha brought a third glass of sea water, then she dug through her closet while Michele combed Pearl’s hair. Half a bottle of leave-in conditioner later, dinner was looking hopeful. Pearl’s red locks lay in a slick braid over her shoulder. It trailed down between her breasts to rest just above her belly button.
Sasha found a bright green sweater in the back of her closet and held it up over Pearl’s chest. She tilted her head from side to side and then nodded. “Try this on.”
Pearl scowled, but she took the sweater and clumsily pulled it over her head, making several attempts before she figured out the arm holes. “I don’t like it. It’s itchy,” she pouted.
“Just be glad that it’s thick enough to hide your girly bits. You’d really hate bras.” Michele chuckled as she smoothed down Pearl’s hair where the mermaid had mussed it with the sweater.
“I’m hungry again.” Pearl sniffled and ran her webbed fingers over her stomach.
Sasha nodded. “Okay. We’ll sneak you out of here and go grab some fish at the market before heading back for dinner. That way, if you hate whatever we’re having, you’ll still be plenty full. We’ll make sure to bring back some for a snack later too. Deal?”
Pearl nodded.
“Okay.” Sasha went back to her closet. “The sleeping bag will work for your tail, but I think we’re going to need a few more accessories before we’re street-worthy.”
“Accessories?” Pearl tried out the word.
Sasha returned with a set of brown mittens and a matching scarf. “There. Now you’re perfect. No one will be the wiser.”
Pearl lifted the mittens like she had been shackled. “Are you sure you don’t want to wrap my face in seaweed first? I mean, that’s the only thing you’ve left unaltered.”
Sasha considered her for a moment. The thin line of emerald around her large, black pupils. The full mouth that mostly hid the tight rows of small, sharp teeth. The translucent skin that stretched taut over her high cheekbones and narrow chin. “I think your face is human enough—as long as no one is looking too closely.”
Pearl sniffed. “Well, that’s a relief.” She looked from one mitten to the other before dropping her useless hands in her lap and flapping her tail against the side of the bed.
Sasha’s arms were sore from the day before, but she found her second wind once she and Pearl reached the busy sidewalks in town. Some of the stores were running early holiday sales—since Black Friday clearly wasn’t good enough. It made Sasha feel guilty for being in town at all, fueling the idea that not everyone deserved a day off with their family. But Pearl needed food, so she pushed the wheelchair along quickly, hoping no one would stare long enough to realize that something wasn’t quite right about her holiday guest.
The fish market wasn’t an especially happenin’ place on Thanksgiving Day, seeing as how turkey was the traditional prey of the season. Still, Sasha managed to find a sole vendor, just as he was packing up. The man looked like the desperate sort, wrapped in layers of thin, worn flannel and a pair of over-patched coveralls. His face needed a good shave, and his hair poked out from under his stocking cap in greasy tufts.
“Sorry, kid. My wife will kill me if I don’t make it home in time to cut the bird,” he said, lugging a crate into the back of his truck. His sullen expression made Sasha wonder if he wasn’t already in the doghouse.
Pearl’s stomach growled as a wave of stale fish air rolled off of the man and slapped them in the face. He only had one crate of fish left to load, but Sasha cut him off, thrusting a fifty dollar bill�
�a good chunk of her meager summer savings—in the man’s face. “We’ll take what you have left here.”
He took the money with a toothy grin. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Sasha set the crate over the armrests of the wheelchair and prayed that Pearl would keep her hands to herself until they found a quiet spot for the mermaid to gorge herself. They crept around the less savory sidewalks and corners of town, like alley cats sniffing out rats. Pearl suggested the hidden cave, but Sasha shrugged the idea away, the mermaid buffet nightmare still too fresh in her mind.
Finally, they settled in an elbow of thick hedges that lined the city park. Pearl shed the mittens and crammed a fish—face-first—into her mouth. Her teeth slid through the scaly flesh, making a juicy crunch as they met bone.
“Hmmmmmm,” she groaned, closing her eyes as she licked her fingers. “Frozen is better than cooked. But fresh is still best of all.” She finished the fish in three bites.
When Pearl had eaten her fill, there were only two fish left. Sasha wrapped them in the newspaper lining the crate and tucked them down in the pocket behind the wheelchair seat.
Pearl was in a much better mood with a full stomach, and her cold seemed to have improved as well. When they made it back to the house, Michele met them on the back porch with one of her fancy perfumes in hand.
“Wow.” She fanned her nose. “I don’t know if this is going to do any good, but it definitely can’t hurt.” She spritzed Pearl’s sweater with the perfume, carefully avoiding her delicate fish skin.
When Michele was done, she gave them a thumbs-up and headed back inside.
Sasha looked down and Pearl and took a deep breath. “Ready?”
The mermaid swallowed and lifted her chin.
Sasha pressed the doorbell, listening to the churchy tune echo through the door. Gramma answered a second later. Her bright eyes took in Pearl with confused enthusiasm, as if she knew something was wrong, just not what exactly.
“Come in! Come in!” She held the door open so Sasha could push the wheelchair inside. “You must be Pearl.” Gramma held her hand out for Pearl to shake.
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