by Dani Stowe
Pike pounds his fists on the doorframe, and then pushes his gold-framed aviator sunglasses down his nose, showing me his beady, evil, angry eyes. “Forgot?”
Oh, he seems pissed.
“Athena,” he growls, “I got another missing girl reported this morning and you’re telling me you forgot?”
“Sheesh, I’m sorry,” I shrug.
The sheriff rests his hand on his gun. “I need those signs and I needed them up since yesterday, so get ready and head over to the library—”
“Library?” I interject. “But its Sunday. The library is closed. It’s my day off and—”
“Athena! Did you not just hear what I said? Missing. Guuuuurls.” His eyes are about to shoot flames. “What the hell is going on with you? You were eager to help out that baby dolphin but you seem reluctant to help me with this. We’re talking about teenagers. Young women who might be in a lot of trouble right now or worse—dead. I have no choice but to assume these young people have been snatched up against their will and you’re worrying about library hours?”
I massage my forehead. Pike is right. I don’t know what I’m thinking...
You were thinking about Willis’s beating heart.
“I’m sorry, I’ll get ready and head over.”
“That’s more like it,” he says. “I’ll come by the library in an hour to pick the signs up.”
An hour. That’s how long it takes me to get ready, walk over to the library, and draft the flyers warning folks to stay indoors after dusk due to curfew. Laying the first draft over the glass of the copy machine, I hear a knock.
“We’re closed,” I yell.
“But the door is open,” sounds a hefty familiar voice. “You’re not already trying to avoid me, are you? I thought we had a good time last night.” My heart leaps as I turn to see Levi poking his head through the library’s heavy front doors. “At least, I had a good time. Did you?” he asks bashfully, walking in cautiously with a drink in his hand. He sucks up some red liquid out of a Styrofoam cup through a clear straw.
“I did,” I blush.
“Cool.” He smiles, removing his glasses to place them on the checkout counter along with his drink.
He took those off on purpose. I told him how cute he was over dinner when we both took our glasses off at the same time as a dare.
“So...” He does that double snap to fist-palm thing. “I was strolling through town looking for someplace to eat and I couldn’t help but see your door was open.”
“Oh, sure,” I tease. “Don’t lie. I know a stalker when I see one.”
“Does it bother you that I’m stalking you right now? Because if it does...” Levi bites his lip, blinking puppy dog eyes at me. He’s so cute!
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Great.” Levi tilts his head with curiosity. “Whatcha doin’ there?”
“I’m making flyers for the sheriff.”
Levi leans in closer over the counter with curiosity. “Flyers for what?”
“The sheriff is implementing a curfew on account of some missing teens. No one’s allowed out after dark.”
“Oh yeah? Missing teens, huh? That sounds very sad. Want me to come back there and give you a hand?”
“Um, sh-sure,” I slur, trying not to drool.
You can totally come back here and give me your hand. And your lips. And your twenty-three-year-old body.
Instead of walking around, Levi takes a quick sip of his drink, places it down, and lifts his butt onto the counter, swings his legs over, and plops himself right in front of me. “How many copies are we making?”
“Two hundred,” grunts an intruder. Pike.
“Hi, Sheriff,” I turn, smiling, but it’s a wasted show of teeth. As Pike smoothly struts in, his attention is fixed on the out-of-towner.
“Who are you?” Pike asks Levi directly.
Levi clears his throat, picks up and puts on his glasses, and then puts his hand out invitingly over the counter. “I’m Levi.”
Pike stares at Levi’s hand and instead of reaching back for a friendly shake, the sheriff places his hands at his hips, purposefully tapping his fingers across the handle of his gun. “So, let me guess.” Pike tilts his head. “You’re another one of these—”
“Oh no!” I shout, shaking my head and waving my hands wildly. “Levi is from the inland “He’s absolutely normal. A normal human being.” I’m singing at the top of my lungs in hopes the sheriff will get the picture. “Levi wears pants one hundred percent of the time.” Because he’s not half fish, I want to add.
The sheriff crinkles his nose. “Mmm. Well, I just came to make sure you weren’t having any trouble getting those flyers made, Athena.” The sheriff eyes the out-of-towner one more time. “You’re not in any trouble, are you?”
I shake my head again. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Levi’s from the university.” I’m still assuming, of course.
Pike swipes his upper teeth with the front of his tongue as he studies Levi. “You look a little old to still be in college.”
Levi scratches the back of his scalp seemingly flustered. “Uh... I’m...”
“He’s working on his master’s degree,” I cut in with a lie but could totally be true. “And if you don’t mind, Sheriff, Levi and I were about to engage in a debate on the mythology of the town. So, if you want to come back...”
“Come back? Sure,” Pike huffs. “I get the message, Athena. I’ll be back. Just don’t get distracted by Mr. Harry Potter. I know how you are when it comes to discussing hocus pocus. We all know how much you love magic.”
Levi squints at me with a quirk of his lips. I know I’m blushing—my face is so hot from the embarrassment, but I’m thankful at least the sheriff has offered to go away, at least for a little while.
“Jeez,” Levi exhales as the door shuts behind Pike. “That guy is intense.”
“I know,” I reply, heading back over to the copy machine. “But he’s just doing his job.”
Levi picks up his drink to take a swig and follows right behind me, lifting my hair from the side of my face to plant his chin over my shoulder. “So, I was thinking you and I should go out again tonight.”
Levi’s breath blows warm in my ear and it makes my body hot, but strangely, I’m reminded of cold. Ice so cold it burned my fingertips and I shuffle my fingers feeling the pain.
I believe Willis will be expecting me tonight, but I’m not so sure I want to visit him anymore. Even though I know Willis might listen this time, I’m sure he’ll still leave me to sit by myself—alone—in the same way he left me last night.
“Sure,” I reply. “I’d love to go out again.”
“Great,” says Levi and he surprisingly snakes his hand around my waist. It makes me want to fan myself—I’m an inferno of hot longing. Levi places his body flush against my back. “Now, let me help you with that.”
Levi lifts the lid of the copy machine with his drink still in his hand and the cup falls. Shit! Red soda splashes all over the machine and pools over the glass before it drips into the seams of the pane and between plastic buttons and miscellaneous cracks.
Hurriedly, I pull Levi’s hand off of me and run to a janitor’s closet to pull out a jumbo roll of paper towels, but by the time I get back, it’s obvious the damage is done. I’m sure Levi intended to help, but instead of wiping the soda away from the top of the machine, he’s opened the front panel, allowing more soda to drip into the center of the machine and over the motherboard. Despite the cord I see still plugged into the wall, the green power light is no longer lit. I’m confident we’ve broken the machine. I sigh as I start to clean up the mess.
“I’m sorry,” says Levi, unrolling some paper towels to sop up the soda with me. “Looks like it might be broke.”
“It’s okay.” I smile.
“So, what will you do now?”
“I’ll have to make the signs by hand, I guess. I don’t think the sheriff is going to be pleased.”
A phone rings. Levi r
eaches behind him to pull his phone from his back pocket and stands up. “I have to take this,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
I don’t mean to be nosy, but I remain quiet, listening, as I soak up more soda from the machine and then get on my knees to pat the carpet. I can’t understand a word Levi is saying. He’s wandered away passed three aisles of books and he’s speaking so quietly, it sounds as if he’s whispering.
I get up to look around. There’s not a soul in here and I figure he’s keeping his voice soft and low out of habit. This is a library.
Emerging from the aisle, Levi appears upset. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Oh?” No! Please don’t.
“Yeah, a friend of mine says he needs help with one of his pets of all things. He says it’s an emergency.” Levi grabs more paper towels. “Here, let me help you clean this up real quick first.”
“No, please,” I beg. “It’s fine. I got this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “What kind of pet is it?”
“A feline,” he replies. “He has several.”
“So, does that mean you know a lot about animals?”
“I guess you could say that,” he chortles. “I was raised on a ranch. We had a lot of cats, though I know a lot more about roping cattle.”
Surprising. “So, what brought you here to the coast?”
Levi’s phone dings and he glances at it before he looks back at me. “Athena, I’m really sorry. I have to go, but I’ll pick you up tonight. Okay?” He skips towards the front doors.
“Sure,” I smile with genuine delight, watching him leave.
My smile turns into a frown when I realize I’m going to have to call the sheriff and let him know there will yet again be another delay with these signs.
6
Athena
I hate this. A hundred flyers I have to write out by hand. And you would think I could just write something simple in big bold letters with a flat black sharpie, but noooooo.
Sadly, that is against the town’s rules. Even in an emergency, they will not bend the rules. We have a law which dictates everything about posted signs, including the type of font and colors to use. The law is to protect the historic appeal of the town since the town’s economy relies on tourism next to fishing.
My hand hurts and I’m hungry, so I decide to take a break. Packing up the pens and paper, I lock up the library and head back to my apartment.
Opening my refrigerator, I see there is nothing inside. I don’t know why I thought there would be. I never buy groceries.
I head over to the Fiddler’s Café but it’s Sunday, so although I get my sandwich quickly, there’s no seat available with all the tourists and students in town for the weekend. Sightings of strange creatures have been reported in waters along the coastline, and I figure with the added word of these missing girls, out-of-towners are even more curious, flocking in to catch a glimpse of Stranger Things. Naturally, I head back to my apartment with my turkey Reuben and jump in my car, then head towards the beach.
Once parked, I stay seated inside, unsure of whether I want to get out or not. People are present. Children are splashing, teenagers are sunbathing, tourists are ogling with their binoculars, an old man is swinging his metal detector across the sand in search of lost treasure.
I sigh.
Not one of these people knows what lurks in the ocean in front of them and not one of them would believe me if I told them. I decide I need to be more like these people—carefree and not so much a crazy person. I shouldn’t worry about Willis. Every encounter we’ve had, he quickly disappeared. If I show no interest, I’m sure he’ll leave me alone.
As he always has.
Getting out, I grab my sandwich and bag, and then my blanket and umbrella from the trunk. Walking my flip-flop covered feet several yards through hot sand, I find a smooth sunny spot near the water where I set up shop and get busy stuffing my face of turkey on a huge hoagie and creating more flyers.
Within hours, I’m spent and I lay my head down on the blanket when I spy families packing up to leave. They are all leaving, apart from a young couple running around on the beach. The couple looks to be in their late teens or early twenties. The tall, lean young man chases the curvy brunette of bronzed skin up and down the peaks of small sand hills until he captures her, throwing her to the ground to topple over her and kiss her. She throws sand in his face and he picks her up with a devious smile to walk her into the water where he laughs and she screams as he tosses her into the ocean. She makes a splash before she emerges, wrapped in a glistening wet warm glow made amber from the setting sun. She kisses him. They wrap their arms around each other, kissing with more depth, swapping copious amounts of spit, and I wonder what it must be like to be caught in a kiss like that. The moment seems enchanting. They look like something right out of a fairy tale or worse, a cheesy teen chick flick from the eighties. They’re so cute. I hate them.
I squeal with a tight pinch to my toe and quickly turn around, kicking my foot at the source of my pain—a crab?
“Damn you!” I curse as the thing the size of my palm stares at me, pokes its weird antennae eyes at me, and shows off its pincher with a squeezing action.
“Shoo.” I kick at the crustacean, which doesn’t move.
Removing my flip-flop, I flick at it, nearly whacking the crab, and watching the animal finally scurry towards the waterline. A tiny wave rolls over the crustacean, swallowing it, and I feel guilty that might be the end of the small creature. I may have sentenced it to death. I wait, hoping to see the crab emerge from the water when suddenly, I feel alone.
Searching for the kissing couple, I see they are gone. Turning my head about, I realize I am alone. There isn’t a soul in sight. Night’s blanket is creeping its way across the heavens as the sun has already sunken below the horizon. A few stars twinkle through the black-to-blue gradient above me and as I shove my pens back into my bag, I read one of the signs I’ve been working on: Public Notice. Curfew in Effect After Dusk. Strictly Enforced by Order of the Sheriff.
I remember the reasons I’ve been working on these signs and I shudder with the thought I could become one of them—the missing. I wonder what’s happened to them. Three. Missing. Girls. Surely, nothing good.
Hurriedly, I fold up my blanket and bend down under the umbrella to grasp the latch that will bring the umbrella fabric to a close when something quickly crawls across the top of my foot.
Frantically, I squeal, kicking and falling to my butt when I see that stinking crab. It’s eyeballing me again. Trying to freak me out.
“If you keep up with this, I’m going to put you in a kettle and boil you,” I snap. The crab clamps its pinchers at me again, taunting me, so I take a leap towards the crustacean ready to chase it, but I stop.
This is insane. I’m playing with a dumb beach crab and I need to get off the beach and get indoors before I get nabbed. By what? Who knows? But I need to pack up and head home.
Turning around, I feel a painful nip at the tendon above my heel. Damn this crustacean won’t leave me alone! I reach down to trap the critter with both hands, but it escapes me, heading once again towards the water. This time, however, the crab stops right before it reaches the edge of a wave fanning across the sand and my breath hitches at the sight of a red rowboat, which seems to have come out of nowhere.
The boat, made of wood, looks old. A few barnacles surround the front end. Slowly, the boat, made to hold maybe two people at most, rocks slightly as small waves push the front end to become wedged into the sand onshore.
I adjust my glasses, searching the water for any sign of him—Willis.
I know it’s him, though I don’t know exactly what I’m expecting to see. He is, after all, comprised of the very thing in front of me—the ocean. I suspect he would like me to get into the boat, but I’m reluctant to climb in. He’s never presented me with such an offer before. Many times, he’s turned me away—tipping me over before I can get b
eyond hip deep from shore.
And there’s no paddle. What does he expect me to do? Trust him? After he sprayed me in front of the others and left me with burnt fingers?
I turn my back to the ocean. Cora Morae once warned me to never do such a thing.
“The ocean is unpredictable,” she said. “It is as tempestuous as the atmosphere and has as much transgression as the beasts that live within its depths.”
I never realized until now Ms. Morae was, in actuality, referring to Willis and the other mermen, or perhaps their tempers.
A spray of water hits me from behind and my shirt is soaked once again at the back.
“Stop doing that!” I snap with a turn to face Willis, expecting to see some resemblance of a man, but there is nothing. Only the swell of another wave rolls in and crashes with a fan across the sand.
I huff and cross my arms. I don’t understand why he behaves so mysteriously although I guess I can’t blame him for not communicating. He can’t exactly speak whenever he wishes...
Wait...
What’s this?
As the wave rolls back into the sea, I must admit I am tickled. I clasp my hands to my mouth to hide my smile when I see words written in cursive in the sand.
It reads: How else may I get your attention?
I skip to the words and rub my toes across the beautifully scripted cursive letters on the beach, but I pause when I realize I’m wet yet again. “I don’t like being sprayed,” I respond.
Another wave fans, moving further inland to curl about my feet. As the water flows away, a new message appears: Get in the boat.
I scrub my heel against the beach, scribbling over his words. “No.”
More water rushes over his words to be replaced by new words. Why not?
“I don’t trust you.”
You’ve been following me through the length of your existence and now, you don’t trust me?
“You’re crueler than I thought you were.”
Cruel? How have I been cruel?