The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,30
my mother had returned to her mermaid family along with me more than once. Would he be able to understand that I needed a connection with them too, or would he just feel threatened, and use it as an excuse to pull away from me?
Pull away right back to Amber.
When I remembered Amber it was with a visceral surge of jealousy. She might have told Ethan they could just be “friends” but I knew what she had in mind. She was like a child who discarded a toy, only to try and snatch it back when she saw that someone else wanted it. I thought about the way she spoke his name and started to get angry. Then I started to get scared. I hated her, but I didn’t want her to end up dead because of it.
I grew more and more agitated, eventually sitting up in bed and turning the light on to grab a book. All of my art supplies were at my new studio, so I fidgeted, unable to paint to soothe myself. Emptied of all the canvases, the room looked much bigger, but it still felt like the walls were closing in on me. I finally slammed my book shut and got out of bed, picking up my wetsuit.
I paddled out under the waxing moon, listening as the ocean whispered stronger than ever. Lorelei arrived, and sensing my black mood, towed me wordlessly to the point. It had been a long time since we’d surfed there, but the mysterious shadowy night waves were every bit as thrilling as I remembered.
I was flying on the water, as free as any other wild creature in the sea. It felt like I was gliding on the edge of an infinite universe, and I was mercifully completely caught up in the rapturous sensation of forgetting.
I took wave after wave in the dark water, resting between sets to look up at the stars and down in wonder at little phosphorescent sea creatures that flitted about in the depths. I felt a twinge of pain in my head and blinked away a vivid image of myself swimming below the water with Lorelei; I couldn’t tell if it was her thought or mine, and I felt like I was being absorbed. When I looked into her eyes it was as if they were my own.
“I need to go,” I said, suddenly frightened. I reached up to feel the lump of the aquamarine underneath my wetsuit.
“Will you come again soon?” she asked, “Nerissa wants to go wave riding too.”
“Yes,” I said, knowing I would, despite the fear that sat like an ice cube in my stomach. I knew I’d keep doing it, even though I was beginning to sense an increasing threat coming from the innocent mermaids. I was changing, becoming more attuned to them. As strange as it sounded, it felt as though I was merging with them, becoming part of the sea cell by cell, and it felt good, like drifting off to sleep. No wonder they were so weak and frail when they left its nurturing pulse.
Living on the land, contending with all of its worries and problems, kept me grounded in the most literal sense of the word. I suppose that constantly fighting gravity, coupled with being subjected to aging, toughened you up– even as it wore you out.
Bidding Lorelei goodbye, I made for terra firma and trudged up the stairs, cold and exhausted. The air was still, I was the only creature stirring in the calm, quiet moments just before dawn electrified the atmosphere. I nearly ran into the outline of a small figure at the top of the stairs, barely illuminated in the silvery mist, and I dropped my surfboard in surprise.
“Dollface,” a quiet voice called out affectionately, and I relaxed. It was Stella.
“Stella! Are you alright? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?’ I asked.
“I needed to see… to check…the little wild ones…” her voice drifted off, and I squinted to try and focus on her. It felt as if she were backing away from me.
“Stella?” I repeated nervously, wondering if she was sleepwalking.
“She had on the blue shoes? Of all the cockamamie things…”
“What shoes?” I asked, peering into the black shadows.
“Aw, he was a swell guy when he wasn’t on the hooch…” her voice faded out, and I strained to hear her.
“Stella?” She worried me, for she was rambling more than usual, “Can I walk you home?”