Jack, age nine, had been in Italy fourteen hours when he heard soft sobbing coming from outside. His mother, susceptible to jet lag, was snoring in one of the upstairs bedrooms, while he was out on the living room balcony, more than a little awed by the view. I bet Italy makes even the grown-ups feel small.
When the noise started, he looked down at the beach and saw what appeared to be a bundle of laundry bound up in black netting. A crying bundle of laundry bound up in black netting.
Deciding a weird crying pile on the beach applied to “don’t go to the beach alone unless it’s an emergency”, he was already through the living room, down the stairs, and out the sliding doors leading to the private beach. As he approached, the sobbing cut off and the laundry—which had been wiggling—went still.
“Um.” He approached cautiously. It wasn’t a pile, it was a girl. She was all curled in on herself and her long black hair was draped all over everything. As he got closer, he saw her hair wasn’t really black...it was a green so dark and deep, it shone like the head of a mallard. “Are you okay?”
Silence.
“I heard you crying and—aw, jeez.” There was an ugly nick in the side of her tail where her ankle would be if she had legs, and she was bleeding.
Where her ankle would be if she had legs.
Which she didn’t have, because she had a tail.
A tail.
“You’re hurt. Can I—should I call someone?” They don’t have 9-1-1 in Italy. Okay, that’s okay, Mom’ll know. He was already poised to sprint back to the villa. “To get help?”
“No.” She slowly lifted her head, unfolding almost like a serpent. Her eyes were the same deep, dark green as her hair, and though she was dripping wet from the lake, he was pretty sure some of it was tears. She was so pale her skin was like marble, a few of her veins faint green shadows beneath the skin. She was definitely older than he was—she had boobs, and he was trying super hard not to stare at them.
Heedless of the damp sand, he sat beside her. “What happened?”
She blinked at him, long slow blinks, and was silent so long he figured she wasn’t going to answer. He tried again in his halting Italian: “Quello che...um...è successo?”
She didn’t smile, but relaxed just a bit and answered in Italian, “I swam too close to the ferry.” She looked down at the gash in her tail, frowned.
“Oh. How come you did that?”
“I...wanted to. I never saw one of you up close.” Her gaze dropped and he had the sense she was embarrassed, or ashamed.
“One of me?”
She replied, but he didn’t know the word. She saw his confusion and said in soft, tentative English, “A lander?”
“Oh.” Sure. Made sense. Legs = lander. Tail = mermaid. “You never saw one?”
She shook her head, and pushed her dripping hair out of her face.
He reached out and put his hand on hers. “Well. Um. Can’t say that anymore, huh?”
She smiled at him. “Sí. Corretta.”
He nodded. Enough chit-chat, the patch of sand she was bleeding on was getting darker. “Okay, you stay put, I’m gonna get Mom. She’s a nurse, she’ll know—“
“No!”
He tried Italian again. “Non siamo tutti cattivi. Um…la mamma non farà…argh…”
She was shaking her head and replied in English. “It is not that. I took injury—took harm?”
“Got hurt,” he prompted.
“Got hurt while I broke the rules. I cannot let your dam see me, it will bring more trouble.”
“But—“
“Please don’t!”
“Okay.” He realized she was trembling all over. “How can I fix you? Tell me what to do. Are you gonna go into shock? My mom told me about shock and it sounds bad.”
“I am not shocked.” She shifted on the sand and sucked in a pained breath. “Faugh!”
“You’re really pale.”
“I live under water,” she snapped. “Naturalmente sono pallido!”
“O-kay. I was just askin’.”
She looked away again. “Scusa,” she muttered. “A long day.”
“That’s okay. I had one, too.” Nine-hour flight to Germany, another hour in the air to Milan, and the time difference was screwy. Which was why his mother was unconscious in one of the bedrooms—her body thought it was 3:00 a.m.
“You truly wish to help me?”
“Yeah. ‘Course. Tell me what to do.”
Which is how he ended up helping her (after she grew legs, which had been cool and only a tiny bit scary) into the enormous tub in the guest bedroom furthest from his snoring mother. The pool had horrified her (“You cannot expect me to swim in bleach!”), but the hot tub was big enough for four. Once they had cleaned out her wound (she hissed the entire time, like a really pretty snake) and filled the tub with clean hot water, she was quick enough to hop in, and relaxed for the first time in half an hour. Her tail came back a lot quicker than it had gone away. Maybe it hurts to change when she’s injured? Is it rude to ask?
“So you have legs when you want ‘em?”
“Sí.” She had stretched out and was idly waving her—fins? Flukes? “And a good thing, too! Ahhhh, that feels—quello è meglio.” She looked straight at him. “Grazie. It’s better for me to be in clean clear water. To...ah...pulito? Clean? And then rest for a bit?”
“Okay. It’s not like there’s an emergency room at the bottom of Lake Como.” When she had no comment, he added, “Is there an emergency room at the bottom of Lake Como?” When she still hadn’t answered, he tried again. “Uh...pronto soccorso?”
She giggled. “No. Perdona il mio pessimo inglese.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry—your English is way better than my Italian. How’d you even learn English?”
“The way you learn Italian—you hear it. And my dam is fluente.
“This is only the third time I’ve been here,” he admitted. “My absentee father brings Mom and me here every summer.”
“Your what?”
“That’s why my mom calls him. I’m the product of a one-night stand!” That’s kind of a weird thing to be proud of. Oh, well. “So he sends her money to take care of me and we visit him once a year.”
“That sounds nice,” she replied politely.
“Naw, it’s weird. He has no idea how to talk to me. Or any kid, I think. He keeps asking what college I’m going to. I’m nine,” he added, in case he looked older than he was. “I don’t even know what we’re having for supper, how’m I supposed to know where I want to be in ten years?” Am I talking too much? I think I’m talking too much. She’s so pretty. And nice! “I like your tail,” he said, because it was all he could think of.
“Thank you.” That pleased her, and she wiggled it for him. Her scales were silvery gray, like a whitefish, broadest at her hips and tapering to silver fins where her feet would have been. Then she submerged for what seemed like an hour, then popped back up, her green-black eyes shining. “I am remiss! I am Noemi.”
“My name’s Jack.”
“Thank you for helping me, Jack. I am glad to have met a lander.” When he held out his hand, she looked at it, then tentatively took it by the tips of his fingers, which made him laugh.
“Naw. Like this.” He shook her hand. “See?”
“Sí. Thank you. I am glad to learn new customs.”
“Are you in school? Like the big kids?” She was older, but not that much older. High school, maybe? He’d tried not to stare when she grew legs and began to limp up the beach, but couldn’t help noticing her nectarine-sized boobs and deep green pubic hair. He already knew he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about this; they’d think he was a loon. Well. Mom, maybe. She’s always saying she’s seen everything. Literally: “I am a nurse and I’ve seen everything.” Let’s put it to the test!
“Sí, I...I sentite la scuola? I listen to the school, but I am allowed to remain without my dam—she went to her sister’s acqua.” He puzzled over “listen to the school” on and off for months. It wasn’t until later that he found out that mermaids were telepathic. So she could “hear” the teachers, even if they were miles away. “I have fourteen years.”
“Like a freshman?”
She just looked at him and shrugged.
“You live here?” He gestured to the lake view. “In Lake Como?”
She nodded as she squinted at her wound. They’d eventually gotten all the sand out of it and the bleeding had nearly stopped. “I do. You are not supposed to be here.”
“Oh.” He’d been kneeling beside the tub, but started to get to his feet. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”
“No, no. Forgive—I said it the wrong way. This house is empty most of the year and sometimes I...” She trailed off and looked away.
“You come here sometimes?” The idea of a teenage mermaid sneaking in and sort of hanging out delighted him. Did she get into the booze cabinet? Prank call people? Make microwave s’mores and watch R rated movies? Did she also know how to pick locks? “That’s awesome!”
“That is why I came here. When I saw you I almost swam away.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”
“You are?” Her dark brows arched. “I am happy you are not offended. I was led to believe landers are...” She groped for the word. “Territoriale?”
“Naw. Not all of us. If you get hurt again you should come here right away,” he said, nodding. She might have taken it for another lander mannerism, as she nodded back with the exact same emphasis. “If I’m here, I’ll help you. And if I’m not, you can...y’know. Hang out. Send for help—call your mom?—or just hang out until you’re better or whatever. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, and then flicked her tail at him, quick and sharp, causing a wave of water to arc out of the tub and drench his front.
“Aw, jeez, I can’t believe you did that!” He wiped water out of his eyes, thanking God that his mom napped like a comatose patient.
“I cannot as well,” she giggled, and it was that fast and that simple: he loved her.
*****
“Wow!” In next to no time, Noemi had snagged another fish, rocketed up from the bottom of the lake, and spat it into the boat. She grinned at him, her scary-sharp teeth on display. (The first time she’d done that, he’d nearly shrieked.) “You’re so fast! Also, yuck! It’s cool, though,” he assured her.
She clung to the side of the little rowboat, not even out of breath. “Anyone can do it,” she said with a convincing attempt at modesty.
“Well, don’t look at me, because I sure can’t.” He looked down at the flopping fish: a pike and two whitefish. “I think we’ve got enough. Can you push me to that island, please?”
“Certo.” Then she disappeared again, and he felt the boat surge forward. The little green rowboat had been a belated 12th birthday gift from his absentee father. Jack had started taking swimming lessons roughly ten minutes after meeting Noemi, and promised to always wear the life jacket, so his mother relented and this summer, let him take the boat out by himself.
Well. Mom thought he was by himself.
Noemi beached the boat while he hopped out onto the sand. She’d shown him the island last summer, and they had picnics there all the time. “Picnic” meant that Jack’s mom would fix him sandwiches and fruit and pudding cups, and Noemi would catch and devour raw fish and thoroughly gross him out. The whole thing was pretty awesome.
“I did that thing I said,” he said, settling onto the blanket while Naomi picked through the flopping fish. “Tried sushi? It wasn’t totally terrible.”
“So open minded,” she teased. “Especially for a lander.”
“Careful! You still haven’t tried a burger, America’s greatest contribution in the history of everything.”
“Faugh! Nor shall I.” She’d selected a whitefish and promptly bit off its head, then plowed through the thing while it was still wiggling. In the same amount of time he consumed half a chicken sandwich and two plums. They both washed their hands in the lake, and when they were done he sat back on his heels and watched her.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he reminded her sadly.
“I know.” She grew her tail—he still couldn’t get over the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it transformation—and rolled over into the water. The lake bed dropped sharply, she only had to swim a stroke until it was deep enough for her to be comfortable. “Mi mancherai.”
“I’m gonna miss you, too. It’s gonna be forever until it’s next summer.”
“The time will pass quickly, Jack.”
No. It never did.
*****
“Noemi!”
“Ciao, Jack!”
The moment his mother had collapsed on her bed in face-down gratitude, he’d headed for the beach and the long dock that poked into the lake like a finger. He had no idea how she heard him underwater, but her head had popped up and she covered the distance—fifty feet? sixty?—in seconds. He could never get over her speed and silence in the water; it was the coolest and most beautiful thing ever.
“I’m back.” Argh. Dumb. Totally obvious I’m back.
“Oh, sei cresciuto! No, that is not—you are bigger!”
“It’s okay, I’ve been working on my Italian, too. And yeah. I’m bigger.” Not big enough yet, unfortunately, but getting there. Eighth grade. Big kid school. But she was an even bigger kid—eighteen now. He kicked off his shoes, then sat on the edge and let his feet dangle in the water. “You are, too. Can you pla—“ No. That was a kid thing, and it was important she not see him like that. “Can we get together tomorrow? My mom’s gone all morning. You could hang out in the pool.”
She shuddered. “Schifoso. Ah...no. No, thank you. I dislike swimming in bleach.”
“I remember. I got my absentee father to make it a saltwater pool.”
She giggled; by now she had heard all about how Jack’s parents had met, and knew about his father’s odd idea of father/son time. “How kind!” She smiled, which always made his chest feel funny, like it was suddenly too small. “But I prefer not to. Troppo sodio. If you wish to drive your little boat to one of the islands, we could have another picnic.”
“Really?” He was delighted, and didn’t bother hiding it. “That would be awesome! Yeah, let’s do that!”
She splashed him. “You are easy to please, Jack.”
Nuh-uh. Not really. Ask anybody.
“And something else. Um.” Suddenly his toes were very interesting, because he couldn’t stop looking down at them. “You were right, too. About Mom. She still doesn’t get it.”
And never would, he was beginning to think. Over time, the conversation evolved, from “Oh, you helped a mermaid and now you’re friends? That’s amazing, sweetie!”
To: “Really? She remembered you even though it’s been a whole year? That’s cute.”
To: “Still on this mermaid thing, kiddo?”
To: “Come on, Jack. You’re almost in high school now.”
Eventually he figured it’d be: “Jack, you’re sixty. Let it go before your kids put you in a home.”
He peeked up in time to see her shrug. “Ah. Well.” She’d finally agreed to let Jack tell his mother, and the result had been exactly as Noemi had predicted. “You must not think ill of your dam, Jack. We are good at hiding, all of us. We always have been.” There was a pause, and then she continued carefully. “I know you could do so in moments, but I would prefer you not prove my existence, per favorei.”
He shook his head. “No, I promised, so that’s the end of it until...well, until whenever. Until you come out. Like LGBT people do.”
“LGBT people?”
“Never mind. I can’t blame you guys. You probably should stay hidden, or some Army scientist somewhere will want to catch you and—“ What are you doing? Trying to scare her?
“Jack? Are you well?”
He shrugged. “You said it wouldn’t change anything, that’d you’d still be a secret and no one would believe me anyway.” He sighed. “And you are. And she didn’t. And she thinks I’m too old for stories now.”
“Ah, in that she is wrong. No one is too old for stories.”
It had been another wonderful visit, and he was as in love with her as he had been that first day. Every year he wondered: is this the year I “outgrow” Noemi? (Spoiler alert: it never was.) And later, after the picnic, when he was back in the villa and she’d swam off to do whatever she did when she wasn’t picnicking with besotted landers, he tracked down the housekeeper his absentee father hired and asked what troppo sodio meant.
“Too much salt,” had been the answer, and it made him want to laugh while simultaneously kicking himself. Of course she wouldn’t want to swim in salt water. She lived in a freshwater lake! God, I’m an idiot.
He also read more books and did more research, a task that got easier every year. (Gozzi’s History of Navigation on Lake Como was friggin’ impossible to get through when you were at a 5th grade reading level.)
Turned out Como was one of the deepest lakes in Europe, with dark depths of 1,300 feet. Small friggin’ wonder anyone who claimed they’d seen a mermaid were few and far between over the centuries, and that no one believed the few.
It reminded him of the bind he was in. He had to grow up to be with Noemi, but even as an adult, he would have to keep her secret. And he couldn’t expect her to just stop living in Lake Como and move to a farm in Wisconsin. By now he knew she didn’t have much family at all, just an aunt and a distant mother (really distant...she lived in a lake in the Alps). She had an absentee father, too. Really absentee—Noemi’s mother had never seen him again; Naomi had never met him. Apparently that wasn’t atypical for their kind. (“Your species outnumbers mine by millions, Jack. It’s our natural inclination to keep to ourselves.”)
Anyway, the point was, even if she said “Why, Jack, I love you too, let us marry and be together forever”, there was still the age difference, the living situation, and the whole “we’re two different species” thing.
Every aspect of the situation added up to what seemed impossible, but he didn’t give a shit, and never had. Mermaids—Undersea Folk—myths come to life, that was impossible. The rest of it was just a problem.
*****
“Ohhhhhhhh.” Noemi’s delighted groan as she slipped into the heated pool went straight to Jack’s groin, dammit. (In his groin’s defense, at age seventeen pretty much everything went straight to it.) She submerged for a good five minutes, then popped back up. “I cannot believe you went to the trouble!”
“What trouble?” Oh, good. His voice wasn’t cracking as much as usual. Fucking puberty, it was a monster. “It’s no more trouble to hire someone to take care of a freshwater pool than one full of bleach.” Ugh. Not too much privileged b.s. in that statement, right? “We’re not rich!” he added.
“I am aware,” she replied, amused by his sudden vehemence. “Only your absentee father is. Ah. Was. I...grieve? For you? I have sorrow on your behalf?”
He nodded (she had the words right, kind of), then shook his head (but they didn’t apply here). “Thanks. Heart attack. That’s really common among us landers.”
She nodded, which made her deep green hair swirl around her, and dammit! Take the day off, groin, for the love of God! “Yes. Because of all the fat you consume.”
“Man cannot live by raw walleye and eels alone.”
“Don’t knock it,” she shot back, and he laughed. They’d both picked up the other’s idioms over the years. When he dropped his chem text on his foot, half the class heard his, “Faugh!”
“But you’ve got a good point—his diet didn’t help. The man ate like every meal was his last. He’d butter the butter on his toast. He took four sugars in his cappuccinos! Does that happen to you guys? Heart attacks?”
“No, we are prone to expire from oxygen poisoning. And sharks.” At the look on his face, she laughed. “No sharks here, Jack.”
“No, thank God. So, you, um. Like the pool?”
“I love my home, but this is delightful. I don’t know how Mama and her sister stand theirs. Lago di Garda? The Alps in February, faugh!”
“Uh-huh.” As she’d heard about his family, so he had, over the years, heard about hers. He’d offered to help her get to Lake Garda to visit, and she’d given him a look like the time he suggested she try broiled pike. Huge breach of etiquette, apparently. A mermaid’s lake was her castle, apparently. “Listen, so this house—“ He gestured, thinking ‘house’ was underplaying it by quite a lot. Villa? Tiny castle? Ancient dwelling? “It’s mine now. Officially. My dad left it to me, plus money to maintain the thing.” It had been the only thing he’d left Jack, but since it was the only thing he wanted, that was just fine. There hadn’t even been a funeral, so Jack’s mom poured them both a glass of wine and they toasted him on one of the villa’s terraces. “So you should stay here whenever you want.”
“Yes, Jack.” She yawned and luxuriated in stretching, silvery-gray scales flashing in the sunshine. Blinding, but in all the best ways. “You tell me this every summer.”
“Yeah, because I get the feeling you don’t do it.”
“I dislike being here without you.” She was doing that thing where she wouldn’t look straight at him. He’d learned she did this when she was shy. Not body shy, of course—he’d seen her bare breasts every summer for years—but nervous about what she was saying...or thinking. “It makes me, ah, mi manchi di più.”
“I miss you, too,” he said quietly, and now he couldn’t look at her. “Every day I’m not here.” He made a conscious effort to meet her gaze, forced breeziness into his tone. Not yet. “So, swim tomorrow? And a picnic? And you’ll gross me out by catching half a dozen eels and then sucking them down like spaghetti? Like always?”
He was relieved to see her smile.
“Certo.”
*****
He let himself into the Wisconsin house just in time to see Dr. Fredrika Bimm explaining mermaids to CNN’s Anderson Cooper. His mother was sitting on the footrest in front of the TV, back ramrod straight as it was when she was giving something her full attention. She turned, saw him, and was on her feet in half a blink.
“Oh, Jack.” She crossed the room, hugged him, rested her head on his shoulder. When he was younger, he assumed when he was big, he’d always know what to do regardless of the situation—all the adults around him always seem to have things under control, so he would, too, right? (Also when he was younger, he’d lick Post-It notes because he liked the taste.) “I don’t know what to say.”
Although the moment should have been sweet (“Ah-haaa! Now who looks delusional?”) her shocked dismay just made him feel sorry for her. “It’s okay, Mom. The odds that I was actually right were millions to one against.”
She was shaking her head, rolling her forehead back and forth across his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry. God, and I kept teasing you about it! All those years.” She looked up at him and he was startled to see she was close to tears. “Please, I’m very sorry. Forgive me.”
“Of course.” He waited until she stopped using her forehead as a rolling pin, then added, “Is this a good time to tell you about the Tooth Fairy?”
That helped; she snorted and jabbed an elbow in his side. He took after his absentee father—tall, lean, brunette, dark eyed—while his mother was short, blonde, plump, with bright blue eyes. She’d watched him get taller and taller over the years with fondness, exasperation, and occasionally irritation. Even now, when he was a head taller and living on his own, the power balance had never shifted. But seeing her genuine dismay and remorse as she realized he’d been telling the truth for over a decade was as close as things ever came to being even between them.
“Are you in town long?”
He shook his head. “No. That’s why I stopped in. I’m going to be gone for—for a while, I think.” I hope.
She was already nodding. “The lake.”
“Yeah.”
“Because now the world knows.”
“Yeah.”
She was pulling him into the kitchen so she could talk and make him eat something at the same time. He’d long given up on the “I ate something earlier” tactic, and tried to show up with an empty stomach.
“Tell me about your friend. Noemi.”
So he did.
*****
The lake. Again. He’d parked the rental car, circled around the villa, and walked straight out onto the dock. It belatedly occurred to him that it would be a bad idea to look for her the way he usually did: diving in and swimming around. If she was expecting him, she often heard him from an astonishing distance, but she wasn’t expecting him. Really should have thought this through more. Maybe break out the SCUBA gear?
“Jack?”
Well, that wasn’t right. Wasn’t Noemi. Couldn’t be; the voice came from behind him, and...from over his head? He turned and there she was, on the balcony off the living room, two stories up. He retraced his steps until he was standing just below her. The backdrop of the cream-colored villa made her deep green hair seem darker, her face paler. I should stop staring.
Can’t stop staring.
Like a moron, he said the first thing that came into his cavernous head: “What are you doing up there?”
She flushed a little. “Well. It’s cold out, Jack. And...you said...”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, ‘course I did. I just—I didn’t know you—wait, are you wearing my jersey?”
“It’s cold out,” she reminded him.
He was still laughing, but got himself under control long enough to ask, “Can I come up?”
She blinked down at him. “The villa belongs to you, Jack. Of course you can come up.”
To us. I hope. He hurried back around the side, let himself in through the front door and up the stairs. Of all the things he’d expected to find her doing, wintering in his villa while watching CNN was far, far down on the list.
She met him in the entryway. “It is good to see you, Jack.”
“You, too.” And as she had done dozens of times, she stepped into his embrace and hugged him. And as he had done dozens of time, he inhaled the scent of her—the lake, sunshine, and something that was just her—and consciously worked not to bury his face in the dark wonder of her hair. His jersey (Gronk, from his Patriots phase) was cut low in front and ended about mid-thigh, and wasn’t that gorgeous? “Are you scarfing the last of my mom’s ice cream? You are!”
“Stop that.” She hurriedly set the gelato di fragola aside. “You said I could.”
He looked over her shoulder and saw what she was watching. “So, you’re out.” He stepped back, looked at the TV. Dr. Bimm, a sternly pretty woman with pale skin, blue-green hair, and wearing a lab coat for some reason, was being interviewed by someone else this time. She was still scowling, though. Did the woman not have any other facial expression in her repertoire? “All of you.”
She nodded. “All of us. I can hardly believe it. Centuries of staying hidden, and then—“ She tried to snap her fingers, but she’d never gotten the hang of it (“Why would anyone who spends the bulk of their time underwater need to do this?”). “Like that! The world knows.”
“Did you know it was going to happen?”
She shook her head.
“Do you know her?” Dr. Bimm was snapping at the anchor that, jeez, of course mermaids didn’t grant wishes, what was wrong with him?
Noemi snorted, a deep sound that always sounded hilarious coming out of her frame. “No. She certainly does not seem to suffer fools gladly. Or even grudgingly. But I am sure she—she is perfectly—ah—lovely.”
“You’re a shit liar, Noemi.”
She burst out laughing. “You know me well, Jack. She is an ornery cagna to be sure.” At his gape, she paused. “Is that right? Ornery?”
“Uh. Yeah. Sorry, it’s just—I’ve never heard you swear before.”
“She is a figure of some controversy,” she acknowledged, “but our king and our prince adore her.”
“They do?” Why? “Uh, I mean—of course they do. Sure. Makes total sense.”
“They do,” Noemi repeated firmly, “and thus the Folk follow their lead.”
“I keep forgetting you guys are a monarchy. It’s so...old-fashioned.”
She frowned. “If we are going to discuss the pros and cons of various governing bodies, that is a slimy surface for any lander.”
He already had his hands up in surrender. “Right. You’re right. Let’s keep the government out of this. Yours and mine.”
“You are wise.” She cast a longing look at the gelato, then continued. “And like her or loathe her, Dr. Bimm is clever in her own right.” She nodded to the screen (“Who cares what my natural hair color is? Come up with a question that isn’t tediously inane or I’m out.”) “She is a strong advocate for us, though she is a meticcio. That is fine and more than fine for this one.”
“This one, too,” he agreed, pointing to himself. “Also, will you marry me? Please?”
The smile faded and she took a step back from him, the exact opposite direction he wanted her to go. Annnnd now I’m going to kill myself.
“This again, Jack?” she asked quietly, and she wouldn’t look at him.
“This again,” he agreed. She’d only put a couple of feet between them. It felt like a mile. “I asked you before.”
“When you were nine,” she replied, exasperated.
“And eleven, and fifteen. Now I’m asking you again.
She wouldn’t look at him. “You do not remember what I told you the last time? And the time before that?”
“I remember. You said I was a kid who didn’t know what I wanted. That when I grew up I’d feel different. So I graduated high school and went to college and majored in environmental studies and have steady work and a checking account and I never get carded anymore so I’m as grown-up as I can possibly be. There’s just no room anywhere in me for me to mature. I’m finished.” He paused and, when she said nothing, continued. “Ta-dah?”
“It’s a smash,” she said, clearly uneasy. “Something you felt as a child. It is not a real thing.”
“Wha—crush. You mean crush.” At her shrug, he added, “It’s not a crush. And I’m not a child. And the older we get, the more the age difference shrinks. I didn’t care when you were twenty and I won’t when you’re thirty and fifty and sixty. You’re who I want. You’ve always been who I want.”
“Jack—“
“You were right to be wary when I was a kid. But things are different now—“ He pointed to the TV. “And not just because I’m old enough.”
“Jack, I could never take you away from your life. You need to settle with a lander, as your kind does.”
“I’ve tried,” he said simply. “But I could never fool myself. I dated girls on the swim team, for God’s sake. Anyone I tried to be with, they were just a substitute for you. After a while, it just seemed mean. To keep doing that. To them. To myself.” He shrugged. “I haven’t been on a date in two years.”
“Idiota.”
“Well, yeah, but not because of that.” Then the import of her words hit him. “Wait—you’re worried about taking me away from my life? You think being with me will foil my subconscious urge to marry a lander?” Oh my God. Oh please, please tell me I’ve got this right. “So age isn’t an issue. You—“ He took a breath and said the words he had thought but never said until now. “You have feelings for me, too.”
“Of course I have feelings for—“ She sort of waved her arm at him, encompassing him, the villa, possibly the lake. “You are everything to me. But I could not—“
He was closing the distance between them and
(Thank you, God! Next time you need a favor, call me!)
she wasn’t backing away. “You’re everything to me, too, and you have to know that,” he said quietly. “You wouldn’t be taking me away from my life because you are my life, and have been for so long. The only time I’m fully alive is here; the rest? The tedious fucking endless months until the next summer? It’s just waiting to be with you again. Noemi, I’m freezing my ass off because you apparently don’t believe in heaters—“
“You have thick walls and a heavy roof,” she snapped, pointing to said heavy roof. “You do not need additional heat, you wasteful lander.”
“Well, this wasteful lander is asking you to marry me. For the last time, I hope. Because it’s not just that I love you and you love me. It’s that we don’t have to hide. Now everyone can know the thing I’ve only ever told one person in my life.” Well, counting Noemi, two.
He was close. Kissing close. And she was looking up at him. She reached out, brushed her thumb over his lips. “Amate una sirena.”
“Yes.” He kissed her thumb. “That I love a mermaid.”
“Jack...we are too different.”
He almost laughed. “That’s putting it mildly, and it’s no impediment to loving you. Plenty of others have had a tougher time with this. It’s not like we’re Romeo and Juliet. Nobody’s poisoning anybody. Most likely. No one’s at war.”
“I prefer to be immersed in water at least 95% of the time,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. And it’s no problem. I still have the SCUBA gear in the garage. And I’ve been practicing—I can hold my breath for three minutes and eight seconds now.”
“A staggering accomplishment,” she said, and with a straight face, too!
“Well. I don’t like to brag.”
“Our children may or may not be able to grow tails,” she warned.
“I love your tail, and I’ll love their theoretical tails, and this place has two living rooms, seven bedrooms, and five oversized tubs. Plenty of room for kids.”
There was a long, terrifying silence, which Noemi finally broke. “I must bind my life to yours,” she said, forehead creased into adorable wrinkles as she thought about it. “You have never once tried to change me. In fact, you have gone to great trouble to accommodate my needs from the very first day we met. Though you’re still very childish about the eels.”
“Because they’re eels! Yuck.”
“Eels aside, you have always accepted me as I am. I have been with Folk who could not do the same.”
“Can we not talk about—it’s great that you’re up for the binding, by the way, and I’m the happiest wasteful lander on the planet right now—but can we not talk about the guys you’ve been with at this particular moment?”
She rolled her eyes. “Landers and their reluctance to discuss their biological imperatives, faugh! But I would be a poor mate if I did not indulge you as you have indulged me.”
“Yes you would.” Whoa. Stop kidding around and pay attention. Something magical is happening. “So that’s a yes. Affirmative. Sí. Oui. Jawohl. We’re getting married.” Pleasepleaseplease. “We’re getting married?” So I can officially make suicide my Plan C?
She was the one to close the distance this time, and brushed her nose back and forth across his throat. He clamped his hands on her forearms so he wouldn’t grab her ass and haul her up against him. “Yi!”
“Sorry.” He forced his grip to loosen. Nice. She lives fathoms deep and has a body that can tolerate stresses that would shatter your spine, and you still managed to bruise her the first time you let your guard down.
“You did not harm me, I was only startled.” She smiled up at him. “And yes, Jack. Of course, my own dear one. I, too, have waited long enough.”
“And listen—since we both just booted the other out of the friend zone—“
“Cosa stai dicendo?”
“—I don’t want you to think we have to rush anything. We can take it slow, if you want. If—“
She shook her head. “We should—I wish to—facciamo cazzo.”
He hugged her to him, then did the translation and held her at arm’s length so he could see her face. “Did you just say making fuck?”
“Chiudi ora, Jack.”
“You got it,” he replied, and kissed her. At once, her arms were around him and, given her strength, he should have been alarmed.
(He was not alarmed. At all.)
Then he was yanking at her—well, his—jersey, letting her walk him backward while she struggled with his shirt, and they both realized they had to stop kissing for half a second to get the shirts off.
(Pass. Deal breaker.)
He felt his back hit the bedroom door closest to the living room, blindly reached behind him, and groped until he got the door open. Noemi was right behind him, actually kicking the door closed and walking him all the way to the bed. She broke the kiss and he definitely didn’t whine in disappointment, and then she divested him of shirt, belt, pants, briefs.
“Far too many clothes,” she growled, “what is it with landers and your love of layering fabric?”
“Just a wasteful survival mechanism that we’ve handed down for thousands of years ahhhhh cold!”
She’d planted a hand in the middle of his chest and gave him a gentle shove, and the comforter felt like ice beneath him. “At least you left me with my so—ah, c’mon!”
“Faugh.” But she took pity on him and left his socks alone, and now she straddled him, leaned down, took a kiss. “I will overlook your foot covering this once.”
“My covered feet thank you.” He was beyond grateful, now, that they’d had the STD talk last year, under the guise of two platonic friends talking about hypothetical former and future lovers. He couldn’t imagine trying to have a rational discussion about—about anything, really, just now. STDs. The economy. The series closer of Game of Thrones. Grappa is overrated. Nope.
His hands went to her waist, slid up, gently cupped her breasts. Her nipples were stiff and pale pink and being allowed to touch them made it hard to breathe. Sure, he’d seen them a hundred times, but so? This time was different. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.”
“I find you striking as well,” she replied, and leaned forward so he could kiss her breasts. “I always had. But I never dared think, once you attained maturity, that it was mutual.”
“How much time did we waste—“ No. No, not now. It didn’t matter that they’d both hid their feelings for the other far too long. What mattered was happening now, and he wouldn’t cheat the experience by torturing himself with “what if?” games. “Doesn’t matter. I love you.”
“Ti amo.” She was leaving a trail of kisses down his throat, chest, stomach, which was fantastic. Now she was nuzzling his pubic hair and he was trying not to expire on the spot from a combination of lust and happiness. The second he felt her breath on the head of his cock, his hips jerked and he reached down to pull her up. “We’ll be done in thirty seconds if you keep that up.”
“So?” Was she—was she pouting a little? Oh my God. That’s adorably hot. “Then we can go again.”
“I’m trying to find the flaw in your logic but it seems pretty faultless.” He kissed her mouth like he was trying to taste her smile and she hummed in satisfaction against him. He kissed and nuzzled everywhere he could reach—her throat, the slope of her breasts, the deep green tufts of hair in her armpit, which made her laugh. “Stop it,” she said between giggles, negating her command as she pulled him closer.
“I love your hair.” This was muffled against her flesh as he took his chance to work down her body.
“I noticed.”
“So modest!”
“Hush, it was the literal truth, I did notice. Nothing to do with modesty—oh. Oh, do that again, per favorei.”
He obliged, running his fingers through her pubic hair, then circling her clit while just barely touching her. She reached down, found his hand, popped his thumb in her mouth, sucked, gave him his hand back. He obliged the unspoken invitation and ran his thumb up and down and around, just barely dipping inside her, then softly teasing her clit again.
She let out a moan he could feel reverberate through her and reached for his hands again. “Now, please,” she managed, spreading her thighs as he settled between her legs. “We have waited long enough. Thirty seconds is fine but only if you are inside me for every one of those seconds.”
“Again: trying to find the flaw in your logic and there isn’t any oh Jesus that’s wonderful.” She’d taken him in hand, so to speak, and was guiding him into her. “I think I might be having a heart attack.”
“Eat less fat,” she advised, locking her ankles behind his back and lifting her hips to meet his. He entered her with one long stroke and they both groaned. Then he set the pace, meeting her for each thrust while she clung to him, while her eyes rolled up and she tightened around him, muscular contractions clamping down on his cock
(Jesus that’s fucking exquisite)
as she stiffened in his arms.
“I can feel you,” he gasped into her shoulder. “I can feel you coming ah God, God—“
“Don’t stop,” she managed, and thank goodness, because he was pretty sure stopping would have been impossible. Pretty soon breathing would be impossible. “Don’t—oh. Ohhhhhh.”
He groaned an affirmative as he fucked them through their orgasms, stopping when indescribable pleasure began to morph into oversensitivity (which was just a short trip to chafing, and thus to be avoided). He collapsed over her, which wasn’t the best etiquette, but figured if she could bear Lake Como, she could take his two hundred pounds for a minute or two.
After what felt like a year, he could think straight. “I think that was slightly more than thirty seconds.”
“Oh, yes. Forty-five at least.”
“Maybe even sixty.”
“Now, Jack. You know that was not—yi!”
“More where that came from, saucy wench.” He managed to roll off of her and poked her in the rib again as he did. “Oh my God. You’re incredible. Fantastic. I can’t feel my legs. I love you. That was a long time coming, no pun intended. Jesus, there’s so much oxytocin in my system right now, I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
“Is that what is wrong with you?” she teased.
“There’s a long, long list of what’s wrong with me, which you’ll discover over time.” He reached out, cupped her cheek. “God, you are gorgeous.”
She nuzzled into his palm, eyes more black than green just then. He couldn’t get over the contrasts in her: she looked delicate, but was stronger than he was. Her pale skin seemed almost translucent, but her tail was dense and powerful. She preferred to live in a lake, but snuck into the villa for ice cream. She loved raw fish but hated mashed potatoes.
“I like you like this,” she murmured.
“Sweaty and half-conscious? Excellent. It’s good you’ve set a low bar.”
“I will not have to wait and wait for it to be summer again.”
“Nope. I’m moving in permanently as soon as I think I can stand.” He was already telecommuting from Wisconsin to Cape Cod, analyzing data for the marine biologists at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. His boss didn’t care where he lived as long as the data kept coming. “Might be half an hour or so.”
She giggled. “Poor stamina, even for a lander. I shall overlook it.” And then, out of nowhere: “Do you want pups, Jack? Bambini?”
“With you? Sure. Of course. And it’s occurring to me that we probably should have had the birth control talk before we boned, as the author of The Joy of Sex would have put it.”
“Boned.” She rolled her eyes.
“Banged?”
“Faugh.”
“Humped?”
“Stop that at once.”
“Teasing aside.” He reached for her hand, kissed her palm. “I don’t care if we have zero pups or half a dozen.”
“It will be difficult,” she warned.
“Raising merbabies or our impending marriage?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know the half of it. My mom wants to meet you. She knows I came here to ask you.”
“You—“ Noemi raised herself up on one elbow, eyes wide. “Truly, Jack?”
“Yeah. She saw the news and since your secret was out, I was able to tell her the story of you (and me).”
“And how did she accept the news?”
“You seem super tense all of a sudden. C’mere.” He reached out, gently tugged, and she nestled up against him and put her head on his shoulder. “Are you worried my mom won’t like you?” he asked the top of her head. “She’ll love you.”
“I hope what you say is true. Where I am from, a dam’s opinion on a potential mate—“
“You can ditch ‘potential’ right now, Noemi. We’re not each other’s ‘potential’ anything.”
That earned him a tentative smile. “Yes. But her opinion is very, very important.”
“Well, yeah—in my culture, too. But you don’t have anything to worry about. She felt so shitty after not believing me all those years, she probably wouldn’t care if I was marrying a shark.”
“Shark,” Noemi sniffed with all the scorn of an apex predator. “Faugh.”
“She wanted to know all about you.”
Noemi perked up at once. “Truly, Jack?”
“Of course. I’d told her I was going to you.”
“You did?”
“’Course. And depending on what I text her, she’ll be here this weekend. Or not.”
“I am glad she was made happy by what you told her. I should like to meet your dam. And you shall meet mine. I do not know if mine will love you—“
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“But she will be pleased that you please me.”
“Good to know. So there’s a trip to the Alps in my future.”
“Oh, yes.”
“We’re gonna be having sex in a lot of lakes, aren’t we?”
“Oh yes!”
“Time to cut some strategic holes in my SCUBA suit, I guess.”
His sirena laughed so hard she fell off the bed.
THE END