Brine (15 page)

She stretched her hands across his back, spreading her fingers, pressing him even tighter. Their heads tilted, merging their faces, locking their lips. A long kiss. A kiss that made her feel as if she were riding a wave all the way to the shore, lifted and suspended and swept away all at the same time. She felt unsteady, as if the surface beneath her were surging, billowing.

He reached a hand and searched for the cord to the blinds. One yank and the blinds tilted closed. She lifted his shirt as he tugged the drawstring on her pants. His brawny hands immediately glided across the back of her thighs, and she felt delicate and powerful at the same time. They continued kissing, his strong hands holding her cheeks, cradling her face like a treasure he would never let go.

They stumbled instinctively across the room, him leading the way to his bed with a tender tug, his lips still moving all over her face and neck. The eagerness between them hummed, vibrated. They fell onto the bed and became a coil of arms and legs, bodies spliced, desires intertwined.

He slid his hand up her shirt. His nuzzling was gentle, smooth, but as they continued to kiss, the tenderness dropped away, the caresses became all at once combustible, his mild strokes slipped into a fiery aggression. Abruptly, he groped and pinched and pushed her with exacerbated fervor.

She pressed her hands on his bare chest, turning her head to peel his lips from hers, shoving him away.

“Easy there, tiger,” she said.

He was disoriented. “What? What’s wrong?”

She looked at him with a muddled expression. “You were being so—you were being sweet and then all of a sudden you started—you were kind of hurting me.”

His face collapsed, and she gently put her hands back on his chest.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Let’s just slow it down a bit. We’ll get there.”

He moved back toward her slowly. He kissed her again, this time more softly. She relaxed back into the rhythm of their bodies, overcome by the way he moved so perfectly with her. The pleasure was excruciating.

Until the movements changed again. He pushed up onto his hands and took heaving breaths. She opened her eyes at the panting and saw that his eyes were remote, glassed-over. The anger was back. He was hurting her.

“Hector!”

He didn’t respond.

“Hector, stop!”

He didn’t.

She screamed, only fueling his rage. She yelled, screeched, and thrust him back, punching him in the chest. He rolled off and lay panting beside her.

“What the hell just happened!” she yelled.

He turned his eyes away and said nothing.

“Holy shit! You seem so—it’s like you
hate
me.”

He turned back to look at her, black irises reminding her of a moonless sky.

“I do,” he said.

“You hate me
?”

“No. Not really. Not all of me.”

“What the hell for?” She sat up, resting on an elbow, trying to glean clues from his face. “What could possibly make you
that mad
?”

He looked over at her, his chest still heaving.

“You know I can’t change,” he said.

“That’s
it
? That’s what made you get so rough with me?” She was mad now. “The land isn’t such a terrible place, Hector. It was only weeks ago that I found out I had this—
aquatic option
—in my life.” She threw her hands up. “And I’m not even sure I want it.”

“Grass is always greener,” he said. He started to get out of bed, but she stopped him.

“Wait! What the—the grass is always greener!
Are you freaking kidding me
? You don’t have to live down this dirt road with these two old ladies. You can go anywhere. Do anything. I don’t get it. Why do you stay here?”

“There’s more to it.”

“Like
what
?”

He said nothing.

“Tell me. I seriously want to know.”

He turned and looked at her with a tentative expression. “It’s different for the males.”

“In what way? Elaborate, please.”

He searched for the words, rubbing his head with his hands. “If a male can’t change, it causes more—” He looked up. “I don’t know—it can be aggravating. Torturous.”

She sat back against the headboard. Déjà vu. Maggie had talked to her about this.

“Look.” His eyes pleaded with her. “I—I don’t know what to say. I keep messing this up. But, god, I like you. And I’m so
so
sorry.”

He pushed his long hair back from his face.

“I hate to use the excuse that I can’t help it,” he said, “but—
shit
—that sounds like such a
stupid
excuse.”

“Then please don’t give me a stupid excuse,” she pleaded. “Find a better one. Make me understand.”

He released a colossal exhale.

“Ish, I really have a problem.” He looked down. “I’m only mad because I’m jealous as hell of you. And that’s childish. Completely childish.” He looked back at her. “And all I can say is that I’m doing my best. I’m working on it. The anger. With all I’ve got. I won’t let it overcome me like it overcame my dad. I refuse to let that happen.”

He stood from the bed and retrieved the shorts he had been wearing before.

“I’m just so sorry I made you the victim of this torture. I really am, Ish. I am
so sorry
.”

He came back and sat on the bed beside her.

“So what do we do here?” she asked. “With this? With us?”

“Maggie’s helping me,” he said. “She’s mastered it—this aggression thing—so I figured I can too.”

“I can’t imagine Maggie aggressive.”

“Lena saved her. And now hopefully Maggie can save me. She’s my rock. My hope.”

He looked at her, uncomfortable with the admission.

“It’ll be harder for me because I’m a guy, but she’s coaching me. And that’s why I stick around here. That’s why I live down a dirt road with two old ladies.”

He rose from the bed and leaned against the sink, giving her space. His shirt was off and his arms flexed as he pressed his hands into the counter. He was backlit by the dim glow of a dock light coming through the tilted blinds. The gloaming softened her perspective. She couldn’t help but admire the muscular waves of his stomach. She knew it was crazy, but she was already forgiving his unforgivable behavior.

“I do realize this is not a turn on,” he said.

“Hector, I’m—” She hesitated before she admitted this to him.

“I’m really attracted to you. But what just happened—”

“Ish, you don’t have to explain. I can’t apologize enough.” He held his hands up. “No more fooling around. I promise. Not until I can get myself under control.” He shrugged. His broad shoulders glistened with a silky sweat.

“You just—you turn me on.” He looked at her. “In a good way,” he said quickly. “But the way you kiss me—it brings too much to the surface.”

She couldn’t believe she was falling for this. She couldn’t believe she was letting him back in.

“I could apologize all night,” he said.

“Don’t.”

“I’ll do it if that’s what it takes,” he said.

“Look, Hector—I’m not sure what to think, but—”

He gazed back at her, intently waiting.

She shook her head. “I certainly don’t plan to sit here all night with you begging for forgiveness.”

“More than you know, I’m grateful.” He paused and then added,

“I really like you, Ishmael.”

He retrieved her clothes from around the room and delivered them to her. While she dressed, he peeked out the blinds.

“Rain’s let up,” he said.

He turned to her.

“Would you care to join me on the dock?” He smiled. “Away from the bed. Go cool off in the night air.”

Once they were down on the dock, he used the dishrag he’d slung over his shoulder to dry two seats for them on the benches.

The sun had just set, and the sky was darkening from lavender to indigo. Stars began to appear. In the wake of the storm, the slightest of breezes kept the mosquitoes at bay.

She gazed at the scenery, enjoying the cool air on her face.

He slid his hand into hers. She’d wondered how these hands felt.

The answer was, perfect. His hand felt perfect in hers. Sturdy.

Manly. Strong.

Hector turned to her, looked her in the eyes.

“How about we take a swim?” he asked.

SHE TILTED HER HEAD BACK, pretending to look at the stars. Maggie’s warnings rushed into her bloodstream as if his question were a needle, injecting her.

“Come on,” he said. “You know I’m curious.”

The relaxed hold she had on the situation was gone. She sat up straighter.

“We just ate,” she said. “Isn’t there a rule or something?”

He was already standing. He stripped his clothes, offering one glimpse of his tanned back, the contrast highlighting his pale rear, and dove into the water. The sound of his splash was tempting.

“Come on!” he said, swatting water in her direction. “I know you’re not afraid.”

She stood, tasting the salty droplets. Of course she would get in the water. She adored being in the water these days. It was where she felt most comfortable, where her problems seemed to melt away. She stripped her clothes and dove in the creek to join him. When she surfaced, he was right beside her, treading water with his hands, looking her in the eye.

“Let’s see what you got,” he said, smiling.

They swam together through the dark water, stirring up neon twinkles of phosphorescence. They both paddled with their arms, legs dragging, heads above the water. She waited for the feeling, the wrapping sensation, but nothing happened.

“Give it some time,” he said, noticing her agitation.

“It’s never taken this long,” she said. “What’s wrong? What am I doing differently?”

“It’s probably just the wine. Keep swimming,” he said. The soft lapping of the water seemed to have calmed him.

She huffed but kept moving. They continued until the dock light was a small spot behind them.

She stopped. “This isn’t right. Something’s wrong. What the— it’s not happening!”

“Don’t get worked up.” He treaded water, his voice attempting a soothing tone. “I need you to stay calm. I can’t stay calm unless you stay calm.”

“How can I stay calm! This is—”

“I’m sure there’s a logical—” His voice stopped. “Ish, I think I’m feeling it.” He looked at her, his eyes exuberant.

She held her breath and felt for the sensation in her own body. Still nothing. How could he be feeling it and not her? Is this what Maggie had said could happen? She couldn’t change anymore but she could still be a catalyst for others. If this was the case, Ishmael anticipated heartbreak.

“What’s going on?” Her voice was strained. “What’d you do? How can you be changing and not me?”

He treaded water with his arms, lifting his legs to watch the progress.

“What—you’re accusing me? What do you think I did—stir some magic potion in your food?”

His eyes remained mesmerized by his lower half, and she followed his gaze. It was dark, but his legs seemed to be fully bound now, his toes just stretching into a fluke.

She was overwrought: in the moment, she would give anything to take that form again.

“Took it all for granted, didn’t you?” he asked.

She felt sick.

“I just don’t understand . . .”

Her voice trickled away. The world seemed to tighten around her; her heart thrashed in the confines of her chest. Was this really how it ended? Stuck on land, just like her grandmother? She wanted to scream.

Wait. That was it. She looked at Hector with a broad smile. “It’s happening.”

She dove and kicked beneath the surface, shot through the water and breached, soaring above the creek in the moonlight as she bent her body into a backbend and dove backwards into the creek. She spun and twirled, playful in the water that enveloped her and welcomed her home.

When she surfaced, Hector was nowhere in sight. She whirled in all directions, looking for him, and finally caught sight of his head above the water, making his way back to the dock. She swam easily to catch up with him. When she surfaced beside him, he kept his eyes forward, his jaw set.

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?” she asked. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

He sunk underwater, ignoring her. Even beneath the dark water, she could see his struggle to swim. He wasn’t using his tail, only his arms. He reached the dock and pulled himself onto the stern of the small boat. The skin of his lower half had transformed to a deep slate color. Gunmetal gray. Perfect with his skin, his dark hair. He was a masterpiece. She’d never been so magnetized.

“Incomplete,” he said, maneuvering himself into a seat on the boat. “And powerless.”

“But it happened.” She swam closer. “And you’re not—”

His feet were still mostly human. Stretched only a bit. His ten toes were flattened but remained unconnected nubs. His heels still intact.

“No, I’m not. Not fully.” He shook his head, shaking off the anger. “Hell, it’s a start. ‘Maybe’ is better than a definite ‘no.’”

“Hector, I’m so sorry.” She tried to look him in the eye. “Honestly, I am. I mean—back there, when I couldn’t change—I can imagine how frustrating this must be for you.”

He breathed heavily and forced a smile.

“I’m happy for you. At least I’m trying to be. You’re incredible in this form. You’re perfection like this,” he said, gesturing off down the creek. “What you just did out there—the tricks, the dives—this is where you should be, Ish.”

He swung his legs over the back of the boat, already starting to separate. Prying his legs apart, he sloughed off the excess thick skin. Pieces fell through the dock boards and into the creek. Since his fluke hadn’t fully formed, his feet returned quickly. He stood to retrieve his clothes from the pile and started to dress.

“You’re just giving up?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“Stay in the water. Give it more time—”

“I’m done for the night.” He began to ascend the ramp toward the dock house. “Keep swimming, though,” he called back. “Really. It’s fine.”

“It’s not
fine
, Hector. You’re pissed.”

He said nothing.

“Come
on
. Come back. Talk to me.”

She heard him getting a towel from the outside cabinet, saw him tussling his hair to dry it. Then the door closed behind him. Her mind flashed again for one brief moment to his anger before. She had truly been unnerved, but she had to follow him.

She lifted herself onto the edge of the dock and hoisted her tail out of the water.

It had just started drizzling again when she knocked on the door to the dock house. Hearing no response, she turned the doorknob. Hector was inside finishing the dishes. With the water running, maybe he hadn’t heard the knock: either that or he’d chosen to ignore her.

She came into the room and leaned against the counter, tipping her head so she could see his face. His eyes were focused on the sink. “Hey. Can we talk?” she asked.

He ran the water for a moment longer and then shut off the faucet, his eyes avoiding hers, shifting from the dishes to the window above the sink.

“Can I at least help you finish cleaning up?” she asked, gathering the final dishes from the table and placing them beside the sink.

He went back to his cleaning, but eventually he looked up, turning the faucet off again.

“Stay here with me tonight,” he said.

She couldn’t look up at him.

“I promise—we’ll just sleep,” he said. He tilted his head to catch her eyes and added, “I’ll turn on the AC.” He dried his hands on the dishrag and then handed the towel to her. “I just want you in bed with me. I want you all to myself for a night.”

She suppressed a smile and nodded.

“Comes with breakfast in the morning,” he said, to persuade her. “You’ve got to let me cook you breakfast. My specialty.”

He tenderly touched her face and kissed her on the cheek.