Seven Tears at High Tide (13 page)

Thirteen.

Kevin is excited
about Morgan's birthday. He doesn't want to make the same mistake he did when he bought him clothes at the mall. Spending time giving Morgan the best possible experiences of the human world will be far more valuable to him. The county fair will be great—lots of people to watch. Morgan will like that. Plus, all the fried foods he can eat, the games, the rides.

Kevin can't believe he'd forgotten about the fair. The flyer came in the mail a few weeks ago and it completely slipped his mind until Morgan told him about his birthday.

Morgan hasn't shown up this morning. That's okay. Sometimes he spends time with his family doing seal things. Kevin grins as he jogs to the beach.
My boyfriend is magical
. He says it to himself again, pleased that he's entrusted with such a huge supernatural secret. Kevin's been doing a pretty good job of keeping that secret so far. His parents are both incredibly nosy—well-intentioned, but nosy. They've dropped hints about wanting to meet Morgan's parents, asked what they do for a living, where they're staying.

Kevin doesn't enjoy lying to his parents, but he under­stands the need for secrecy, so he has done his best to give evasive answers as close to the truth as possible, letting them draw their own conclusions. He said that Morgan's family was “at sea,” which his dad took to mean they owned a boat. Kevin tried to come up with an explanation for why they weren't at the docks, but didn't get further than saying that they were avid fishers, and his dad just nodded, guessing that they were currently anchored somewhere north of town. Kevin might have to ask Morgan if it's okay to tell them the truth, but right now Kevin's more interested in daydreaming about taking Morgan on the Ferris wheel.

Kevin jogs down the beach, watching the waves roll in. He catches his breath at the lifeguard tower, intending to say hello to Sally, but she isn't alone.

Three other people sit in the sand in front of the tower, listening intently as Sally reads from her clipboard.

“Kevin! Hey! Trying out for junior lifeguards?”

“Uh, just going for a jog.” Kevin nods at the others, recognizing the tall black girl and the shaggy-haired blond guy next to her, but not the third person. Michelle and Connor were in his English class last year. He might have seen the other guy with the soccer team. Kevin's seen all of them around town before, but he's never tried to socialize with any of them.

“You totally should. There's enough money in the year's fund­ing to train and hire four people. Plus I've seen you swim­ming and bodysurfing all summer; you could totally do it.” Sally bumps Kevin with her hip, causing him to stumble a little.

The guy on the end laughs. “Hey, I'm Patrick. Totally bump her back, dude. She did it to all of us.”

Kevin hesitantly bumps his hip back against Sally, and she snorts a little at his daintiness, but the three sitting on the ground cheer politely. “I guess having a job would be nice,” Kevin says.

“Fantastic,” Sally says. “Have a seat.”

Two hours later,
Kevin is completing his first group interview session, scheduling a CPR class and has a bunch of new employment forms to take home to puzzle over.

“Hey, you live on my street, right?” Michelle asks, with her flyaway corkscrew curls bouncing as they start walking toward town.

“Yeah.” Kevin has seen Michelle on his bus, but he's never talked to her before.

“We can totally walk back together. Connor rode his bike and won't let anyone sit on the handlebars because he's a safety nerd—”

“Hey!” Connor snaps on his helmet. He makes a rude gesture toward Michelle, who turns around and mirrors it, laughing.

“You're taking AP history this year, right? We should totally be study buddies. I hear Miss Tran does pop quizzes every week. We can totally go over stuff on the bus ride to school,” Michelle says.

“Yeah, sure,” Kevin says.

Connor whizzes by on his bike, waving and hollering, and Kevin feels out of the loop when Michelle and Patrick shout back at him. The feeling is fleeting, though, because they're soon talking about studying for the SAT and the Marvel movie that's coming out next year. Michelle is a DC fan, so this sparks what seems to be an old argument between her and Patrick as Kevin watches, amused, not wanting to get between them.

“You're pretty cool, Kevin,” Patrick says. “Just goes to show certain people at school don't know what awesomeness they're missing out on.”

Kevin makes a face. “Let me guess. You've heard what Skylar's been saying?”

Patrick nods. “Yeah, I mean I left the soccer team because he was being such an idiot about me being in the changing room. Not that I would ever look at his pasty ass.”

Kevin knits his eyebrows together in confusion. “Wait, you're—”

“Gay, yeah,” Patrick says. “I didn't come out until after you did, though. Didn't see what the big deal was about telling people, but I used to be friends with the dude, and I wondered if he'd do me the same as he did to you. So, yeah. I think he would have, if my mom wasn't the principal, but I think I got the least of it. Just some snide remarks from him. And since he was team captain, the other guys just kind of followed suit.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I'm not. Michelle convinced me to join the swim team, and I'm having way more fun there. Plus we actually win our competitions, unlike the soccer team.”

“Whoa,” Michelle says, halting them in the middle of the street. “Who is that? I thought I knew all the cute guys who live in this town.”

Patrick turns and follows her gaze, then lets out a low whistle.

Kevin spots Morgan casually walking on the other side of the street, apparently on his way to Kevin's house. He's wearing only his board shorts as usual; the line of his bare back is visible as he walks. Then he turns, noticing them. Morgan's face breaks out into a smile when he sees Kevin, and he waves at them.

“You know him?” Patrick asks.

Kevin grins. “Yeah, that's Morgan, my boyfriend.”

“Your friends seemed
very nice,” Morgan says when Kevin finally manages to pull him away. Morgan walked up to them, and then Kevin introduced them, and then Michelle and Patrick had more questions than Kevin was sure Morgan was comfortable with: where he went to school and where he lived. They also seemed fascinated when Morgan talked about swimming, though, so luckily the conversation went in that direction. “Michelle remarked that she wished she had the courage to walk around in her swimsuit like I am. I get the feeling it was meant to be flattering, but somehow also not.”

Morgan pokes his stomach, staring at himself, and Kevin sighs. “Hey, some people are just self-conscious about their bodies. Don't take it the wrong way. I think Michelle was impressed you're so confident, and you're not like… Mr. Six Pack or anything.”

Morgan's eyebrows knit together. “I don't know who that is.”

Kevin considers explaining, but Morgan is probably better off without being saddled with the insecurities that might come from the explanation. “Don't worry about it; you're the hottest selkie I know,” he says, leaning in for a kiss. “And they both thought you were great, so it's all fine.” He takes Morgan's hand, squeezes it tightly and walks with him toward his home. In the distance, Michelle and Patrick wave goodbye.

“I'm glad to see you making friends,” Morgan says. “I feel a lot better, knowing you won't be lonely.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I always kept to myself at school. I figured having one friend was enough, but I guess he wasn't really a friend. Or anything else, really.”

They walk past Miles' house, and Kevin can see him in the upstairs window, glancing out to the street. Kevin thought seeing him would be weird, or that he'd feel vindicated somehow, or he'd want to rub it into Miles' face that he's moved on. Kevin hasn't felt any such thing, and now doesn't have the urge to do anything other than keep walking to his door with Morgan.

They go to Kevin's bedroom. Morgan usually sprawls out com­fortably on the bed, but today he's standing by the wall.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—I wanted to tell you something.”

“Is everything all right?” Kevin has a sudden, terrible thought. “Your family's okay? Those hunters didn't figure out where your beach was, did they?”

“No, nothing like that, I…”

Kevin pats the bed next to him, and Morgan sits down. He takes a deep breath; worry is written all over his face. Kevin slings his arm around his shoulder, pats him and strokes his thumb over Morgan's shoulder in a repeated, comforting motion.

Morgan looks up and gives him a small smile. “I—um, I found out my father lives in Piedras Blancas.”

“What? Really?” Kevin is surprised, but calms himself down, looking to Morgan for an appropriate guideline on how to react. Morgan doesn't seem excited about it, or angry, and Kevin's not quite sure what to do. Should he be comforting? Encouraging? Go for a hug?

Morgan's jaw is set. “My mother wanted to give me the option of meeting him. If I wanted to. That's why we came here this summer.”

“And do you want to?”

Morgan looks ahead. “I should. I really want to ask him a few things.”

“Do you know who he is? Need help finding him?”

“His name is Richard, and he was a fisherman. That's all I know. I suppose I could ask my mother to track him down, but I don't want her to know I went to see him before…”

“Before what?”

Morgan shakes his head. “It's not important.”

“Okay, well, if you want to talk to him, he should be pretty easy to find. I'm sure someone will know who he is; it's a small town. And you say he's probably lived here the entire time? Since before you were born?” Morgan nods, so Kevin stands up. “All right, I'm gonna ask my parents later, if that's cool. They can definitely help you out.”

Kevin's parents are still at work, so Kevin opts for putting on a movie instead of studying. Morgan picks
The Little Mermaid
, which makes Kevin laugh, but they watch the Disney movie any­way. It's a cute movie. Kevin hasn't seen it in a long time, but he remembers all the songs.

As usual, watching Morgan enjoy the movie is the best part. He laughs at the portrayal of mermaids, shakes his head disparagingly when the movie shows the glorious city of Atlantis and his eyes widen when Ariel makes her deal. During Ariel's foray into the human world, though, instead of bombarding Kevin with questions, Morgan falls quiet.

When the credits roll, Kevin looks at Morgan's pensive face and brushes up against his shoulder hesitantly. “Did you like the movie?”

“I don't know.” Morgan grips the sheets on Kevin's bed, with his hands tight in small, frustrated fists. “I don't think that situation would have happened in the first place. If Ariel had wanted to explore the human world, she wouldn't have been shamed for it. At least not if she were a selkie. It might be different for merrows. I only know of them from stories, and they don't care for humans much at all.”

Kevin thinks about the story Morgan told him earlier in the summer, about the wounded merrow singing desolately for her lover, dying in vain as he drowned. “I can imagine why,” Kevin says dryly. “This particular story is made up, though, for fun. You know, mostly for kids to see a happy ending and true love conquer all, and all that.”

“It doesn't always.”

Kevin stares. He's never seen Morgan get upset, not since his pelt went missing, and it's a weird thing to be upset about, a lighthearted kid's movie.

“Hey, hey,” Kevin says, pulling him in for a hug.

Morgan trembles slightly, but he holds on tight. Kevin feels hot, wet tears drop onto his back. “Do you want to talk about it? Is it the merrows? It's sad because what happened to them in real life is a tragedy, and the story makes you feel…”

Morgan shakes his head, and Kevin holds him, feeling the beat of his heart against his chest, waiting for Morgan to open up.

“I just think it's not fair,” Morgan says finally. “I—people should get happy endings.”

“Come on. You're thinking about that sad story you told me, aren't you? Look, there's nothing we can personally do to change any of that. But what we can do is focus on ourselves. Hey, I can tell you about my surprise.”

“Surprise?” Morgan pulls back to look at Kevin.

“Yeah, for your birthday. You're turning seventeen the day after tomorrow! I have something totally awesome that you're gonna love. I'm gonna take the whole day and we're gonna drive down to SLO and I'm gonna take you to the county fair. It's a gathering of people, just to have fun! There will be rides and games and so many fried foods. You're gonna love it!”

Morgan nods at him; the corner of his lip quirks up a little, even though sadness remains in his eyes. He hugs Kevin again, presses his face into Kevin's neck, breathes deeply. “Thank you, Kevin. It's really thoughtful of you to think of something I'd like. It sounds like a lovely way to end the summer. I'm…I'm looking forward to it.”

Kevin strokes Morgan's back, glad that Morgan is excited about the fair, and starts talking about cotton candy and how amazing it is, in hope of drawing him out of the mood even further. Morgan nods and listens, holding on tight to Kevin. Cuddling isn't new for them, but this time Morgan doesn't want to let go. Kevin doesn't understand, but he's happy to stay in the embrace until Morgan lets go.

Fourteen.

Morgan has three
days left to decide his future, and he is no closer to knowing what to do. Kevin has been adorably concerned, though he assumes what's weighing on Morgan's mind is only the idea of meeting his father for the first time.

The next morning, Kevin has something to show him.

“It took me forever, but I got it. My parents didn't know anyone in town named Richard, so I had to resort to the Internet, and no number of keywords with Piedras Blancas or California and Richard or fishing turned up anything useful. But then Ann was going to the Cambria Public Library to return her books, so I hitched a ride, and I talked to this nice lady about microfilm and newspapers, and I found this!”

Kevin brandishes a piece of paper at him so excitedly that Morgan can't tell what's on it until Kevin calms down and lets him look properly. It's a copy of an issue of the
Piedras Blancas Gazette,
from about twenty years ago. There's a photograph of a young man with broad shoulders and a happy smile, proudly holding a huge flounder aloft. “The Pride of Piedras Blancas,” Morgan reads slowly. “Cal Poly biology graduate student Richard S. Floyd set a state record yesterday, catching a twelve pound starry flounder during the Annual Western Outdoor Fishing Tournament.”

“I can't believe it's him,” Kevin says, shaking his head at the photo. “I always thought he was weird. I'm sorry if that's mean. I feel bad for thinking your dad was weird, now.”

“It's okay.”

Morgan studies the photo. Floyd's handsome, full of life and beaming at the camera. Morgan thinks about the time he and Kevin ran into him at the park. Time has not been kind to him.

“I asked my dad about Old Man Floyd, and he says he lives past the lighthouse. Do you want me to go with you?”

Morgan shakes his head. This is something he has to do on his own.

Kevin also thoughtfully
prepared him a map of where Floyd lives, on the outskirts of town. It isn't difficult to walk there. The warm sun beats down on Morgan's skin, and he hears the laughter of tourists making their way through town, snapping photos of the seals on the beach. Morgan passes them by, watching the families smile and walk, wondering if this is a small respite from their own busy lives and if any of them have ever had to make a choice like his.

“Hey, you live here, right?” a girl asks him. Her friends watch from a few steps away.

Morgan is caught up in the question, thinking about where he
lives
. It's a human concept, one he's always thought strange: home as a concrete place. He's sure if he'd ever been asked this before, his answer would have been,
No, I live in the Sea,
but that's not completely right. Home is the waves, his family swimming beside him as he hunts for fish, the sparkling water and the hidden depths, forests of kelp swaying gently in the current. But home is also Kevin's smile, the way he cuddles up next to him in Kevin's bed, watching movies; it's the colorful rocks on the trail in the state park, the dazzling cliffs and the beaches.

“Do you know a good place to eat?” she presses on, jolting Morgan out of his thoughts.

“Yes.” Morgan gives her directions to the cafe he and Kevin once visited, so long ago. “They have fish and chips, and sandwiches too. The French fries are good.”

“Thank you!”

Morgan can hear her talk to her friends as he continues to walk and wistfully imagines their lives for today: spending time together; enjoying the sights; going out to eat. Here he is, about to talk with a father he's never met in hopes of getting insight into a decision that will change the rest of his life. The sunny day and jovial tourists do little to change Morgan's dark mood.

When he reaches the outskirts of town, he follows an unkempt trail to a dilapidated house. He supposes it could have been a beautiful little cottage overlooking the sea, with a lovely view of the Moon's Eye, or the lighthouse, as Kevin calls it. The house looks terribly lonely, with faded blue paint peeling off the shutters and long-dead roses still standing by the path. If Morgan didn't know someone lived here, he would guess it was abandoned.

Morgan sighs, pockets the map and raises his hand to knock.

The door swings open before his fist meets the surface, and a grizzled man with a dark beard coarse with gray hairs peers out at Morgan.

“I don't want to buy anything,” he says, scowling.

“That's not why I'm here. You are Richard S. Floyd?”

“Yes.” Floyd narrows his eyes. “What's this about?”

“I am your son,” Morgan says, with more calm than he knew he had. “May I come in?”

“You look like
her, you know.” Floyd gives Morgan a scrutinizing once over. “Can you—are you like her? Can you do the thing?” He waves his hand in a vague gesture.

“I am a shape-shifter, yes, if that's what you're asking,” Morgan says flatly. He's beginning to wonder if this was a mistake, coming here. Floyd takes the news readily, needing no more than Morgan's brief explanation. The description of Linneth and their lives is enough. It seems Floyd is hungry for someone, anyone, from that world to confirm what he has believed all along.

Floyd's house is small and cramped, filled with knickknacks, and smells strongly of fish. Yellowing photographs cut from newspapers hang on the wall, picturing Floyd in his youth, handsome and striking, standing proudly and holding aloft various large fish.

“Why are you here? Did Linneth send you?”

“I just found out. And, no. She doesn't know I'm here.”

“She's… here, then? Close by?” The question lingers in his eyes, which sparkle with desperate hope.

“I don't know if she wants to see you or not. We've never sum­mered in this area.”

It's a half-truth, but Floyd doesn't need to know that. He seems too keen to know his mother's whereabouts, and if there's anything Morgan has learned from all the movies he's watched with Kevin, it's that having a bargaining chip can be helpful. His mother said she would want to talk to him, if Morgan chose to be human, but giving Floyd this information now might change his mood and make him utterly unhelpful. From what Morgan remembers of their one encounter on the beach, he is impulsive, quick to anger, and Morgan doesn't want to leave here without answers.

“Look, kid—”

“My name is Morgan.”

Floyd jerks forward; his hand reaches out as if he wants to touch Morgan's face, to see if he's real.

“That was my father's name. I didn't know if she—” He laughs to himself, but it's a dry, mirthless, hollow thing. “For years after, I wondered if that time with her was a dream. We were happy. And then one day she was gone, just like that. I always wondered what had happened, if she had the baby, if the two of you were out there somewhere. Or if something worse…”

Floyd hangs his head in shame. He pulls out a photo from a drawer in the rickety desk in the corner: a cracked thing, well-handled over the years, stained, probably by tears. In the photo a younger Floyd stands with his arm around Linneth, grin­ning at the camera. Linneth is blurry, caught in the middle of a moment, head tilted back in laughter, looking not at the camera but at Floyd. Morgan looks at the photo and shakes his head when Floyd offers it to him, and Floyd returns it to its spot in the drawer.

This bitter old man, hands dirty with grease, living in this cluttered hovel, is not the father Morgan imagined. He thought he was a handsome, dashing man who stole his mother's heart, convinced her to stay with him and then selfishly tried to keep her for himself. Morgan thought he would be scary, maybe, like a villain out of an old story. That man
was
in a few of their family's stories—none of the popular ones, since he always made his mother sad, but Morgan remembers his aunt singing one in particular, painting with her words a picture of a terrifying, selfish man, cruel and larger than life.

This man just seems sad. Morgan almost feels sorry for him.

“You tried to keep her,” Morgan accuses, and Floyd nods.

“I loved her. I knew she was pregnant when she left, I just—I didn't know if you would turn out like me, or like her, or some combination of both. I knew all the stories, and I just wanted us to be happy. Like a family. I would have tried my best, you know. To be a good father to you.”

Floyd reaches for Morgan again, and Morgan lets him hesitantly pat him on the shoulder.

“It was selfish, what you did. You hid her sealskin so she couldn't return to her true form. After that, how could she trust you?”

Floyd's eyes brim with tears. “I only wanted her to stay.”

“You should have asked,” Morgan replies coldly. “But we don't have time to reminisce about the things you should or shouldn't have done. I need your help.”

“I don't have much money. You're welcome to whatever I have. I don't know what use any of it would be to you, under the Sea.”

It's a small gesture, and Morgan wants to be grateful, but the desperate situation he's in, not knowing what to do, fills him with so much frustration and anger that he stands up, fists clenching. He wants to lash out, to take every single knickknack in the house, throw them on the ground and break every last one of them into little pieces, then seize the trophies and photographs and throw them out the window.

But that won't solve anything.

Floyd watches him, and if he notices the tears falling from Morgan's eyes, he doesn't say anything.

“It's not fair,” Morgan says finally. “You—and my mother—you did this. And I can't, I can't be the way I am anymore, it's this stupid magic—I just—”

The words tumble out of him, ugly, hot tears falling heavily down his front.

He tells Floyd everything.

At the end of the story, Floyd pulls from of his pocket a single white handkerchief, possibly the only clean thing in the house, and hands it to Morgan.

Morgan sniffles into it, wiping his tears.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Floyd says gently. “I didn't know about this rule. I don't think I would have pushed Lin for a baby if I'd known. Guess it makes sense now, why she didn't want to at first.”

Morgan stares at him, thinking of his mother's wistful staring out into the night sky, wanting a child for company, hoping for happiness in a difficult situation.

They sit in uncomfortable silence. Floyd doesn't offer any more comments, or advice, or even an opinion on which choice is better. Morgan waits, but Floyd just looks at him with a mixture of disbelief and regret.

Finally, Floyd speaks up, voice cracked from disuse. “Glad to see you're okay, been okay this summer, knowing what you are. Ain't exactly safe for your kind right now hereabouts.”

“What, the hunters? We've known about them for ages. I'm the only one allowed on land for my Request; everyone else is to stay in the Sea.”

Floyd nods. “They're not all a bad bunch, but there is one guy, Nathaniel, who's always been set on catching one of you. He even tried to get me to come with, for old times' sake.”

“You—you knew, wait—you were one of
them?
You hunt us and still—”

Floyd blinks at him. “It wasn't like that. There are some who are overzealous, yes, but I was a scientist. We all were. Most of us were simply fascinated by the stories and the magic in the deep, or knew someone who knew someone who had a relative who had an encounter, and we would have been thrilled just to learn more. In more recent years, the pursuit has become less about knowledge and more of a
hunt
, if you will. I stopped associating with those fools after I met Lin. I realized they wanted more: to capture them, document proof and share it with the world. I dropped out of my graduate program, stopped traveling with them, settled down here and took up fishing.”

Floyd shuffles to a bookshelf in the corner and pulls out an old, leather-bound journal. He flips it open, showing Morgan detailed drawings, some familiar—selkies, merrows, a kraken—and some completely new to him, drawings of people who sprout fangs and fur. Morgan wonders if these are some of the beings Kevin talked about when he first told him he was a selkie.

“It doesn't matter. The herd is leaving soon anyway,” Morgan says. “The summer is pretty much over, and after I choose…”

Floyd pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. “If you decide to be human. It sounds rough, not remembering anything. I don't know how, but if I can help—in any way—I'll try.”

“I'd like that. Thank you.”

“The least I could do. Missed out on being a father to you all these years. I could at least start now. I messed up with your mother, I know. I was afraid she wouldn't want to stay. Who would give up the wonders of the Sea for me and my little house? But you're right. I should have asked.”

He sighs, looking at his feet, and then squares his shoulders, as if he wants to start being fatherly right now. “Been seeing a lot of you on land, though, this summer. You still with—”

“Kevin,” Morgan says, a knot of worry forming in his gut.

“You care about him.”

“I love him.”

“Would you stay on land? For him?”

Morgan knows it's not part of the Request, the question of him staying forever. It doesn't mean he hasn't thought about it, about what it would mean, getting to be with Kevin all the time instead of traveling south with the herd when the summer is over.

“I would,” Morgan says. “If he asked.”