Fates: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Seirra

It had started raining.

I stared out the shop’s window as droplets decorated the glass and blurred the faces of the people who hurried to get out of the downpour. A frown crossed my face as I raised my chin to look up at the sky. The heavens showed no sign of giving the sun a chance to shine the last of its rays. Dark, enormous clouds covered what was supposedly a vast expanse of the blue sky.

I sighed.

The rains had come unannounced—the only hint being the darkness that fell too early in the afternoon. And then lightning sliced through the clouds, immediately followed by a loud boom of thunder that caused several squeals of surprise from the people in the streets. I had been lucky to be indoors when the first of millions of heavy raindrops suddenly (and rather furiously) began to drown Grasveld Aisles.

The beach was my original destination after bringing Hannah home but for some reason, I roamed through the sidewalks aimlessly until some purpose had clicked in my mind. Slowly, I found myself seeking the place that held so much of my memories with Margaret. Thus, I had pulled the door of Books and Covers and trembled inwardly when I heard the chimes together with Amanda’s monotonous, “Good afternoon!”

She had gaped a few seconds before blinking rapidly. I smiled, aware that I always had that effect on women of every age. Most of them, I eventually found out, had been rather captivated by my eyes.

It had been the same with Margaret.

Although on both of our ‘first’ meetings, I knew that I had also rendered her thoughts and feelings into chaos. I remembered the way her eyes widened with confusion and the way she held her breath in wonder.

Truth be told, she had done the same to me.

I had wandered towards the shelf farthest from Amanda’s post and since then, had browsed through the volumes as if reading each title’s synopsis was a vital part of my mission in the bookstore. Amanda didn’t seem to mind and when it started raining, it became obvious that she had already forgotten that I was still there.

The chimes rang for the fifth time since I arrived an hour ago; startling me into dropping the book I was holding. My years of warrior training had sharpened my reflexes and I caught it before it touched the floor. I realized that even though I had been looking out the window, my mind had been somewhere else. I turned towards the person who just arrived but it was her voice that I heard first.

And it sent my thoughts into pandemonium.

“Yes, yes, Robert. I got home safely. Drenched but safe.” She paused to listen to the person on the other end of the line. “I know it’s half-stupid but I needed to talk to Seirra. I know that he knows something. I need him.” There was a hint of worry in her voice but her last sentence had startled even her.

She said she needed me and it was enough to make me heady. I smiled to myself and continued to listen.

“I gave up after waiting for him for an hour. He didn’t appear at the beach, God knows why. And then it rained. I already told you what happened after.”

Margaret had stopped by the door and was nodding as if the conversation had become exasperating. Trying to keep the annoyance from her voice, she went on to assure him that nothing was wrong.

“Goodness, Rob. It was just a little rain. Stop worrying. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” And then she hung up.

I knew that there was no way that I could let her believe that I had come here to see her (she might think that I was stalking her) and so I immediately came up with a plan. I walked towards Amanda, careful not to look in Margaret’s direction, pretending to be the customer that I should be.

The older woman seemed surprised to see me and her dark eyebrows shot up. “I thought you had left without finding what you were looking for,” she said with a friendly smile.

I grinned and scratched my head in a silly attempt to look guilty. “Took me quite some time but here you go.” I handed her the book I was holding—the title completely forgotten.

“Hmm...The Scarlet Letter, huh,” she muttered as she raised an eyebrow and her lips thinning in what seemed like disbelief.

I could not, in any way, remember what it was about even though I was sure that I had read the book’s description not less than five minutes ago. I shrugged. “It seems intriguing.”

“Yeah. With adultery and sin as themes, I’m sure it should be,” Margaret said from behind me. There was a hint of laughter in her voice and considering my book choice, I immediately understood why.

I braced myself and then turned to face her. She was in the process of removing her jacket but froze the moment she realized who I was.

“You!” she exclaimed the moment she recovered from her initial surprise.

“Me,” I replied, laughter slowly forming in my eyes.

She looked panicked as she glanced around, obviously trying to figure out where I had come from and wondering whether I had heard her phone conversation or not. Considering the size of the bookstore and her not-so-modulated voice at that time, I was sure that she already knew that I have.

“I-I’m—”

“—wet.”

“Excuse me?” she gasped in horror.

Her mind was apparently traveling along dangerous roads and I had to stifle my laughter as I clarified, “Wet. You’re wet. Soaked. Drenched. I imagine you need to get out of those clothes if you don’t want to die of pneumonia.” And to confirm her suspicions, I went on to say, “I shall stay here and converse with Miss—”

I glanced back at Amanda and waited for her to supply her name.

“Amanda.”

“—Amanda, until you’re dry enough to talk.”

It took her a few seconds before she could reply in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “So you heard.”

“Obviously.” I grinned.

She took a deep, resigned breath then proceeded to take off her jacket completely. She hung the discarded clothing on one of her arms before she looked at me again.

“I’ll be back.”

And then she disappeared through the back door.

I let a few seconds pass before I turned towards Amanda’s questioning gaze. She seemed to have quite a number of queries in her mind and I decided not to make her wait any further. I raised an eyebrow to prompt her interrogation.

“Who, pray tell, are you?” I opened my mouth to answer but before any sound came out, she added, “And don’t tell me you’re ‘just’ a friend. She won’t freeze over like that if you’re not someone who,” she shook her head, “I don’t know, means something to her.”

She was several inches shorter than I was but she stared me down like a mother protecting her cub. Her hair was bound in a ponytail—not a single strand leaving the bundle. Her black turtle neck blouse ultimately completed her intimidating ensemble. I knew, however, that she was a sweet-tempered lady and so I gave her one of my most charming smiles.

I had to keep the pretense of not knowing anything about her or Marge, however, so I said, “I’m Seirra. A friend.” I grinned wide as I continued,“Are you her older sister?”

She was momentarily disoriented when she received the full blast of my attention but she answered haughtily, “No. But I’m the closest she’s got to one. So, who are you?”

I watched her cross her arms before I said solemnly, “I met her earlier today. I’m a friend of Grampa’s.”

My answer surprised her. “You knew Grampa? That’s odd.”

“Why?”

“Why is it odd?” she clarified.

I nodded.

“Well...You’re too young to be his friend, for one.” She began ticking her short list using her fingers. “Second, I don’t see any reason why you’d befriend an elderly person. Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with Grampa,” she hurried to add. “Just that you don’t strike me as someone with the same interests as him. And lastly, Marge and I knew most of his friends.” Her face turned sullen for a moment and then she went on, “They all came when he died a few weeks ago. You weren’t there.”

My expression had gone grave as well. “I was in Canada,” I told her, reinforcing the lie I told Margaret’s friends. “I arrived just this morning.”

“Oh. I see.” She didn’t question me any further as she had already lowered her guard the moment I said that I knew Grampa.

The back door opened again and we both turned to see Marge walking in. She had changed into faded jeans and a cream long-sleeved blouse with a square neckline.

“I would have chosen to chat in a nearby restaurant but the storm didn’t seem to want to let up,” she informed me in a soft, serious voice. Her face was slightly grim and nervous as if she feared the notion of having to talk with me.

The sky proved her right with the loud crashing sound of a thunder.

I nodded in agreement.

“So...if it’s alright, maybe we can talk inside.” She pointed to the back door with her thumb.

At first, I thought that the setup would break some issues of propriety especially considering my ‘stranger’ status but Amanda simply nodded.

“I shall be keeping my eyes and ears open,” the older lady called out before the door completely closed behind Marge and me.

Amanda wasn’t as protective as this when I had been on land before but I guessed Grampa’s death had strengthened her sisterly instincts towards Margaret. I smiled to myself as I followed Margaret up a single flight of stairs. If there was one human that I would miss once I got back to Aquania, it would be Amanda. She was usually a quiet person but she was also insightful and sharp. It probably came from all those days of manning a bookshop.

Margaret eventually led me to their living room, making me feel a sense of déjà vu. I almost expected to hear the news and to see Grampa looking intently at the screen while he sat in his chair. He wasn’t there, of course, and I shook my head a little in an attempt to get back to the present.

She made me seat on the sofa and I was surprised that she would bother to fetch me something to drink. I watched her as she went behind the counter that separated the joint dining room and kitchen from the living room. She opened the refrigerator and bent to take a pitcher of orange juice. She went on to fill both of our glasses and brought them to the table in front of me. And then she sat on the love seat perpendicular to the sofa. Suddenly, our closeness made me realize that the distance between us had become unbearable.

I immediately clamped down my thoughts and took a sip from my glass as I watched her do the same. Her hands clutched the glass elegantly while she stared at the window across from her.

When it seemed that ten seconds of silence was already too much for me, I tried to begin the conversation.

“Margaret—”

“I want—” she said at the same time.

Our eyes locked for a few heartbeats and then she blinked, releasing both of us from each other’s gazes.

“Perhaps we should start with your questions,” I told her just so that we could start the conversation and get over whatever awkwardness we were feeling.

She cleared her throat. “Well first, I want to know why you never mentioned to my friends that you know who I am.” She paused and then she added, “You’re the guy from this morning, aren’t you? And is Seirra really your name?”

I gave her a nod and then proceeded to answer her questions. “To be precise, my name’s Seirra Celari. And yes, I’m the guy from this morning. I didn’t say anything to keep your friends from asking more questions.”

She seemed to understand the need to avoid an interrogation. Although, I was sure she had other reasons for wanting to keep our initial meeting a secret from her friends. There was no way for her to realize that the rationale behind my actions was to avoid any suspicions about my real identity.

“I guess that would be for the best. How did you become friends with Grampa? To be honest, I think it’s an unlikely friendship,” she asked after she nodded at my answer to her first question.

“Grampa and I came from the same hometown,” I replied. My heart started beating anxiously as the moment to reveal my identity slowly came upon us.

She looked surprised yet curious just the same. “I didn’t know Grampa was Italian. Or were you talking about Canada?”

“I was talking about where we were both born in,” I informed her, aware that it was quite a mysterious and almost stupid answer.

She scoffed at me. “Of course. That’s why it’s called a ‘hometown’, right?”

I smiled at her and when I didn’t say anything more, she asked, “So where exactly is this hometown?”

She was warming up to the conversation and it made me dread the idea of telling her who I really was.

“Aquania.”

One of her eyebrows lifted and her head tilted to the side. “I’ve never heard of that place.” She took a breath and was about to ask another question but I beat her to it.

“I heard you tell Robert that you needed me. That I know something.” I placed the same kind of emphasis to ‘know’, mirroring her earlier words. “What exactly are you talking about? Why is it so important that you let yourself get soaked in the rain? And what does Robert have to do with any of this?”

Margaret looked intently at me for about five seconds, obviously trying to read the expression on my face. I wondered what she actually saw.

She took a deep breath then she focused on the windows again. “I have a case of amnesia—or memory gap, whatever you want to call it,” she finally said. “Ever since the day before Grampa died, I keep recalling the memory of a guy—and occasionally a girl—but nobody seemed to have any idea who they are. I keep seeing them in my dreams, especially the guy. Robert saw one of my drawings of them and so I told him about it. When you appeared at the restaurant this afternoon, I received the shock of my life.”

And then she fixed her gaze on me.

“Because Seirra, you look exactly like the man in my dreams. The only difference is he’s got a tail.”

I already knew everything she had just told me but it still took me a few seconds to come up with a way to reveal myself to her.

“It wasn’t much of a difference, Marge,” I began carefully. “The thing is...I am a merman.”