Seven Tears at High Tide

by C. B. Lee

  Kevin sets the surfboard down on the pier and breaks into a run; the memory comes back now as he races to the end. How could he have been so stupid as to ask only for one summer to be in love?

  The tears come easily, fast and hot, tumbling down his face. Kevin hadn’t believed it was possible; he made the wish on a whim, a memory of something his mother had once said—

  Mom.

  Maybe she knows something.

  Kevin races back home, heart nearly pounding out of his chest. He flings open the door, bursts into the living room and sends papers flying.

  “Kevin,” Rachel scolds, dropping the red pen in her mouth, grabbing for the papers.

  “Mom, I need your help.”

  She looks up, taking in his sweaty, disheveled appearance and panicked expression. The papers get pushed aside. “Are you okay? Come here, sit down. What’s wrong?”

  Kevin takes a deep breath, and somehow she knows without him saying anything.

  “Ah, I see. You’re usually out collecting rocks or surfing with Morgan this time of day. And now… you’re not. Everything okay?”

  Kevin shakes his head. “He’s gone, Mom. I don’t know—I think he was only here for the summer—”

  “That’s terrible. Want me to get us some ice cream? You look like you could use some.”

  “No—no ice cream. I want to—um, can you, like, distract me? With a story?”

  “A story?” She laughs. “Okay, what kind of story?”

  “You told me one once about, um, seven tears at high tide? And granting wishes?”

  “Thinking about wishing yourself a new boyfriend? Thought you were pretty dead set on this one.”

  “No, no, um, just felt like hearing the story.” Kevin sits down at the counter and props his chin on his hands.

  “Well,” Rachel says, taking off her glasses to regard him. She tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “I remem­ber my grandmother telling me this one, when I visited her one summer. She grew up on the Orkney Islands, and I think as a kid I always thought the place was bleak, but as a teenager I appreciated how beautiful and lovely the landscape was, the way the sea—”

  “Mom. The story.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right? I’m not sure this is the best dis­traction for you; these tales usually end quite sadly.”

  “Please.”

  “All right. How does it go… There was a lonely young woman whose friends had all married, and she was the only one of her age in the village who had not yet found a husband. There was no one she fancied at all, and she walked out to the shore at high tide, speaking of her sorrows, weeping into the sea. The seven tears that dropped into the water carried her yearning request to the heart of the sea, and then a seal came ashore and approached the woman, shed his skin and became a man.”

  His mom’s eyes have a faraway look, and Kevin knows she can be long-winded. “Yeah, and they get together and they’re happy for a while, and then he goes back. What happens after?”

  His mom blinks. “I think that’s how the story ends. After her husband finds the sealskin she was keeping hidden, he returns to the sea, and she mourns his loss. Why would you ask me to tell you this if you keep interrupting me?”

  “Sorry, I just—I forgot this part. She hides the pelt to keep him human, but are there any stories where, like, the human doesn’t do that?”

  “Not that I know of. Like I said, most of these end sadly. I can tell you another story, where my grandma was sure she had met a brownie—”

  “No, that’s not what I—” Kevin sighs. He’s not sure what he’s looking for in these stories.

  “I think there might be one story where a man had a selkie wife and every seven years she would come back to shore?”

  Seven years.

  Kevin steps away from the kitchen, shaking his head in dismay.

  “Okay, maybe not that. Hmm, there’s another one that also starts with seven tears at high tide—wait, that ends with them separated as well—wait, is that what you’re looking for, a story where the two don’t end up together, but it’s comforting instead of sad?”

  “What’s going on?” His dad enters the room, glancing between them.

  “Oh, Morgan moved away and Kevin wanted some stories to make him feel better—”

  “Oh, you always loved the stories of the Monkey King when you were a kid,” Mike offers. “I think we still have the VHS tapes. I can go set that up and we can watch those together if you like!”

  Kevin sighs. “Thanks, Dad, not really in the mood for adventure stories right now, though. I’m—I need to be alone now.”

  Is there a rule about making more than one Request? None of the stories had mentioned that—and if they never said he couldn’t. Maybe if he asked, Morgan could come back.

  Kevin dashes out of the house, running for the ocean.

  Kevin hopes fervently it will work once more. The tears drop into the ocean below, and he counts carefully to seven, then steps back.

  “I want Morgan back,” Kevin declares to the sea. “Please, if he wants to—if he wants to come back, I love him.”

  Another wave passes by, crashing past the wooden support beams. Kevin stares miserably at the water, watching the next wave roll on by, and then he decides to sit down, his body slumping to the wooden planks in defeat. Kevin gives up and lies back, looking dejectedly at the sky. It’s not even cloudy, but a bright cheery blue, another beautiful day that Kevin doesn’t get to share with the one person he wants to be with most.

  A minute goes by, and then another. Kevin doesn’t even know how long he’s been crying here, lying down at the end of the pier like an idiot.

  “That much is true,” a voice says.

  Kevin springs up and wipes his face, then turns to face the water. It’s her—Morgan’s mother. She’s treading water, her pelt draped regally across her shoulders.

  “Hello,” Kevin says, bowing his head. He tries to keep his lip from wobbling. “Um… you heard my, er…”

  “Darling, you poured so much emotion into that cry it’s still resonating across the Sea,” Linneth says.

  “I love Morgan.” Kevin holds onto the pier’s railing for support. He feels like an idiot; all those times Morgan told him how he felt, and he never said it back. Well, once, but Morgan deserved more, to hear it every day—

  “I know you do.” The melodic lilt of her voice rises and falls in the same cadences as Morgan’s, and Kevin is struck by a sudden pang of longing. “You asked the Sea for one summer, and you’ve had your summer to be in love.”

  “I didn’t know any of this was real then! Magic, shape-shifting seals, none of it!”

  Linneth hums, narrowing her eyes at Kevin. “You love my son. If he were human, you would love him still?”

  “Of course.”

  “He was happier with you than I’ve ever seen him. Every night he would tell all his brothers and sisters stories of Above and his adventures with you.”

  Kevin’s grip on the wooden railing tightens. Where is she going with this?

  “Do you remember the beach where you met our family?”

  Kevin nods.

  “We don’t plan to leave for the long swim south until tomorrow. You should come by. Approach quietly on foot. Around noontime today, some of us may shed our skins to walk in the sun on two legs. I have the feeling Morgan will want to spend time in his human form while he can.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Take his pelt with you, and Morgan will be bound to you as a human as long as you keep it safe and hidden from him.”

  “I can’t just—steal him!”

  “Others have been stolen before,” Linneth says softly. “By humans less honorable than you. The two of you would be happy, I think.”

  And with that she slips away into the waves, and in the blink of an ey
e is a sleek seal, swimming away.

  * * *

  Kevin can’t believe he’s here, that he borrowed the car to find a hidden beach he’s seen only once before. He can’t look it up on a map, but relies on memory and some quick calculation of how fast Morgan swam that day and how much time passed on the journey from the rookery to the beach.

  Parking the car off the highway, Kevin slips through chaparral, hikes slowly down to the beach, hides in the shrubbery as he gets closer to the sand. He can see the selkies beached in the sun and lazing about in the shallow water. A few are in human form, most of them children: chubby toddlers running around on their little legs, giggling and laughing and falling over in the sand.

  Kevin takes in a deep breath when he sees Morgan sitting on a rock, staring off into the distance.

  The pelts are all lying on the rocks. Even if the rest weren’t too small, Kevin would still be able to pick out Morgan’s pelt by the distinct gray-spotted pattern.

  He creeps up to the pelts unnoticed and brushes his fingers along the edge of Morgan’s pelt. Kevin looks up at Morgan’s figure. Even though Morgan has a sad expression, Kevin’s heart swells with affection. In an instant, he knows: I can’t do this.

  Kevin is ashamed of himself for even considering stealing Morgan’s pelt. He made a promise that he would never try to keep Morgan for himself; he is going to keep it. He steps away from the pelts, slinks back into the shrubs and pauses to watch Morgan. If this is the last time he sees him, he wants to savor it, to memorize the angles of his profile, the curve of his jaw, the freckles on his back.

  Kevin remembers what Morgan once said about love, about wanting that person to be happy. He knows forcing him to come back wouldn’t be right. Whatever happens now, even if the rules of the Sea say they can never meet again and it was only for this one summer, Kevin knows he’s still grateful to have known Morgan.

  “Goodbye,” Kevin says quietly from his hiding place.

  The drive back home is bittersweet.

  Eighteen.

  It’s late in the afternoon, and Naida and the day’s hunting party have returned with the catch. But instead of joining the others in feasting on the fish, Linneth pulls Morgan aside.

  “I know, I’m not going to go ashore,” Morgan says flatly. “I will honor the terms of the Request and try not to see him again.”

  “I was wrong. If you want to see him, you should go see him to your heart’s content and memorize what he looks like, before you forget. Today, of all days, I should not have kept you away from what you desire. If it is what you want—you should go see him. It is not against the rules so long as he doesn’t see you.”

  Morgan gasps, hardly believing her change in mood. “What?”

  “You have a few hours before you will need to return. Go on.”

  Morgan nuzzles against her quickly, and she harumphs fondly, pushing him toward the tide.

  Morgan swims quickly, heart racing at the possibility of seeing Kevin again. The hour’s travel passes quickly, and he soon arrives at the cove. He considers transforming and walking ashore, but that increases the chance of Kevin seeing him. Morgan doesn’t want to incur the wrath of the Sea; this little town doesn’t deserve a terrible storm because Morgan couldn’t stay away.

  Morgan thinks about where Kevin might be, and swims toward the pier where he met Kevin.

  Sure enough, Kevin is sitting at the edge, watching the horizon with a melancholy look on his face. Morgan sighs happily, watching from the tide, but then realizes he’ll be visible if Kevin is looking out to sea.

  He isn’t alone; a few fishermen stand off to the other side with their lines, waiting for a bite. Morgan dives and swims toward the pier, intending to watch Kevin from behind, and he swims past the fishing lines, taking care to avoid the hooks. But there are neither hooks nor bait at the end of these lines, only small weights to keep them in the water.

  Something cold uncoils in Morgan’s gut, and he resurfaces just in time to see the two fishermen leave their poles unattended and walk toward Kevin, then grab him roughly by the shoulders.

  Morgan wants to transform, to scream in alarm, but that would mean revealing his presence to Kevin—but surely his safety is more important—

  One of the men presses a small cloth to Kevin’s mouth, and he struggles against their hold for a minute. Then Kevin’s eyes close and he slumps forward.

  Nineteen.

  Kevin wakes with a pounding headache. He opens his eyes, trying to make sense of what is happening, but all he can see in front of him is the rough fabric of a canvas bag. Diffuse light filters through it, and Kevin can make out the logo from the local supermarket emblazoned on the white fabric.

  He’s sitting on a chair with his arms and legs bound tightly with rope. Kevin can hear the sound of waves in the distance, and people talking in agitated voices. He tries to keep calm, but every nerve in his body is electric with fear.

  All he can remember is sitting on the pier, minding his own business, staring out at the horizon, watching the waves come in. And the fishermen. It isn’t unusual for people to come to the pier to cast a line, and he nodded a greeting when they set up shortly after he arrived. Then he forgot about them, except for noting that one of them seemed familiar, maybe a tourist he’d seen earlier in the summer.

  Kevin has no idea how long he was lost in his thoughts, watching the ocean. When he heard the footsteps behind him he turned to see what the men wanted, figured they might need an extra hand carrying a big fish, but then they were grabbing him by the arm and holding something over his mouth, and now Kevin is here.

  He runs through everything he knows about kidnappings, thinks about what they might want from him, and tries to stay calm. He doesn’t appear to be hurt, only immobilized. And while he has no idea how long he’s been unconscious or where they’ve taken him, he can reason from what he does know.

  The grocery bag is from Piedras Blancas. It’s possible they’re still close to town. They’re near the shore, and Kevin can hear the sound of engines, maybe boats. Are they near the docks?

  He tests the restraints, shifting and struggling, but they’re knotted too tight.

  “Boy’s awake!” a rough male voice calls out.

  Kevin blinks when the bag is removed from his head, and he tries to get a sense of his surroundings. They’re in a boathouse. He can smell salt in the air, and that window looks out to the ocean and the lighthouse. His chair is right up against the center opening, where a small fishing boat is docked, bobbing in the current. Water occasionally splashes onto the wooden plank floor.

  He sees three people: a man with too much gel in his slicked-back red hair, who holds the bag and stares at Kevin with an awed expression; an older man with a fierce scowl and crossed arms; and a young black woman, probably Sally’s age, who is holding a notebook.

  “We’ve got you,” Hair Gel says, grinning at Kevin.

  “Please,” Kevin says, remembering a documentary about appeal­ing to your captor’s humanity. “I have parents and a sister, and friends… They’ll miss me… Please let me call my parents. We have some money, please—”

  “We’re not interested in money.” The older man in the corner steps forward, radiating confidence. Kevin straightens up, appre­hensive. “We want to know where the rest of the selkies are.”

  Kevin knows where he’s seen this man before, now: at the cafe, with these people, poring over maps. He thought they were hikers, and now, seeing the maps taped to the wall with charts of ocean currents, the photos of seals and drawings of potential transformations, a detailed drawing of a pelt, Kevin realizes these must be the people Morgan was talking about. Hunters.

  Kevin’s heart drops to his stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  On a far table he can see a number of metal instruments: medical instruments, scalpels and other things he has no name for, with sharp edges gl
inting in the low light. They must see the terror in his eyes, because the woman covers the table with a swath of fabric, glaring at the older man.

  “I told you having those out would be overkill, Nathaniel,” she says, shaking her head. “I thought you said this would be a quick questioning, not a torture session. He’s just a kid.”

  “I’m sixteen,” Kevin says, hoping to look as pathetic and non-threatening as possible.

  “Won’t the others come after him, if we’ve got him?” Hair Gel says.

  “They’re not like that; they’d cut their losses and save the rest of the herd,” the old guy—Nathaniel—says, eyeing Kevin with interest.

  They think I’m a selkie.

  Nathaniel walks forward, and Kevin notices a gun on his hip. There’s no doubt that he’s the most dangerous of the group. Would they let him go let him go if he told them he’s human? What if he’s useless? How many action movies has he seen where they kill the witnesses to destroy evidence and tie up loose ends? Already Kevin has seen their faces, and knows what their hideout looks like.

  They’re probably planning to kill him anyway. Or dissect him, or worse.

  The best he can do is not give up any information. He can’t betray Morgan and Morgan’s family.

  “All right, selkie, where’s the beach? I know it’s around here somewhere, and I’m pretty sure none of you are staying at the rookery. It’s funny, we’ve been here for awhile and we almost decided to move on, but then we saw you on the beach with that pelt and, well—” Nathaniel smiles, but the mirth doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It makes him seem menacing, hungry.

  “Where is the rest of the herd?” he asks again, pushing Hair Gel out of the way, leaning into Kevin’s space.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kevin spits at the man. Kevin understands science, understands being passionate about something and wanting to learn all about it, but to hurt another person deliberately—that’s just cruel.