Joseph Baneth Allen - Neptune's Tear

by Joseph Baneth Allen

  “I chose the top floor for my studio because of the expansive view of the ocean,” Helene said. “The natural lighting is great for mixed media painters like myself. Oh, and last, but most importantly, my boys were crummy pitchers. They could never throw their water balloons this high up. So I was pretty safe; unless I got caught in the crossfire when climbing up here.

  “It got so bad that I had to keep a spare set of clothes in the studio to change into once I’ve reached the top. Thankfully Seth and Eric pledged to different frats at NC State. I’d pity the house mother who would have to mediate between those two pranksters if they ever got it in their noggins to join the same fraternity.”

  Bob laughed along with Helene. He could easily imagine this petite middle-aged woman trying to dodge her boys’ intent to make mischief on each other. One of the reasons why she probably had kept her auburn hair styled in a fashionable pageboy cut was to prevent her sons from yanking on it.

  “So tell me, Bob, how do you like the view?” Helene asked once Bob had joined her on the third floor.

  “Simply this: WOW!” Bob replied. The expanse of ocean and sky from the window seemed to stretch out into infinity. Helene had been right during their interview when he had first arrived on her doorstep around ten o’clock in the morning. The view from her studio simply had to be seen to be believed.

  “Seems like I’m seeing clear across the Atlantic,” Bob said. He took several photos of the view.

  Several of her paintings hung on the wall. A half-finished painting of burly-looking pirates gathered around an opened treasure chest they had just dug up on the beach sat on the easel in the middle of the room. A basket full of multi-colored clear and frosted odd-shaped glass pieces rested on a small table nearby, along with her tubes of oil paints, and brushes.

  One particular large oval sapphire colored piece of glass caught his attention. “Where did you get these?” he asked.

  Helene looked a bit flustered. “I’m ashamed to admit this. I liberated this batch of Neptune’s Tears from Kenneth Rizzo when he was snoozing on the beach years ago. That’s what we call the bits of glass that wash ashore. When he’s not harassing poor Mary, he goes around picking up all the tears he could find.

  “Hate using the excuse that nobody likes Rizzo, but that’s why I stole them from him,” she admitted. “I thought the tears would look pretty as the jewels the pirates were cavorting over in my paintings.”

  Bob walked over to the table and picked up the sapphire oval. Neptune’s Tear is what Mary had called the treasure she was seeking. It felt vibrant and alive against his fingertips. Against the light of the mid-morning sunlight pouring in from the window, the tear was as Mary had described it—blue as the sky.

  “I think this is it,” Bob told Helene. “I think this is the treasure Mary has been searching for all these years.”

  “Oh my god.” Helene gasped. She leaned against the sole chair in the studio for support. “All those years Mary wasted searching for something I had all this time.” Fat tears of shame rolled down Helene’s posh cheeks. “Hurting Mary was the last thing I ever wanted to do. She’s such a sweetie. Just about everyone on the island adores and loves her.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “I kept those tears I had stolen from Rizzo hidden away. Your visit was the only reason why I brought them out today. I wanted you to get an idea of how I use local materials in my paintings and those were the only ones I had on hand.”

  “Helene, would you mind terribly if I take the tear over to Mary right now?” Bob asked gently. If the tear he held in his hand was indeed the treasure Mary had spent years searching for, he wanted to put it in her hands as soon as possible. “We can continue on with the interview tomorrow around this time, if that’s acceptable?”

  Helene nodded consent, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Would you mind terribly if I don’t show you out?”

  Bob gave her a quick hug for reassurance. “You couldn’t have known that Rizzo had Mary’s treasure.”

  Helene gave him a brief smile of gratitude. “Please tell Mary how dreadfully sorry I am.” She turned back to the window, crying again. Bob placed the tear in his shirt pocket before making the climb back down the ladder. He felt like a first class rat for leaving Helene by herself.

  Hopefully, Mark, her husband, would return shortly from whatever errand he had gone on prior to the interview. Bob made sure the door had locked behind him before making the short drive back to Frolicking Dolphins, the rental Carol and Mary were staying in.

  No joyous greeting was forthcoming from Buddy when Bob knocked on the front door a few minutes later. That was a bit worrisome to him. He had left Buddy with Carol and Aunty Mary before going to interview Helene. Normally, the wolf hound would announce the presence of anyone with a friendly or hostile bark.

  He knocked again. Carol opened the door. Mascara tracks ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Bob, Aunt Mary’s not well.” Carol was desperately trying not to break down in tears. “She hasn’t the strength to get out of bed. She wouldn’t eat anything. She won’t even drink any water. I was about to call 911 when I heard you knocking. Buddy’s with her.”

  “I think I found Aunt Mary’s treasure,” Bob blurted out.

  “Her bedroom, hurry,” Carol said.

  They ran down the hall into Aunt Mary’s bedroom. Buddy was lying beside the frail elderly woman. Her breathing was shallow. Her once joyous eyes were closed. His brown eyes looked pleadingly at Bob to do something, anything to save Aunt Mary.

  “Look, Aunt Mary,” Bob said. His voice broke a bit. “I found it. I found your Neptune’s Tear.”

  He took the sapphire glass oval out of his shirt pocket. He held it up close to her.

  “Please, Aunt Mary, open your eyes,” Carol pleaded. “Bob found your treasure.” Mary’s eyelids fluttered open. Shaky hands rose out of the bed covers and reached toward the tear. Bob gently placed it in her hands.

  “George!” Mary cried. “It’s George! Oh, oh, I must take him into the sea.” With a speed neither Carol nor Bob had been expecting, Mary rose from the bed and ran out of the room. Buddy followed closely alongside her.

  “Aunt Mary, wait! You can’t go outside in your nightgown,” Carol shouted. She and Bob quickly trailed after her. By the time they got back to the living room, Mary had run out of the back of the house.

  She was stumbling a bit on the uneven sand as she headed out toward the oncoming waves. All of a sudden, Buddy broke away from Mary’s side. He began growling, barring his teeth at Rizzo, who was running frantically toward Mary.

  “Out of my way, filthy mutt,” Rizzo huffed. He kicked Buddy as he ran past. The wolf hound howled in agony.

  Bob swore under his breath and took off running toward Rizzo. Rizzo reached Mary before Buddy could recover. He tried to snatch the tear out of her hands, but she held on tight to it.

  “Go . . . get away, Stinky Puss,” Mary screamed. “I never wanted you! George will come back to me now.”

  Rizzo was twisting Mary’s hands by the time Bob had reached them. Mary was screaming in agony.

  “This is for hurting Aunt Mary and Buddy,” Bob said. He was never much of fighter; but he knew how to fight dirty. Two swift kidney punches brought Rizzo down.

  Mary collapsed onto the beach. The tear flew out of her hands and into the incoming tide. Carol quickly rushed to her side and hugged her. Buddy, whining, limped over to them.

  “No, no, I must, I must,” she cried. “Nooooo . . . George!” “I’ll get your treasure, Aunt Mary!” Bob said. Mustering up his courage, he ran after the tear. The tide was carrying it further and further away into the ocean.

  “Bob, hurry! Find it, please!” Carol cried. “I think Aunt Mary is dying.” The water was only past his ankles now, but the fear of drowning was crowding out any form of reasonable thought. Yet he had to find the tear and give it back to Aunt Mary before it was too late.

  A man rose out of the waves and ran past him, toward Aunt Mary and Carol. At first, Bob t
hought it was Connor, until he realized this man was a blond. The only similarity was that he was nude, just like Connor.

  “Please,” the man told Carol. “Mary must be taken into the sea. It’s the only way she’ll survive now.”

  “George,” Mary whispered. “I failed.” Dumbfounded, Carol could only nod as she watched the naked stranger lift Mary from her arms and carry her just far enough into the ocean that incoming waves covered her feet when he stood her up.

  Mary had revived enough to lovingly cup George’s face in her hands. Her tears were mixed with joy and sorrow.

  “Oh, George, you’re finally free from Rizzo’s curse,” Mary told him. “Only Rizzo has won. All those years I’ve spent searching for you. I’m no longer the young woman you fell in love with. Tell me how to release you from the Choice we made so that you can find another to love.”

  Carol had joined Bob in the surf. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” she asked.

  Bob nodded in silent agreement. Aunt Mary’s advanced age was fading away. She was once again becoming the beautiful, vibrant young woman who had lured a merman out of the sea.

  “I’ll not be parted from you again, Mary Morgenstein,” George replied with mock sternness. He kissed her gently on the lips.

  Bob quickly stole a glance at where Rizzo had collapsed. He didn’t want the newly reunited lovers to be interrupted by that scumbag. An irregular shaped, black tear sat where Rizzo had been. A seagull swooped down and carried it out past the sand dunes.

  Mary drew in a sharp breath as she caught her reflection in George’s sapphire eyes. “I’m young once again.”

  “I thought it would be more than a fair trade,” Connor said quietly. Bob turned to find the young man standing behind him. “So I gave Mary my immortality in exchange for about twenty of her years, plus long lives for us both, and Buddy too.”

  Startled, Bob realized that an older Connor was standing there. He still hadn’t lost his impishness as evidenced by the short towel he wore around his waist. He was also sexier than when he was younger, at least in Bob’s eyes.

  “I know something I could put in your mouth if you’re just going to let it hang open like that.” Connor joked playfully.

  “Why?” Bob finally managed to ask.

  “You fear water too much to have chosen to be with me in the sea,” Connor said. “I was also determined not be let my youth be a barrier between us. Did I make my Choice wisely?”

  Connor looked at him with hopeful eyes. Buddy had recovered enough to begin nudging Bob again.

  Carol was saying her hellos and goodbyes to George and Mary. “You did say I’d find a great treasure of my own.” Smiling, Bob embraced him; welcoming the full taste of the ocean’s inviting depths on Connor’s lips.

  Joseph Baneth Allen

  Joseph Baneth Allen grew up in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. He was once mistaken for an international antique thief. An avid reader and writer, his short stories have appeared in the anthologies, Sweat, Riding the Rails, Blood Sacraments, WolfSongs 2, and Wings. His nonfiction has been published in OMNI, Popular Science, Final Frontier, Astronomy, Florida Living, Dog Fancy, Pet Life, eBay Magazine, and many others. He now lives with his family amongst an ever-growing collection of Big Little Books, Gold Key Comics, and G.I. Joes in Jacksonville, Florida, where he continues to write fiction and nonfiction.