Landlocked (A water witch novel)

by C. S. Moore

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  He rolled his head around his shoulders. “Everything is fine. Hey, listen…” He gave me a look of longing. His eyes were full of despair. “I got to run.” He walked away, pausing for a moment then pressing on.

  Clarissa was right. Something was weird with him. But he had been fine before lunch. What had happened? I huffed, once again reminded of how little he let me into his world. I was glad to be anywhere in it at all, but it would have been a lot easier to get by if he informed me a little better. Right now I thought I would probably need to invest in a neck brace from the whiplash of his mood swings. I mean, I had lost my parents too, but I didn’t go up and down like a flipping yo-yo. I remembered what he had said while looking at my painting, something about being in shark-infested waters… crazy and tired from fighting. What was he fighting, and who were the sharks?

  11

  “If you don’t hold still, I will turn off your tunes,” Sylvia said around a mouthful of pins.

  Clarissa stopped swaying to Rihanna’s We found love, a pop song that I actually liked, and was begging to understand a little too well.

  “Wow, good threat. I would have gone with, ‘or I’ll stick you with a pin.’ You’re well equipped for that one,” I said.

  “What, you don’t think I’ll turn down the radio?” Sylvia asked.

  “No,” both Clarissa and I said in unison. I looked over at her and we both busted up laughing.

  “Oh, I guess I really am an old soft serve, I wouldn’t turn off your radio. But I will stick you with a pin if you don’t stop dancing, accidentally of course.”

  “I will do my best not to move,” Clarissa promised. However much she told me she didn’t want to do the debutant thing at the start, she was beaming with excitement now. It was sure to be the bash of the year. “Aren’t you getting fitted for anything?” she asked.

  “No, I’ve got a little something in my closet that will work.”

  “Is it new?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Is it one of Sylvia’s one of a kind designs?”

  “Nope, I think I got it at the Mall last year.”

  “Old and off the rack? Sylvia, I’ve never seen you let Maribel do a formal function like this.”

  “I’d never make her do such a thing. It’s of her choosing,” Sylvia said as she fumbled with the deep blue fabric.

  Clarissa narrowed her eyes. “Let me guess, you have a gorgeous gown waiting in the wings for her, but she chose not to wear it so that I stood out on my day.”

  “Pretty accurate,” Sylvia said as she stuck a pin in the hem.

  “You are so predictable, Maribel. Wear what you like, but you are more than welcome to rock everybody’s socks off with a banging dress. You’re like the debutant of honor or whatever,” she said, standing straighter as Sylvia tugged the skirt down so it laid flat.

  “Wouldn’t I need to be a debutant to be a debutant of honor, if that in fact is a real thing.” I didn’t know much about the crazy tradition but I wasn’t sure that it was entirely possible to hold that title.

  “Well you’re a debutant by association. All of this is just as fake as all of the other rich people titles. And besides, Jaron’s coming. I know you want to look extra good for him… of course you would look extra good in a potato sack.” She shook her head. “Have you seen the dress yet?”

  “No,” I said. I really did want to look good for Jaron. “Sylvia, can we see it?” I asked quickly.

  “Hold on,” she said, standing up. “I’ll run and get it.” She grinned and clapped her hands.

  Clarissa admired herself in the full-length mirror.

  “You really do look amazing,” I said.

  “Debutants are supposed to wear white. My mom strayed a bit from tradition and wore a muted pink dress. Dark blue is something you don’t do for a debutant ball,” she said absentmindedly.

  “Well, the dress is beautiful and you look perfect in it. Why does the color matter?”

  “I don’t know, it’s just tradition. That is what the whole debutant thing is all about. I don’t mind breaking tradition though, especially one that is so stupid and meaningless… I’ll wear a white dress at my wedding, unlike you if you and Jaron keep up the way you‘re going,” she said with a grin.

  “Shut up!” I laughed looking at the door to make sure Sylvia was still out of earshot.

  “Oh!” She mimed locking her mouth and throwing away the key.

  “Right, how long can that possibly last?” I asked as Sylvia came in with a long white plastic bag.

  Clarissa’s eyes got wide. “Normally I’d try to go like two or three minutes without talking just to prove a point, but I have to be able to say, ‘Eeeee!’ when I see your dress, or I can no longer call myself a woman.” Her phone on the side table vibrated and she grinned when she looked at the screen. “It’s a text from my dad, maybe he’ll make it tomorrow after all!” She read the text and frowned. “He just wanted to know where I was and if I was having a good time getting everything read for the party. But he still isn’t coming.” She sent a quick reply and remained sullen. “Cheer me up, Sylvia. Let me see your creation.”

  Sylvia hung the dress on a hook and unzipped it dramatically. The breath came out of me in a rush. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. The materiel was a silk chiffon that was the exact green blue color of my eyes and it was fitted down to the knee where it flared out. The skirt was covered in large iridescent gold sequins that overlapped each other like chinks of armor. Sylvia pulled the dress out of the bag.

  “Try it on!” She helped me into the dress and smiled at me. “Turn around, look at the back.”

  I looked over my shoulder in the mirror. The back was cut in an extremely low V that stopped at my lower back, and the sequins from the skirt climbed up in an arching peak to meet the deep V. It was gorgeous and sexy. Much more so than any other dress Sylvia had ever made for me.

  “Wow, Sylvia, it’s amazing.”

  “Va-va-voom, that’s like a Jessica Rabbit dress. Dang girl, Jaron’s eyes will pop out of his head when he sees you,” Clarissa said.

  “You look beautiful, so grown up,” Sylvia said from behind me.

  “Well, you don’t need to tailor this one. It fits perfectly.”

  The silky fabric clung to my skin nicely and highlighted curves that I'd never noticed I had. I wondered if Jaron would notice or think I was beautiful in it. Or if something would happen to keep him from the ball. The way he was so out of it after lunch, maybe he wouldn’t even show up tomorrow. I looked out the window as I slipped out of my gown. It was still raining. Jaron had been so sweet keeping the umbrella over me while the rain pelted him. But when I bumped into him in the hall, looking awful, he chose to bail instead of talking to me about whatever was going on with him. The doorbell rang, pulling my out of my thoughts.

  Sylvia’s eyebrows pulled together, apparently not expecting anyone. “Hold on I’ll be right back…” she said, setting down her scissors.

  “Were you guys expecting someone?” Clarissa asked, still trying to stand still in her gown.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Your gown is amazing, by the way. It’s crazy, the dress doesn’t wear you and you don’t wear it, it’s like it you wear each other. No one else could rock that like you,” she said smiling down at me.

  Her eyes were soft and I could see that she really did look at me like a little sister. I imagined that her sweet loving gaze was how a big sister would look at her younger sibling.

  “Same goes for you. You will be the bell of the ball.” I crossed the room and took both of her hands in mine. More than once I had wished that we could adopt Clarissa and make her my sister for real. Her family didn’t deserve her.

  “Um, Maribel?” Sylvia said from the doorway.

  I looked over and couldn’t see her behind the giant floral arrangement she was carrying. “Oh my gosh,” I said running over to help her set the huge
white vase on the side table.

  The poor vase didn’t look its true size beneath the large array of lilies and orchids. I drew a blank for a moment, and then realized that Sylvia and Dylan must have gotten them for Clarissa’s birthday. I pursed my lips in annoyance. Why hadn’t they talked to me about it? Lilies and orchids were my favorite. Clarissa liked daisies and roses. Oh well, she’d still be happy.

  “Why didn’t you have this sent to Clarissa’s house? How is she supposed to get this home?” I laughed.

  “This isn’t from me and Dylan, and it isn’t for Clarissa… you think I‘d forget that she likes daisies?” Sylvia said, winking at Clarissa who beamed at my aunt’s remembrance of her favorite flower.

  “So who are they for?”

  “Oh, Mari, you are so ridiculous sometimes… They're for you,” she added. I shifted my eyes to the gorgeous array of flowers and then back to her. “There’s a card, but I’m sure you already know who they're from.”

  Jaron? He wouldn’t send me flowers. It was the last thing I was expecting after he wouldn’t even tell me what was wrong. He'd just walked away, leaving me worried and wondering. He seemed to be good at doing that.

  After a moment of searching, I found a card on a long plastic stem hidden in the blossoms. I tugged it opened and read it.

  Maribel,

  Don’t let the showers get you down, after all this is what they bring.

  -Jaron

  I tried not to smile at his April showers bringing May flowers observation but it was hard not to. I huffed. Why couldn’t I fall for a nice stable guy who’s every move I could predict?

  “Why don’t you look happy?” Sylvia asked.

  “I just…” I tried to decide if I should tell her or not. “Jaron is just confusing. Sometimes I think he is the man of my dreams and I’m the girl of is, and other times, I don’t know… how can I really mean anything to him if he doesn’t open up to me, you know?”

  Sylvia put a hand on my shoulder. “Men are different than women. They don’t like talking about things that are unpleasant. Having a conversation about something that is bothering them is like saying they're weak.” She shook her head. “The male mind is so unreasonable.”

  “I don’t know. I like Jaron, but he worries me sometimes. I don’t like secrets,” Clarissa said.

  Neither did I.

  “All relationships start with secrets, and when you come from a life of hardships like him, or like you, Mari, it’s hard to know how or when to reveal your secrets. He‘s interested in you and you him, just let time take care of the rest. You may fall together, you may fall apart, just don’t over think anything,” Sylvia said, giving me a reassuring look before going back to work on Clarissa’s dress.

  Sylvia didn’t get it. Over thinking wasn’t my problem. I was more worried about under thinking things with Jaron. It would be all too easy not to over think the situation and just dive in, that felt natural. But the rational part of me begged the rest not to go completely head over heels for a guy who wouldn’t be completely open with me.

  I looked at the beautiful flowers, wondering how he could choose my favorite without me telling him. Pulling out my cell phone, I start a text.

  Are you ok? You seemed kind of out of it after lunch.

  My thumb hovered over the send button, I shook my head, erased the message, and started over.

  Why did you walk away from me after lunch? Do you know how crazy it makes me that you won’t—

  I sighed and deleted that text too.

  Thanks for the flowers. They are my favorite.

  I sent that one off, wondering if I'd chosen the right message.

  The doorbell rang again and Sylvia sighed. “We are popular today!” She set down her pins.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, running out of the room. I pulled the door open.

  A stranger in a blue suit smiled at me.

  “Hello, is Clarissa Anderson here?” he asked.

  “Um, yes. Clarissa!” I yelled. She came out of the room, still trying to not move very much in her dress. “There’s someone here for you.”

  “Hello, Miss Anderson. Your father sent me with a gift and his apologies for his absence on your birthday.”

  “All right… where is it?” she asked, looking at his empty arms.

  He lifted his jacket and pulled a key ring out of his inside pocket and handed them to her.

  “No way!” she shouted, no longer being careful in her pinned up dress she jumped up and down.

  “What?” I asked.

  She held up the emblem hanging off the key ring along with a single key. “Do you know what this is?”

  “No,” I said.

  She ran out of the house and I followed, trying to keep her dress off of the ground. She stopped when she reached the edge of the porch. Parked in the drive was a shining silver car. It was sleek, gorgeous, and oddly familiar. After a moment I realized that I’d seen the car in a movie. “Is that…”

  “Yes! It’s an Aston Martin. I told Daddy I wanted to drive James Bond’s car but that was last year. I can’t believe…”

  “It is the new Vanquish. I assure you there is no finer car in the world,” the man said. “V-twelve engine, zero to sixty in four point one seconds… enjoy.” He turned and got into a truck with Clarissa’s father’s company logo.

  I ushered her inside before she did any damage to the dress. She talked endlessly about the car’s specs for the next twenty minutes, and I was happy that her father could reach out even half the world away, although I was sure she would have been happy with a box of chocolates or a puppy. When Sylvia was finished pinning, she sent us out so she could start sewing.

  Clarissa stopped talking about the car for a moment and gazed at me. “I don’t know if Sylvia gave you good advice,” Clarissa said awkwardly as I walk her out.

  “I don’t know if she did either,” I admit. “Why do you think that?”

  She pulled her green jacket off of a hook in the entry closet and shrugged it on. “I just get the feeling that he is hiding a lot of skeletons. I’m not saying he is a bad guy or anything—”

  “No he isn’t a bad guy. I know he isn’t. I feel it in my gut. But he does have skeletons. He told me his life was messed up himself.”

  She pulled her new keys out of her purse. “Well, if he’s being upfront about the fact that he has bad things in his life that he doesn’t want to talk about, you can’t get upset when he doesn’t… if you want to be with him anyway. Does the good about him outweigh the bad?”

  “Yes, sometimes I think he isn’t real because he is so good. But, I don’t really know the bad about him. Right now the only thing that is bothering me is his constant tight lipery.”

  “Tight lipery?” she asked with a laugh. “I don’ know, I got an eye full of you seeming to enjoy his lipery.”

  “Get out of here, nerd! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’m ditching school. I can’t go on my birthday,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, that would be like un-American or something,” she said with a grin.

  “Yes I remember something about that in the Bill of Rights.”

  “Thou shalt not attend school on your birthday,” she said in a throaty voice.

  “I said the Bill of Rights, that sounded more like one of the Ten Commandments.” I laughed. She really didn‘t pay attention in government.

  “Whatever gets me out of it. See you tomorrow… Oh, I’ll have someone come and get my old car. I’ve got to see if this baby really goes zero to sixty that fast.” Clarissa bounded out into the rain and pulled her jacket over her head, screaming something about her hair.

  I laughed. Jaron was right.

  ***

  Gray water rippled with activity and I felt terrified before realizing that this was a familiar scene. I looked at a small skiff on the turbulent waters of the sea—my painting had come to life. The boat lolled in the waves as Santiago paced the deck wildly. A dorsal fin cut above the
water and he snapped his head in its direction.

  “No!” he screamed.

  My head spun as I recognized Jaron’s voice. His face was pulled down in agony and dark circles ringed his brown eyes. He lifted his spear high in the air and jabbed it into the water just as another fin surfaced on the other side of the boat. He pulled his weapon up quickly and stuck it into the predator. The staff slipped through his wet hands, disappearing with the injured creature.

  “Stay away, please stay away,” he begged as he tied his knife to the end of an oar.

  Plunging his make-shift spear into the sea over and over again, he fell to one knee in exhaustion. The small boat rocked as one of the beasts ripped at the catch tethered to it. The water ran red. “No, no.” Tears ran down Jaron’s cheeks as he looked over the side. My lifeless eyes stared back at him. My bloodied and torn body was tied to the boat in place of the marlin. Jaron leapt into the water and put a hand to my white cheek. “I failed you,” he cried before being tugged into the depths and out of sight. Blood swirled in the water like a scarlet rose.

  I awoke with a start and put a hand to my chest, my heart was trying to jack hammer itself out of my rib cage like it had somewhere else it needed to be. Jumping out of bed, I ran to the mirror hanging on the back of the door and looked myself over. Everything was where it should be. I sighed and put my head in my hands before collapsing back into bed. What was wrong with me? Why would I have such a terrible dream? Sylvia came crashing into my room. The woman had hearing like a bat.

  “What’s wrong, darling, another nightmare?” she asked, sitting next to me on my bed.

  “Sort of, do you remember my painting of The Old Man and the Sea?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Well, I was the marlin.”

  Her face fell into a mask of horror as she pictured what I described. “Oh, Maribel,” she said, taking me into her arms and looking me up and down.