by John Everson
“I’ve got a special project for you today,” the shipping master declared, and handed Evan a ream of paper. “These have to be cross-referenced with the files on Trans-Global for the past five years. They’re calling for an audit next week, so I need to you get these in place before you leave today.” He dropped the stack of paper in Evan’s palms with a slap, and walked away.
Bill winked at him. “Told ya he was done. Meet you for a beer tonight at O’Flaherty’s?”
Evan nodded. “Sure.”
“Let’s say eight o’clock? Looks to me like you’re going to be busy until then.”
Evan elbowed his friend in the shoulder. “Thanks a lot. Wanna give me a hand?”
Bill shook his head and laughed. “I didn’t pull detention. This one’s all yours.”
There was already a roiling cloud of smoke drifting ghostlike along the ceiling when Evan slipped into O’Flaherty’s. While California state law prohibited smoking in bars or any other public place, Delilah thought of itself as something of a sovereign state. Nobody was going to complain about smoke at O’Flaherty’s and the cops weren’t going to come down on it. Hell, half the force smoked cigars in the back room on Saturdays.
Evan stepped past a clog of giggling college girls and moved deeper into the recesses of the bar, which wound through two connected rooms, each with cloisters of jabbering people gesturing and indiscriminately sloshing alcohol on its long, dark plank floors. Some stood around tables, some just loitered in the middle of the walkway. The sound of the crowd was louder than the music on the speakers; Evan couldn’t quite tell what song was even playing, he just felt the remote pounding of drums and thudding movement of a bass line.
A hand reached out and grabbed him by the shirt collar. Bill yanked him into a cubby, cut off from the walkway by a stained-glass window. Evan slid onto the stool and sighed.
“Long day in the morgue?”
He nodded. “I thought I’d never get through that stack.”
“Teach ya to be late.”
Evan grinned. “I promise I will be in at eight thirty A.M. on the dot on Monday.”
“Well then, drink up, ’cuz we got two days to kill first,” Bill said, and motioned for the waitress. After she took Evan’s order, Bill cut to the chase.
“It’s worse, isn’t it? With Sarah, I mean.”
Evan nodded. “Yeah. I’m dragging her home almost every night. And then I can’t sleep.”
“Need to get her some help, man.”
“You think I haven’t tried?”
The waitress slipped a foaming glass of Anchor Steam in front of Evan, and he took a deep swallow of the amber brew before saying anything else. Then he put down the glass and looked at his friend. “Right now, I need an ear myself.”
Bill looked surprised, but simply said, “Lay it on me.”
“I’ve been seeing this woman, down by the beach…” Evan began.
Bill raised an eyebrow, and Evan laughed.
“Not like that.” He described the first night he’d stumbled across the nude woman singing on the rocks, and his fear that she’d drowned when she’d suddenly jumped naked into the water and disappeared, not to reappear.
“Naked chicks never drown,” Bill commented. “They’re water nymphs. They always float.”
Evan shot him a look, but went on to tell him the story of the previous night, and of “waking up” while standing in the middle of the ocean.
Now his friend looked interested. “You walked into the water?” he said incredulously. “Up to your chest?”
Evan nodded.
“You’re afraid to put your fuckin’ toe in the water,” Bill said.
“Thank you for overstating the obvious. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t understand it, or how it could have happened. Her voice was just so incredible, so powerful, that I had to get closer, I guess. I got lost in her song and had my eyes closed, and was just…I don’t know, I was in a different place. It was kinda like I went sleepwalking.”
Bill’s forehead wrinkled, and he took a sip of his beer before answering. “You ever sleepwalk before?”
Evan shook his head, negative.
Bill leaned in and spoke softly, but firmly. “You know what I think?” he asked. “I think you saw the Siren.”
“What are you talking about?” Evan laughed, and Bill grinned.
“The Siren of Delilah,” Bill said. “She’s been luring men to their deaths out there by the point for decades.”
“A Siren, like in mythology?”
“Yep. You mean to tell me you’ve lived in this town all these years and you’ve never heard the stories?”
“I don’t pay a lot of attention to urban legends,” Evan said, and took another swig. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“The Siren’s not a ghost,” Bill insisted. “She’s some kind of sea goddess…she lures men to the water, and most of the time, they never return.”
“Then how do you know they went into the water in the first place?”
“What do you mean?”
“If they don’t return, how do you know they ever went into the water?”
“Now you’re just being difficult.” Bill shook his head. “I can’t believe you work at the port and haven’t heard of the Siren. Some of the fishing trawlers won’t even dock here after dark ’cuz they’re so superstitious.”
“I’ve never heard of a shipwreck since I’ve been here,” Evan said. “Isn’t that what Sirens do? Lure ships to crash on the rocks and shit?”
Bill nodded. “Sometimes. But they also lure men into the ocean. We haven’t had a shipwreck here in ages, that’s true. Though there were some a long, long time ago. Plenty of wrecks down there off the point.”
“I hesitate to ask, but…what makes you or anyone else think there’s a Siren haunting the bay now? Seems like a pretty 1800s kind of superstition.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But hell, man, you’ve lived here long enough to know this town. We may be just up the coast from San Francisco, but…there’s a reason the rumrunners used to dock here instead of there. We’re off the beaten path. A little backwoods. And you know what? People do disappear around here periodically. You’ve read about them in the papers and probably just didn’t pay any attention ’cuz you didn’t know them. But whenever it happens, I can tell you what the old guard are saying. They’re shaking their heads when the police statements theorize about runaways who moved on and accidental deaths in the ocean. They’re saying one thing: the Siren is swimming again.”
Evan took a long draught of his beer, and then slammed it, empty, to the wooden shelf before them. “You know how ridiculous that sounds, don’t you?”
Bill shrugged. “Is that any more ridiculous than an aquaphobe who goes sleepwalking into the ocean to chase after a naked chick? I mean, really, Evan.”
“The music lulled me…”
“Exactly. What do Sirens do?”
“Never mind.” Evan shook his head. “You’re not going to convince me that this woman is some weird monster. The whole situation was a little odd, it’s true, and she has a beautiful voice. But that’s where it ends.”
Bill shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
The two men were silent for a moment, and then Bill laughed. “Okay, you win.”
“What are you talking about?” Evan said.
“The whole Siren thing. It was a good try, and you had me going—but c’mon now. Tell me what really happened at the beach. Is this all a long way around you telling me that you are seeing another woman?”
“No—”
Bill shrugged. His face looked completely open, understanding, empathetic. “’Cuz I understand, if you are. I know things have been tough with Sarah since…the accident, but really, Evan, I don’t think that—”
“No, I’m not cheating,” Evan insisted. “I wasn’t making up a story.”
“Okay.” His friend didn’t sound convinced. Instead, he abruptly changed the subject. “So you think the 49ers are going t
o do it this season?”
“Sure,” Evan said. “Why not?” He ordered another beer, and didn’t bring up the woman again.
Chapter Nine
There was a comfort in the familiarity of the wrongdoing…that’s how Evan looked at it. Every night he walked the beach. Every night the sand stuck between his toes and every night he knew it was just an exercise in avoidance. He was expert at that. He knew that the right path was to move on…to step aside from the life that he’d built with Sarah all these years and start a new one. A life that didn’t involve Josh. But…he couldn’t seem to go there, as much as his mind said that it was the right place to be. He walked instead through sand that didn’t care about Evan or Josh or Sarah…sand that had withstood the rush of a hundred thousand tides. Sand that didn’t care if Evan’s son had died here, fucked here or slept here…it didn’t matter.
To Evan, it mattered. He wanted to connect with those places that his son had been…those places that his son held dear. And so he walked the beach again and again. Sometimes it seemed as if a whole world were against them. And sometimes it was just the way of life. Tonight he walked along the tide and imagined his son out in the surf, riding the waves. Josh had taken to the surfboard like a fish; he could twist on a wave like nobody.
Evan used to watch and envy his son’s natural acclimation. He wished that he could be so free in the water; for him it was like watching a bird in the air. The motion seemed natural, but magical at the same time.
The thought of Josh on the waves made him want to cry, but Evan just walked farther down the beach. Down away from memory. Down away from Sarah. Down away from the fear that maybe, just maybe, he could have done something to change what was. What is…
He saw the black shadow of Gull’s Point and shook his head. He would not sing tonight. He would not tempt the woman who had made the past couple nights so disturbing.
Evan picked up a rock and threw it sideways to skip across the waves. It bounced once, twice, thrice…and disappeared.
The emptiness of the waves washed over him and he felt his loss more than ever…the vastness of the world was upon him in the night, and Evan cried. He looked out into the mist of the night, to the horizon, black with empty promises of something that might be tomorrow. Black with…nothing. Evan cried and he wished for more.
There was more.
There was music. He heard the sweet, gentle notes crest the waves like dust. Quietly yet still strong…the sound somehow rose above the rush of water and he listened. He felt the music move his heart and, more importantly, his soul. He tried to ignore it. The music of the naked woman could not impact his life…could not come between him and Sarah. Yet, he could not deny its beauty, its purity. The sound was everything Evan had ever wanted. He closed his eyes to shut it out, but the motion only allowed the sound to cling deeper to his soul…she was inside him, and he could not say no to force her out.
Evan felt his breathing increase, and he knew that he could not deny her call. And then…there she was. Walking out of the waves just in front of him. She strode across the sand, naked and beautiful…perfect. Her eyes were deep and dark…yet bright somehow. Her breasts looked full and firm…desperately longing for him. Her legs posed long and strong, gently curved calves sculpted to muscular thighs, leading across the delta of her sex to the pit of her belly. Her thighs shimmered with wetness, and begged for him to look between, to the place that wanted him…the place that dripped with the ocean, and would, in seconds, drip with him…if he let her.
She was in front of him, and she put cold hands on his shoulders. He could not deny her…he drew her close, and his clothes were instantly damp with the embrace. She felt small in his arms, and yet strong. Her arms fit within his as if she were just a girl, but her breasts pushed against him with an urgency and a fullness that said she was no girl. She said nothing, but her lips spoke enough. They nibbled at his ear, and then slipped to his neck.
“No,” Evan said at first, but he was unconvincing…and then her lips were on his, and his tongue met hers, and “no” was not at all what it said.
Evan kissed the naked woman who pressed against him as if she were the first woman he had ever kissed. His entire body seemed to melt with her touch, and thoughts of Sarah fled like dreams of a past life. His moment was here, now…
He couldn’t deny her, and her hands helped lift his shirt, and fumble the zipper down on his pants. And then he was naked on the beach as well, pressing against her…flesh meeting like heat and cold do—first drawing apart and then melting together. They were like opposites, sea creature and land, but he wanted her more than anything. Her tongue moved against his teeth and lips and he accepted her, drew her in. She was everything he desired; cool and hot in equal measures. She was a fever dream.
He drew her down to the sand and never broke their embrace, his hands exploring her back and ribs and yes, her butt—which was softer than any pillow he’d ever laid his head against. Her own hands explored him too, and he felt himself grow to steel against her…so hard that he couldn’t think of much more than quenching himself within her…using her secret place to soothe the heat she’d inspired.
Her lips didn’t allow him time to think about it for long, as her fingers slipped up from his ass to his head, and pulled him tight to her, urging him inside. And he complied, slipping into that place he’d only gone to with Sarah for years…he moved within her as if it were his second home. Her body offered an exotic attraction, yet also instant familiarity and pleasure, his cock driving deeper and deeper into her, desperately trying to find her core. Evan took the woman as his own, and her moans of pleasure echoed above the surf like carnal music. When at last he was spent, and slipped out of her to gasp exhausted on his back in the sand, she leaned over and kissed his belly, and then his chest, licking around his nipples to arrive finally at his neck, and then his lips. He tasted the salt of his own sweat on her mouth, and then she began to sing.
Evan felt himself drifting off to sleep in the comfort of her melody, and despite his eyelids’ desire to close, he smiled and whispered, “Who are you?”
She paused and with a voice that seemed to come from inside his soul, she answered, “Ligeia.”
Chapter Ten
Evan woke to the moon overhead, its light sharp and piercingly white in his eyes. A cool night breeze swept the beach, and he shivered. Goose bumps peppered his arms, and he realized that he’d been sprawled out there, nude on the sand, visible to anyone who might be out for a late-night stroll. For how long?
“Shit!” He rolled to a crouch and looked around, but spotted nobody. What time was it? He hurriedly brushed the sand off his skin and pulled on his pants. Once half dressed, he located his cell phone and checked the time. 11:34. Not too late, but late enough. Thank God it wasn’t three in the morning.
Evan shook out his shirt and then slipped it over his head. He scanned the beach again, and nobody looked to be around, including the woman. Ligeia?
A sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as the memory of their coupling played out in his mind like a pornographic movie. He had cheated on Sarah. God…why? Things had been difficult with them this year, but even when they’d grown distant he’d never really wanted another woman. He swallowed, as if the act would wash away the memory, but instead he tasted the musky, salty flavor of Ligeia. He began walking quickly toward home and felt grains of sand chafing between the cheeks of his ass. He needed a shower, but he needed to get to the bar to pick up Sarah, if she hadn’t come home yet. All of the euphoria of sex was gone; Evan felt like a jerk. A jerk in a hurry. He began to jog along the beach and then up the street to his house.
The lights were out as he followed the walk to the front door. He unlocked it and slipped inside. “Sarah?” he called. But there was no answer.
Damn. He ran to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Then he stripped out of his clothes for the second time that evening. Leaning over the sink, he stared hard at himself in the mirror. “Cheater,” he sa
id to his reflection. Brown eyes looked away from his accusation. His face looked thin to him, and Evan pursed his lips. Her taste still clung to him, and he quickly covered his toothbrush with paste and tried to scrub Ligeia away. Then he stepped into the steaming shower and did the same with his body. He was tempted to use Sarah’s loofah, but it just seemed too much like one more betrayal to scrub the sweat of another woman from his body with his wife’s bathing aids. Instead he doused himself with soap and scrubbed fast and furious, leaving his skin raw.
He toweled off and redressed, throwing his beach clothes to the bottom of the hamper. Then he ran back out into the night to find his wife.
Sarah’s eyes were bloodshot when Evan found her at O’Flaherty’s. She was talking to a beefy balding guy whom Evan vaguely recognized as one of the port’s dock workers when he walked up.
“Hey, baby.” She grinned feebly as he pulled up a stool. “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.” The dock man faded back quickly when he realized the situation. Evan laughed to himself. Sorry, pal, not gonna take advantage of my drunk wife tonight. Though, he mused, if he let it happen, it would sort of even the score between them.
No, he didn’t think Sarah would go home with another man, even if blitzed. She was loyal and true; with way more character than apparently he had.
“Sorry, babe,” he said. “I dozed off. Ready to go?”
She nodded and he took her elbow to help her down. Sarah leaned heavily against him, and he supported her with an arm around the waist as they walked unevenly toward the door. “I think my butt’s asleep,” she mumbled. “Maybe you can rub it for me when we get home.”
He saw the look of sodden lust in her eyes, and rubbed her ass for a second through her jeans. “Sure,” he said. For a moment he panicked…how could he make love to Sarah tonight? After…But then he shrugged off the fear. He knew that she was not going to be in any condition once he got her home and undressed. And he was right.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Sarah was lying facedown in their bed as Evan pulled off her pants and socks.
