by Susan Fodor
I handed him the tin and climbed out quickly, “Let’s throw the dirt back in the hole and get out of here.”
dueling
Daniel insisted I stand watch, as he and Charlie set about refilling the grave. I hugged the dirty old box to my chest, as I watched the boys laboring, methodically filling their shovels with mounds of damp earth and tossing it back into the hole. The scene made me shudder; especially since I’d been in the grave only moments ago.
An unspoken contest began between the boys, each trying to fill their shovel more than the other. It seemed like a friendly match, though an underlying tension was brewing.
Charlie turned to the mound of dirt, taking a huge amount on his long handled shovel. Daniel turned into Charlie’s path at the same time, as Charlie approached the hole; they collided with a thump that resonated into the ground, and caused dirt and worms to erupt over the two of them.
“What the heck?” Daniel hissed in open anger.
“Sorry man, it was an accident,” Charlie replied, ruffling the dirt out of his hair.
“Like falling into the hole with Mya was an accident?” Daniel accused.
It took me a moment to realize the collision was escalating into something more than a simple accident.
“We were just trying to hide,” I loud whispered in their direction, but Charlie and Daniel continued to stare at each other in open hostility. The tension that had marred their relationship was igniting into open conflict at the worst possible time.
“What are you implying about our princess?” Charlie spat, the issue becoming a matter of honor.
“I don’t have a problem with Mya, I have a problem with you and your puppy dog eyes, and the way that you’re laying tracks with my girl,” Daniel replied, puffing out his chest and stepping closer to Charlie.
An owl hooted in the distance, and the cold was biting my skin. We didn’t have time for them to be having an argument, least of all about me.
“Seriously guys, this is not the time or place. Fill in the hole and you can talk about your differences, in front of the fire with hot chocolate and marshmallows,” I reasoned amicably.
Charlie looked at me like I’d lost my mind, clearly I was inexperienced when it came to male conflict resolution.
“Don’t look at her like that,” Daniel yelled, getting up in Charlie’s face.
“It’s fine,” I placated, hurrying toward them.
“You’re the one who just questioned her honor,” Charlie shot back, “and mine. I’m not a train driver.”
“I’m pretty sure train drivers don’t lay tracks,” I giggled nervously, as I stepped into the edge of the dirt hill, trying to talk them down. To get closer to them I would have to scale the mound of dirt, I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to me standing between them. “This is a really bad time to be doing this. Come on...”
“Don’t do it again,” Daniel threatened, pushing his finger into Charlie’s chest, ignoring me.
“Whatever dude,” Charlie said with disdain, turning back to the mound of dirt.
Charlie’s shovel dragged on the ground, banging against Daniel’s foot.
A look of pain shot through Daniel’s eyes, in a nano second he raised his shovel overhead.
“No!” I screamed.
Charlie turned with lightning speed, raising his shovel in self-defense, stopping Daniel’s strike inches from his face, and showering them both in loose dirt.
Charlie flicked Daniel’s shovel back, so that it almost struck him in the face; instead Daniel gripped his shovel like a sword, swinging at Charlie again.
Charlie parried, fighting back Daniel’s assault. The clank of shovelheads broke the silence of the inky night. It was like a rustic swordfight; that seemed to go on forever. Thrust, parry, clunk, thwack, lunge, thrust, parry, clunk, clunk, clunk.
“Stop it! Stop it!” I hissed, yell whispering, over the clacking of the wood connecting and clanging of metal.
Charlie yelped as Daniel connected with his torso, and Charlie slapped Daniel’s arm in response with his shovel. They returned to thrusting and parrying, ready to beat each other into submission.
I could feel the pressure of my rage and fear coursing through me, angry that they would fight at such an inopportune time and fearful that they would hurt each other.
“STOP!” I screamed, causing them to pause and look at me. “If you don’t stop right now, I’m going to punch you both in the nuts. Not now, because you’re expecting it, but when you’re sleeping or relaxed, when you expect it the least. I’m going to punch you in the nuts so hard that you’re going to have three Adams apples.”
Daniel and Charlie looked at me like I’d grown an extra head.
Charlie’s bewildered expression turned to amusement, and he began to laugh, lowering his shovel to the ground.
“I’m sorry man.” Charlie laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to have three Adams apples.”
Daniel began to chuckle. “Me neither, sorry.”
They placed their shovels in their left hands and shook hands awkwardly. I was breathing hard, my heart beating a million miles an hour from the anxiety of watching them fight. I felt sick from the stress of the battle.
Daniel walked over, placing his arm around me in comfort. “Are you OK?” he asked, noticing that I’d started shaking with anger.
“No, I’m not alright,” I snapped, slapping his arm off. “It’s dark, we’ve desecrated a grave and you nearly had your head bashed in. That last thing wasn’t necessary. You both need to learn to get along, you’re princes, you should know better.”
Charlie walked over gingerly. “Sorry, we’ll try harder.”
Daniel nodded, rubbing my back. “Sorry.”
A look passed between them, they nodded at each other incrementally.
I wiped my nose across my arm, due to the cold as much as emotion. “Fill in the hole and let’s get back to the car,” I ordered.
The guys nodded, returning to the hole obediently. It took Daniel and Charlie a fraction of the time to fill in the hole, that had taken over an hour to dig.
It wasn't until the safety of the car that my fear abated, the relief of driving back to our apartment left me drained. I clutched the tin like a Luis Vuitton bag.
"Are you going to open that?" Daniel asked, curiously.
"When we get back to the apartment," I answered protectively.
the biscuit tin
The apartment was empty when we arrived; Charlie stoked the fire savagely to get more heat into the room. Daniel and Charlie performed the dance of awkwardness, where they tried to stay out of each other’s way, while being under each other’s feet.
I settled on the rug in front of the fire, with Daniel on one side and Charlie on the other. They both moved gingerly, after having bruised each other. I would have felt sorry for them, if I hadn’t been angry at their immaturity. The three of us huddled around the fire as I removed the lid from the antique biscuit tin. It made a hissing sound as the lid released the box after seven decades.
“I hope it’s still intact,” I voiced my concern.
Inside, a dark fur caught the light, making it glow intermittently. I heard the front door open, but my mind was focused on the pelt.
“What is it?” Daniel asked, still unaware that I’d lied.
“It’s me pelt,” Kerensa screeched, flying across the room to retrieve it. “Ye found it. Me crackers, where was it?”
I rose from the floor guilty, Daniel and Charlie carefully stood beside me. Trying to act like they weren’t hurt, so they wouldn’t have to explain to everyone that they had fought.
“In Ennor’s grave,” I admitted sheepishly, as Kerensa hugged the pelt close to her body.
“That old cow made me as miserable in her death as she did in her life,” Kerensa spat.
“You dug up a grave?” Mum asked, horrified.
“We refilled the hole,” Charlie appeased.
Mum wasn’t happy, but Kerensa’s e
nthusiasm quelled the lecture.
“Who cares?” Kerensa smiled. “They found me pelt; I can go home.” She threw the fur over her shoulders and it constricted around her, till she was a dark seal with long silver whiskers.
Dr. Conneely drew closer, peering into the box. “That’s Mama’s diary,” he said, picking up an old book from the tin.
Kerensa’s interruption had stopped us from noticing the journal in the bottom of the box.
Kerensa pulled off her pelt to handle the leatherbound volume. “I remember this.” She breathed in the musty smell of the book. I expected her to cough, but she relished the dusty fragrance.
“Look,” Dr. Conneely read. “The Heart of the Sea is easy to find; it’s where art and nature are combined. You will not find it with your eyes; it will be found with the heart’s desire.”
“Mama was big on riddles,” Kerensa said fondly.
“So, the Heart of the Sea is in the Minack,” Dr. Conneely concluded, “where nature and art combine.”
“But where in the Minack?” Mum asked. “We’ve searched it twice.”
“We’ll have to look again tomorrow,” I concluded. A warm feeling of accomplishment filled my chest. I’d found the pelt and a clue to finding the Heart of the Sea. I was feeling confident that Dr. Conneely’s vision was accurate.
Kerensa threw her arms around me in a warm embrace. “I know you’ll find it,” she gushed. “You said you’d find me pelt, and ye did.”
Kerensa turned quickly, still clutching her pelt. She picked up a rumpled paper bag from the floor that she had dropped in her hast to retrieve her pelt. With deliberate steps and a broad smile, she pushed the bag into my hands. “I brought something for ye; after our talk today, you said you had no pelt. Me papa would want ye to have his.”
I opened the bulky bag and pulled out a huge black seal fur. It was big enough to fit three people, and cascaded onto the floor like a cape.
“I thought you buried that with him,” Dr. Conneely said, shocked.
“He told me that one day, I’d find someone who needs it,” Kerensa shrugged. “The girl’s got nothin’—she may as well ‘ave this.”
“Pelts don’t transfer, though,” Charlie stated. “It only works for the person who was born with it.”
“I knows that,” Kerensa snapped. “Would I still be here if me papa’s pelt would have got me home? It’s a symbol to remind ye that when the time is right, you’ll become a seal, but in the meantime enjoy being a furless selkie.”
“Thank you,” I said, hugging her. The smile on my lips reflected the joy I felt that Kerensa could return to her husband and Escamonte. I was touched by the gesture of being given such a precious gift. While everyone beamed about how lovely my transformation would be, I was disheartened by the prospect.
“Try it on,” Mum said quietly, her eyes told me that it was to show respect.
I wanted to object because it felt silly, but everyone was looking at me eagerly. I placed the fur over my head the way I’d seen Mum put her pelt on. It had been on my head only moments when I felt a burning sensation all over my body. My skin felt like it was on fire. I screamed as I felt myself shrinking to the floor. Mum rushed forward to help me, but it was futile—the fur was killing me.
something borrowed
All I could hear was the scream rushing out of me like an air horn. It filled the apartment like a flood, causing everyone to panic; many hands grabbed at me, trying to help, but it was futile. I felt like I was dying.
Mum took my face in her hands. "Mya... Mya, focus; you're OK."
"I can't breathe, I can't breathe," I panted, red-hot panic searing the back of my skull. I grabbed at my body, trying to tear the fur of me.
"You're having a panic attack," Mum soothed. "You're fine. Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out."
I focused on filling my lungs with air, the panic abated incrementally with each breath. I looked at Mum, calm and regal. It was so strange to see her towering over me when we were roughly the same height. I focused on my breathing; trying to slow the shallow panicked breaths that were making my head spin. Slowly the room stopped spinning, everyone was looking at me with wonder and fear.
"You're amazing," Charlie said with unabashed admiration. "You're the only selkie ever to use another selkie's fur."
I looked down at my body, a golden furry chest greeted me. I lifted what should have been my hand, but it was a seal flipper. It was both horrifying and captivating, to see my seal body. I felt small and contained; it didn’t feel right in any way. All I wanted was to see my ugly toes again.
"She looks nothing like Papa," Dr. Conneely observed in surprise.
"Papa was as black as night and as big as a Pantheon boulder," Kerensa stated. "You're a golden grey slip of a seal."
"Thanks." I breathed in and out evenly, the attention making me even more self-conscious.
Sophia was the only one who thought to bring me a mirror. I stared at the petite seal locking eyes with me; my brain struggled to comprehend the unimaginable. I turned my snout from side to side, watching my whiskers knit the air. They were so sensitive; I could feel the air rushing around them as I moved my face. The seal was cute, with a ball on its nose it could have been a great circus attraction, but it didn’t feel like me. It was foreign and unnerving. It made me different, when all I wanted was to fit in till graduation, and then travel the world for the summer and start university. The creature before me threatened everything that I wanted.
Charlie winked encouragingly. "You're a hottie."
Daniel stared at me through vacant eyes. My heart stopped at the serious look on his face. Perhaps the notion of having a seal for a girlfriend was more romantic than the reality. A whole new panic was rising within me. Maybe my transformation was all it would take to drive Daniel away from me. My eyes pleaded with him to say something.
Then a smile spread across Daniel’s lips. "Everything is going to be perfect; all we need now is the Heart of the Sea."
eaves dropping
I lay in bed that night, assessing the day’s events. It had taken a long time to get out of the seal fur, I’d panicked that I would be caught in it for seven years, simply because I couldn’t find the catch to take it off.
After a shower and comfort food, I felt much better, but the image of Daniel and Charlie fighting in the cemetery still plagued me. The boys had sheepishly walked to the bathroom wearing long sleeved shirts to hide the bruises from our mothers. The previous night they’d paraded their chests through the apartment proud as peacocks, but fear of a verbal mother-slap-down had relegated them to covering up.
I tossed and turned beside Mum, who had given me a mild discourse about respecting people’s property and refraining from future grave desecration, before she had fallen into comatose sleep.
There was no way I could sleep while I worried about Daniel and Charlie suffocating each other with pillows while everyone slept. I figured if they could assure me that they would still be living in the morning, it might aide in getting some sleep. I crept out of bed and past Dr. Conneely’s snoring form, stopping outside the boys bedroom deliberating if knocking made me a stalker.
Charlie’s warm voice resonated through the door. “Look man, I’m not a disc jockey, I’m not trying to tune Mya.”
The mention of my name caused me to take a step closer to the door. Alarms in my brain warned me that eaves dropping on the boys conversation was wrong; but they would never speak openly in front of me. I just wanted to know that they were safe and getting along. Guilt poured through me, causing me to turn back toward my room.
Daniel chuckled. “Seriously, you get disc jockey from tuning; I would have thought mechanic.”
“That works too,” Charlie agreed, grinning. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to worry about me and Mya.”
“You will never convince me of that,” Daniel replied, a hard edge to his voice.
I stepped back to the door; my hand on the knob, afraid that another fig
ht was about to ensue.
“That sucks,” Charlie said, disgusted, “because you’re not just mistrusting me, you’re mistrusting a girl who would do anything for you. Including facing scary silver monsters that almost drowned her, and digging up a grave, and traipsing around the countryside on the behest of a weird old dude who I’ve never seen shower.”
I didn’t need to see Daniel to know that he was running his fingers through his hair unable to disagree with Charlie’s assertion. “I don’t want to lose her.” Daniel’s words were filled with fear. It made my insides tremble to think that Daniel feared losing me as much as I feared losing him. A small smile spread across my lips.
“You’re not going to,” Charlie assured him. “Mya loves you. She’s never given up on anyone or anything that she loves.”
My heart filled with warmth at Charlie’s words, even though we hadn’t seen each other in five years, he still knew me.
“How do you know that?” Daniel asked, confrontationally.
“Because I’ve known Mya more of her life than I haven’t,” Charlie said confidently. “I remember we went to the pet shop to buy her a guinea pig for her birthday. She saw a rabbit, and it was sick looking. Its ears were dragging and its eyes were filled with puss and it was gross...”
“Please tell me her parents didn’t buy it for her?” Daniel said, as immersed in the story as I was. The story he was telling sounded familiar; I knew that it had happened, but it felt like it was in another life.
“Yeah they did,” Charlie affirmed, fidgeting to get comfortable, “and she nursed that rabbit, giving it medicine and wiping its eyes and making sure it was well fed. She never gave up on it. Any other person would have seen it and steered clear, but her reasoning was that, it was an honor to own a special pet.”
“What happened to it?” Daniel asked.
Before Charlie answered, I remembered putting the rabbit in a box and burying it in the back yard. A twinge of latent grief at being unsuccessful in saving my pet made tears well in my eyes. I hoped that I could save Daniel and selkie pups.
