Calder reached out, pulling the waitress back to him. “Did she…” This is so stupid. He swallowed, and then pushed ahead, ignoring the sudden dryness in his throat. “Did she have legs?”
She scowled. “Are you okay? Maybe I should call an ambulance? You must have hit your head harder than I thought. What else would she have? Fins?” When he did not smile or laugh, her mirth drained away. “You sure you’re okay?”
Mike’s firm hand came down to rest on Calder’s shoulder, steadying him once more. Mike echoed, “Maybe that’s a good idea.” Calder could hear the worry.
“No. No. I’m okay. Just call me a cab.” He swayed slightly, and Mike’s grip tightened. “I’m ready to go home.”
Calder attempted a grateful smile. The waitress pranced away with her tray, once again behind the counter, processing waiting customers’ tabs.
“Give me a minute. I need to check on Venora.” Mike guided Calder into a nearby chair, pushing him into the seat. “You wait right here.”
Mike’s hair turned darker, then lighter, darker then lighter as he strolled from pool of light to pool of light in the dimly lit bar. As Mike spoke into her ear, the brunette smiled and then frowned toward Calder.
In the end, she nodded, and then placed her purse on a chair to dig through it. She pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen. She wrote something and tucked it into Mike’s pocket. Her hand lingered longer than needed and she pulled Mike toward her. When she leaned forward to speak into his ear, Mike looked down, ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up at awkward, blond angles over his surprised eyebrows.
Calder could only guess at the specifics. He lifted his right hand. The throbbing was worsening. His fingertips found stickiness and he explored the painful area on his forehead. He cursed again.
Oh man, that’s sore. Already. Bits of dried blood flaked away. Calder swept his arm across the table to send the mess to the sandy floor. This was a bad idea. Gaire swam across his thoughts. I came to forget, but you were already here. He pulled himself to his feet and trudged toward the door.
He slipped out, letting the bar’s screen door slam behind him. The slap rang across the quiet beach. Footprints of the day’s visitors were the only evidence of people.
He stepped over a beach towel. It was folded into the sand, nearly hidden. A small blue plastic shovel lay nearby. A mom… probably. He imagined himself as a dark-haired boy running across the sand. Did my mother like the beach? The ocean? Why did she leave?
He heard the bar door slap again behind him. “Calder?” Mike called. “Taxi’s on its way.”
“Yeah.” Calder didn’t turn around, still staring across the moonlit coastline.
“Let’s go.”
Calder turned from the water. When he reached Mike, he playfully punched the smaller man’s shoulder. “Bet you didn’t figure on this sorta evening.”
Mike laughed. “No, no, I didn’t think you’d start tossing back whiskey, fall, knock your head, and split your skull open.”
Calder leaned on the metal railing surrounding the building. “No.” His hand brushed across his forehead. Calder winced at the pain. He continued, “You’ve always been good to me.”
His friend shrugged. Calder could see discomfort in Mike’s expression. “Don’t get mushy. It was just a bike. I’d gotten two that year. And it’s not like we adopted you or anything.”
“You know it wasn’t just a bike to me, Mike. I’m not sure I’d have made it through those years without that bit of hope. But I do have a question…” Calder paused, searching for a way to ask the question without sounding delusional. “Did you see a woman at the table where I fell?”
Mike folded his arms across his chest. “You hit your head pretty hard…” His voice trailed off. “I figured you were on your way to the bathroom.”
Calder exhaled. “No.”
Mike put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you saw a pretty woman. I didn’t. Though, that’s not the way it normally works with us.”
Calder grimaced. “No, I guess not.” A yellow taxi pulled into the sandy parking lot. “Listen,” he put his hands into his pockets. “Thanks. My head’s clearing, and the whiskey’s wearing off a bit. You stay here.” He gestured toward his injury. “It’s really just a scratch. I’ll be back to work in the morning.”
Calder waited while Mike’s lust warred with Mike’s worry. Mike studied Calder for long moments. “You sure?” Mike slipped one hand into a pocket. Calder barely caught the sound of paper crinkling and knew lust was winning.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll take the taxi home and sleep it off. I don’t think you’d be happy spending the rest of your night…” Calder paused, knowing he had already won. “…sleeping.” He drew out the word.
Mike chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, sleeping doesn’t sound so good.” He took Calder’s outstretched hand, shook it twice, and headed toward the bar. Just before disappearing inside, he called, “I’ve never smelled anything as good as Vee. She smells like home.”
What a weird thing to say.
He contemplated following Mike back into the bar to meet Vee, but the honk of the taxi distracted him, and before sliding into the ripped seats, he opened the rear window, and slammed the door.
Calder settled into the leather. The windows opened enough to dilute the smells in the rent-a-ride. Through bloodshot eyes, the cabby peered at Calder in the rearview mirror. A sleazy grin showed missing teeth.
“Need womans, mister?” The accented voice held a smile.
“Yeah,” Calder muttered under his breath.
“I know womans, mister. Real good womans. Bee-you-ti-ful.”
Calder shook his head. He leaned against the door, ducking out of view. The cool breeze helped push away the alcohol-dulled thoughts.
She was there. He smiled. Real life. In a bar. For me. His smile widened.
“You want womans, mister?” The voice grated in Calder’s ear.
“No, no, I don’t, man.” Calder shifted upward in the seat, meeting the dark eyes of the driver. I have an idea. “I want a tattoo.” He punched the back of the driver’s seat, excited at the new plan. “Take me to the closest tattoo shop.”
“No womans?” Calder heard the disappointment and confusion.
“No womans. I already found the one I want.”
Chapter 3
Calder unlocked his cheap, second-floor apartment door. The sounds seeping through the thin walls brought Gaire to mind. Neighbor must have company. I wonder if Gaire has a place to stay around here. Do finned women check into hotels?
He slammed the door behind him. Unable to sleep with Gaire somewhere in the city and a new tattoo on his side, he prowled the apartment. The bandage pulled at the sensitive skin.
He tugged on the handle of his old fridge. Four beer cans stood like sentinels on the top shelf. Nothing else. He chugged one standing in the open door. The light from the appliance lightbulb splashed across the darkness. He pulled open a drawer and tsk-tsk-ed over the icy head of lettuce. Taking the black marker from the Velcro spot on the dry erase rectangle, he wrote Need groceries. Then he added, Need new fridge, followed by two exclamation points. Need MY woman, he scrawled with a wry laugh, and underlined it.
Pulling a second beer from the fridge, he crossed to the sliding door. A folding chair rested in the corner of the small balcony. He unbuttoned and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor, cringing as the skin beneath his large bandage stretched with the movement.
The door complained in its track when he shoved against it. How does she open this so quietly every night? He cursed, and then set his beer on the floor. Using two hands, he gently lifted the heavy glass panel, feeling a stab at his side. It slid open, a rush of cool air skipping across Calder’s shoulders and into the room.
Stepping through, Calder gingerly lowered himself into the folding chair. Cigarette butts stood upright in a little grove in the sandy soil at the rear of an empty pot. Mike’s. One twig reached up from the
center of the pot, long since dead. Calder remembered the one and only party Mike threw at his apartment – Calder’s twenty-fifth birthday. He chuckled. Worst surprise ever. Have those been out here since last year? A turn in his thoughts brought the end-of-the-night fiasco to his mind…
“Surprise!”
Shock held Calder’s response and froze his steps. His hand tightened on the shiny brass knob, the tinkling sound of his keys was drowned out by the jubilant yell. Calder said nothing in the lengthening silence, stepping backward when Mike leaped over the couch. “Surprise, Lumberjack!” His voice dropped to an agitated whisper. “Surprise, dammit, and look happy about it!”
Calder heaved a smile to his face and tossed an awkward laugh into the quiet. Under his breath, he answered, “You know I hate surprises, Mike.” To the room, “Wow! Can’t believe this! I had no idea!”
Calder’s eyes widened before the group of party-goers absorbed him in the middle of the room.
Four hours later, the room was covered with empty paper plates and cups. Calder glanced at his watch. One a.m.
He looked over the two remaining guests. Calder knew neither, puzzled by their lingering presence on his cheap furniture. Mike closed the door behind the departing guests, smiling at the two still-seated ladies. “Well, Cal, I’m off. I hope you had a good party.” He winked. “And have a good night. Happy birthday.”
Calder frowned, concern in his voice, “Mike?” When Mike made eye contact, Calder raised his eyebrows, questioning, nodding his head toward the women.
Mike laughed. “Yep.” He flashed thumbs up. “Happy birthday.”
Calder glanced toward the two ladies now donning suggestive smiles and come-hither looks. He followed Mike through the front door and into the hall. “What do you expect me to do with them?”
Mike laughed. “Geez, Cal, do I need to draw a map?”
Calder pressed his lips together, biting back an angry tirade. “Mike. You better take them home.”
Mike drew back in surprise. “You’re kidding me.”
“No, I don’t do it like that. You know that. I can’t.”
“I’ve never really seen you with a woman.”
“That’s not true,” Calder argued.
“It’s been a long time, Cal. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just tonight. I met them on the cruise with my parents. They’re…” Calder waited while Mike searched for the word. “Open to things… It’s your freaking birthday.” Calder did not relent, even when Mike stepped closer and shoved his finger into Calder’s chest. “You. Are. A. Fool.” Mike stomped back into the room.
“Well, ladies, looks like you’ll be coming home with me tonight.” They giggled and chattered to one another. “Cal has other plans.” He glared.
Calder watched from the balcony as Mike escorted the ladies from the apartment building. Once gone, Calder leaned over the railing, watching birds fly under the full moon and over the sea, and cursing his foolishness.
That night was the first dream… A year until I finally met you – mermaid of my dreams. He liked to think of it as Gaire’s reward for abstaining. He smiled. Maybe they’ve never been dreams.
After his beer, he crawled into bed. Calder left the sliding door open. Just in case. He wished absently for a television to push thoughts of Gaire from his mind. Avoiding his side and any pressure on the bandage and the aching skin beneath, he switched off the bedside light to stare into the dark, trying to come up with a plan to find her.
File a missing person report? Call the cops and tell them… What exactly? He covered his face with his palms. How am I going to find her?
Hours passed. He stirred from dozing and rolled to his back, sensing rather than hearing someone in the room. The scent had returned, still soft on the air. “Gaire?”
A laugh lilted from the shadows, followed by a hushed, “Calder.”
He reached. “Come here.”
She did it without objection. She caressed his forehead, but the scent grew heavier. “You should not remember me, beloved.” He tried to lift his hand. Your hair… He felt the smoothness sliding through his fingers as he bent to kiss her. Gaire was the one that closed the space between them.
Calder embraced Gaire, and her hand slipped behind his head. The feel of her fingers splayed in his hair brought fire curling through him. When their lips touched, Gaire gasped and pulled away. “Calder.” Her voice pained. “Your head. I had not realized…”
Calder’s thoughts stumbled. “What?”
Gaire began searching his body, running her hands over every inch, examining him. She came to the white bandage taped to his side. “Who did this to you?”
He grinned at her distress. He mumbled, his voice muffled by the paralyzing scent, “I asked someone to do that to me, after I fell… in the bar.”
“You make no sense. You asked someone to hurt you?” She fussed with the bandage. Pain sliced through him as she peeled the dressing away from the broken skin.
“No, no, no, Gaire, don’t do that, you don’t understand. You’ll ruin it.”
She ignored Calder’s pleadings. He flinched when she placed her hands over the wounded skin, gently asking, “What is this marking?” She crouched down, eye level with the new tattoo, and blew a cool breath across his skin.
A sharp intake of air was all Calder could manage. The cooling sensation tingled across the artwork, and then condensed to a bright light in his head. A blast of cold wind exploded down over the bed. Gaire’s hands glowed blue.
“What are you doing?” Panic creeped into his chest and he trembled.
As quickly as it had come, the wind and light died. She lifted her hands. “Healing you.” Calder flinched as her fingertips dragged across the tattoo. She traced the face of the woman. Bright green eyes glowed above the red lips that smiled on his side. Black hair lifted in a watery cloud around the topless mermaid, her fin drawn in blues and greens. Her name was shaped from the sea plants beneath her.
“It’s beautiful.” She brushed her hand across his forehead. He winced, expecting pain, but felt none.
* * *
The next morning, Calder woke on the futon. Gaire had disappeared, and the empty bed kept him awake. Alone in the Spartan apartment, he squinted into the Saturday morning sun shining directly into his eyes. He groped the coffee table, looking for his cell.
Mike had texted his thanks for letting him go. Twice.
Must have been a good night.
Calder sat up. His mind was clear and his body limber. He stood, expecting to feel dizzy, but then remembered the bright light. He examined his tattoo in the daylight. The colors were vivid, the skin restored. More flashes of pale hands across his skin came flooding back to his mind.
He lifted his hand to his head. No pain. He caught sight of himself in the bathroom at the end of the room. No bruises, no blood, no gash. He grinned. Thank you, Gaire. He crossed his arms, scowling at his tall self.
Now, how do I find you? Mike won’t be up for hours. He considered the brunette woman from the bar. I may not see him for days. I’ll grab some food and spend the day working while I figure out how to find a mermaid in San Francisco.
The broad-chested man strolled down the street, enjoying the temperate morning. Birds were singing, and in his joyful mood, he noticed all the happy things. He slipped into the deli, ordered a Rueben, two pickles, and freshly home-made salt & vinegar potato chips. The mom always gave him extra when the pop wasn’t around. He strolled out with enough for two meals. The air still held the hearty laugh from the ample deli woman following his semi-risqué humor.
The padlock on the art studio door was moist from heavy dew. Whistling a peppy tune, he slid the key into the lock. The sliding metal door creaked to the right. Once inside, he pulled the door closed behind him. Dozens of tiny prickles ran up the back of Calder’s neck. His trilling melody dwindled to nothing. The painting of the woman leaned against the wall, not between the reefs.
Has her smile changed? Waves of unease pricked across his
skin. His pulse quickened, and every sensation intensified. He stood very still, trying to identify the source. He cautiously followed the interior perimeter of the building.
Finding nothing disturbed, he turned to his canvas. On his easel, leaned against his current painting-in-progress, rested a bright red, rectangular bottle. Inside, a small envelope waited. Calder was scratched across the front, emblazoned in still-wet-looking black ink. He carefully lifted the delicate decanter, peering in. Calder inhaled. Coconuts, jasmine, and saltwater… She’s been here.
How do I get it out?
Seeing no other alternative, he dropped the vessel and smashed it beneath his heel. He lifted the envelope from the shattered glass remains. He turned the envelope to rip open the flap. The stiff sharpness of the jagged edges cut his index finger, and as he pulled the single sheet from its womb, a smear of red blood turned brown on the heavyweight sheet.
Calder wiped at the mess, but gave up when he added another apostrophe shaped trail across the leathery page, instead deciding to trade the letter from one hand to the other, shoving the bleeding finger in his mouth to keep from spoiling the words further.
My dearest Calder,
I never meant to startle you at the bar. Our appointed time has not yet come, but I could not wait any longer. I met the Land Lost at Three Fingers and begged them to teach me to appear as a woman, just to find you and touch you.
I have been the woman in your dreams for so long. I find myself frequenting the Bay, hoping to catch sight of you walking the beach. I watch you from a distance. Hiding behind driftwood, I came close enough to recognize the longing in your face; I share your longing.
I cannot bear it. The waiting is driving me mad. I am more than dreams and muse to you now. I will come for you. Please be patient. There is so much at stake.
The Fates fashioned you for me,
Gàire
The ink glowed in the same dark green of Gaire’s eyes, rippled in places by now-dried droplets. Calder lifted the paper to his face once more and kissed the swirling signature. “The Fates fashioned me yours,” he repeated.
Falling in Deep Collection Box Set Page 94
