Take me to the Deepest Blue

“So you have a pet shark.”

Still panting from the physical exertion and adrenaline of the dive, those were his first words when they surfaced. The beach was still quiet, with no one in sight. He removed his diving mask, and Narya tried to smooth her hair, tangled by the swim. By the time he turned around, she was already in her dress, standing on her two legs. It baffled him to think that, a few minutes before, he had been in the middle of the ocean with the same girl—in her true mermaid form.

“Grey is, more of a . . . friend.” She settled on that word like it was an afterthought.

“But—it—you . . . well, I guess you’re both . . .” He wanted to say fish, but he wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate term.

He found himself unable to form a coherent sentence, and this had become more common since meeting her. He constantly felt under her spell, and now, with this last surprise, he was no longer able to think straight when with her.

“We’re what?” She cocked her head sideways, oblivious to what he was trying to say.

“Nothing, let’s head back. I think you need to change before you catch something from the cold.”

“But I’m never cold.” She caught up to him, her wet dress clinging seductively to her body.

“Oh, right. Never mind.” He looked elsewhere and directed his focus on something other than the bewitching girl who remained unaware of her intoxicating charms.

After convincing Narya to change into dry clothes—a T-shirt that Louise had left at his place, and an old pair of boxers dotted with yellow submarines—he sat her down with a cup of warm chamomile tea and settled in across from her with a notepad and a pen. He tried to lighten up the mood by putting on John Coltrane as background music. She was curled up on the couch with a blanket over her—at his insistence—and happily sipping her tea.

He cleared his throat, and contemplated on how to best begin his well-earned interview. How does one go about researching mermaids?

“You have three questions.” She had read his mind.

He dismissed all the trivial questions that went through his head and tried to formulate a proper, worthy question to ask her.

“Yes, I know.” He wanted to know everything about her, down to the last detail of her scales. He would finally unlock the mystery that surrounded her like a fog. The same tinge of excitement that had thrilled him during his first year of the program overcame him.

“Make sure you ask the right ones.” She looked up from her cup, silently challenging him to try.

He resisted returning her beguiling smile. He needed to maintain authority when conducting research, despite having a research specimen that talked back at him.

He chewed at the other end of his pen as he tried to make out his own messy writing—random scribblings while he had contemplated how to make the best use of a rare opportunity.

“So . . . is there like a group of you? Of mermaids?”

“I think the right word would be merpeople. There are men, too, you know.” She nibbled on a cookie and talked through the crumbs in her mouth.

“Can you give me a number?” He found himself unable to set aside the fact that he was talking to a mermaid who was drinking tea and obviously enjoying a chocolate cookie.

“A number? You mean how many of us are there?” She looked up from her plate, but he couldn’t read her expression. Maybe she was about to share an ancient secret. Or maybe she shouldn’t but was excited to do so.

“Yes,” he said. “An estimate if you can.”

“Well, I . . . I actually don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” He took a sip of his coffee. He could never drink tea. It tasted like weakly-flavored water. Coffee awoke his senses, and he needed to be fully focused while speaking to a mermaid about to confide underwater mysteries.

“I mean. I know how many are in our grid. Our ocean grid—you know, where we live.” She grabbed another cookie from the box and took a big bite. “But there are mermaids I’ve never met in other areas. I guess wherever there is water and marine life, you can find them. Us.” She tacked on the last word and turned red, embarrassed by having momentarily forgotten where she belonged.

“I see. And how big is your grid?”

“Is that a second question?” A few crumbs fell from her mouth, and he found her all the more captivating, but he had to maintain his composure. He tried not to smile and looked down at his notepad.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” he said. “This is technically the same subject.”

“But we agreed on questions and not subjects.” She was getting cheeky and flashed him a knowing grin.

“Fine—since you’re so good with words, let’s scratch that last one. How do you communicate?” This was of special interest to him. Not much of a linguist himself, he was still intrigued by foreign languages, and this one had to be the most foreign of all.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you talk underwater like we’re talking now?”

They sat across from each other, separated by a short wooden bookshelf that doubled as a coffee table.

“We don’t really . . . talk. I mean, we can speak, obviously, and we all instinctively know the language of the grid we’re in. But we . . . read each other underwater.”

“Like some kind of telepathy?”

“What is that?”

“It’s not real—at least to humans. I guess it’s really just science fiction. It’s a communication between minds, but without sensory channels or physical interaction.” He didn’t want to sound crazy. Like Pete. God, what would Pete say if he knew that Narya turned out to be much more than just his prized shark whisperer?

“Like you can read each other’s minds,” she said, watching him closely. “Like that?”

“Like what?” He scratched the stubble on his chin and moved closer to her. This interrogation was proving more difficult than he had anticipated.

“Did you read my mind?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“I’m not a merman.”

“Well, it only works underwater anyway. Keames didn’t seem to be able to. He couldn’t read any of my thoughts when I tried.” She stopped in mid-reach for a third cookie, and guilt began to spread across her face as her cheeks reddened.

“Who’s Keames?” Had he met someone who could have been a merman? He searched his mind for someone they might have come across as awkward and uniquely unusual as Narya.

She picked up her mug and sipped her tea, avoiding Nick’s eyes.

Who did she interact with besides Louise, Pete, and him? He retraced the past two weeks until a face came into mind.

“Wait . . . Ken Lauer?” The awkward movie star who rose to fame thanks to his boyish good looks and a swimmer’s body? Swimmer. Oh, shit.

“I don’t think he’ll ever go back to being one again.” She didn’t sound sad, but her eyes suggested otherwise.

“So this . . . is flexible?” It had never occurred to him that it might be a conscious choice. Did Narya desire to remain human? Or was she happier in the water? What would she eventually choose, if she had to make a final choice?

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“This change. Or . . . transformation. Can you go back to being a mermaid any time?”

“Well, the theory is . . .”

She had his full attention now. If there was anything he loved more than marine biology, it was theories. She entwined her fingers and struggled to find the right words.

“Every one of us has between seven to nine times to try it out—being human.” Her voice grew slightly louder and more confident. “The Elders of each ocean grid—they’re like leaders with authority—agreed to allow each of us to experience life as a human. Before we come up, we’re given a special kind of seaweed that enables the transitions to take place. Supposedly.”

As she explained the process, it began to sound concocted. For all she knew, it could be regular seaweed harvested from her own backyard. Perhaps the transition was something innate, and like Keames had said, there was no limit. Were they all in the dark? She tried to chase away these doubts. Nick’s eyes were on her, his hands gripped tightly around the notepad he held. She has never seen him as focused and alert.

“It’s to prevent mermaids from venturing out on their own with no support. Most of the time they return and remain a mermaid—usually around the seventh or eighth time. Most of us aren’t brave enough to give up life underwater entirely.” She pulled the blanket tightly around her.

He knew she wasn’t cold; she probably felt apprehensive, or exposed by all the secrets she had divulged. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her.

“But it’s a theory,” he said, enunciating the word.

“Yes.” This was a secret she wasn’t keen on sharing right away. But Nick made her feel safe, and she didn’t see the harm of telling him what’s been perplexing her. “Apparently there’s no limit. According to Keames, who tested it out himself, we get more than nine times.”

“I see,” he said. Watching her from where he sat, listening to her go on about this, he felt like he could relate to the whole mind-blowing revelation.

“I’ve changed back . . . four times now.” She enunciated the number after some pause.

“Theoretically, I have five more, but I can’t be sure—unless Keames is an exception.” She got up and added more hot water to her tea mug. He liked that she knew her way around his place. They had developed a familiar rhythm of living together, and he never thought he’d grow comfortable with a stranger in such a short amount of time.

“Right,” he muttered to himself and thought about the possibilities if she shared Keames’s flexibility. Or if she didn’t. Could he convince her to remain human and stay here with him? He thought about what she had done earlier, what it meant, and what it must have cost her.

“But you’ve used one of your transitions for me.” He wished he had known this transformation was so limited. He never would have let her utilize it so recklessly.

“Yes, well, that was worth it.” She had her back to him so that he couldn’t see her face.

His innate fear of the water hadn’t evaporated into thin air, but he knew the swim today had changed him. It made him feel less guilty, less trapped. She’d given him a taste of what it would be like to live unencumbered by the past. His thoughts inadvertently drifted back to the day of the shipwreck.

“Why did you save me?”

This was the question he had wanted to ask his anonymous savior for years, if ever he did come across her, and if she actually existed. Now that he had found her, he couldn’t help but wonder aloud. More than once he had wished that he’d never survived the incident. That he had remained underwater with Katie and had never surfaced. When he gave voice to this ominous thought to Louise one day, she had chastised him, and he had never brought it up again to her nor to anyone else. When the darkness became too much to bear, he’d curse the person who saved him. Had he not made his choice when he remained by Katie’s side? Who was she—this creature—that she should decide he needed her help? But now, as his rescuer’s identity was unveiled, and he was face to face with the person to whom he owed his life, he was truly grateful to be alive. To be here—with her.

“You want to know why I didn’t leave you there?”

She frowned, a rare expression for her as he had come to realize. He nodded and waited for her to respond. A flash of disappointment came and went in her eyes.

“Do you wish I hadn’t made that choice?”

He already knew what his answer would be.

“No.”

And it was the truth. She made him feel like it was worth it to be here. That a second chance at a shattered life perhaps wasn’t the worst card he was dealt with.

“I’ll give you one extra question. Besides, I think you’ve already asked more than three, anyway.” She sat back down and settled beside him with her legs crossed and the tea in her hand. As she shifted, their elbows touched and as cold as she was, he felt an inexplicable surge of warmth.

“Just like that?” He wanted to hug her, but instead rubbed his chin and contemplated what else he could ask his very forward research subject.

“To reward you for your efforts, I suppose.” Her eyes sparkled and he wondered if she meant his efforts for the questions or at giving life a second chance since Katie.

“How fast . . . can you swim?”

She nodded to herself as though this were a valid question.

“Well, you know the sailfish?”

Only the fastest fish in the ocean. He nodded stoically.

“I’d say triple its speed.”

He ran the numbers in his head. That would be roughly two hundred and ten miles per hour. No wonder she was able to swim her way back to the Bahamas all the way from Vancouver before they arrived by plane. He longed to see this—the image of Narya as a mermaid kept swarming his mind—but he managed to hold back from blurting out such a ridiculous request. It would mean asking her to give up another of her transitions, and he couldn’t ask that after all she’d already done for him.

“Holy shit.” He tried to contain his reaction. If he were alone, he’d have a lot more colorful comments on the discoveries made tonight.

“This is probably why we’re able to stay undiscovered.” She spoke fast, excited to share more about her kind. “There are myths out there, right? But whenever we’ve encountered a human, we’ve always managed to escape in time so any glimpse of us would be too quick for them to identify anything except maybe an image of some kind.”

“We and the other species of . . . fish are able to communicate as well. There’d be warnings about divers or submersibles so that we could avoid a surprise encounter. So this . . .” She eyed him with an expression that wavered between hopeful and guilty, and it made him want to reassure her that her secret was safe. She would always be safe with him.

“This would be unheard of. Me, conversing with you—about us.”

“I understand.” He said softly, not knowing what else he could say to assuage her doubts.

She looked down, blowing gently on her tea before taking another sip and suddenly starting to choke.

“Hey, are you all right?” He took the mug out of her hands and patted her on the back.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine.” She coughed, still struggling to inhale properly.

He blinked fast as he watched her catch her breath. This moment ignited his mind with yet another question. He just hoped that she wasn’t keeping track.

“How do you breathe underwater?”

She shifted in her seat and stretched her legs over the coffee table. “Like a fish. You should know this . . . Aren’t you a marine biologist or something?”

The sarcasm in her voice reminded him of Louise, and he tried hard to suppressed a smile.

“Yes, but we’ve never come across any mermaids. You’re not exactly featured in our recent textbooks.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She accepted his response as a valid point. “We have gills. Right here.” She pointed at her neck and he leaned in to take a closer look.

On the surface of her skin, she had three lines of very faint, faded scars. They were only inches apart, and he could still smell seawater on her, sweet, fruity scented shampoo he bought for her when she first arrived here. He tried not to think about how smooth her skin felt as he glided his fingers over her neck. The scars were bumpy, but almost unnoticeable.

“So when you change back . . . do these open up?” He almost regretted asking the question, but she nodded and reassured him again that he was neither delirious nor crazy.

“It all comes with the transition.”

They stayed still, inches from each other, and he resisted planting his lips on hers. Work has to come first.

“Do you think we can test it out? I’d like to see how it works.”

“I would have to be in the water, though. At least part of my neck does.” Narya said breezily.

“Wait, but wouldn’t that mean you’d lose another transition?”

She’s saved his life once—and technically, revived him for a second time since he had found her on the beach. Asking her to do this—lose another transition—was taking a part of her away for the sake of his own curiosity.

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve spilled seawater on my legs and feet before and it was just for a few seconds. I don’t think that counted as a transition.”

“Are you sure you’d be okay with this?” Part of him wanted to discard the idea, but to see her in her mermaid form again was too enticing an offer to turn down. He could only blame his selfish human nature.

“It can’t be for too long. But I think I can manage to just put my head and neck underwater long enough for the gills to appear.”

“Well I got a bathtub.” He stood up, unable to tolerate their proximity any longer. Her smell was intoxicating, and he was fighting hard to stay focused, not having his thoughts derailed by other things.

“But it has to be seawater,” she added.

He pondered this for a moment, his hand supporting his chin as he crafted a plan to make this research possible.

“It’s too dark out there to really see anything.” He glanced at his watch. “And I think the surfers will be around at this time.”

“We can bring the water back here,” she replied.

The version of Narya he was getting to know was bolder than the one he had been getting used to. He wanted to refuse her, but the research itch was too strong for him to ignore it.

“Right. We’ll need to find some big containers.” He signaled for her to follow him.

This day had turned out to be more than just a regular shark tagging adventure. And this girl—this mermaid—was turning out to be the most precious secret he’d ever kept, and one that he was intent on keeping, no matter the cost.

It took them a few trips back and forth between the apartment and the beach to fill his bathtub. As Nick carried the last bucket of water up the stairs, he was already huffing and panting. The bathroom was exceptionally bright with all the lights on. He had brought in two desk lights in order to maximize the brightness so that he could get a clear look at her. He kneeled by the bathtub and poured the seawater in while Narya sat on the sink counter, dangling her legs and watching him prepare his makeshift lab.

“Alright, let me just go grab my notebook.”

As Nick turned abruptly, he slipped on a small puddle by the door and he tumbled backwards, his arm accidentally pushed Narya as he fell to the ground.

When he heard a splash of water, it was already too late. She lay in the seawater that filled the tub to the rim. Half of her face was hidden by her disheveled hair, and she was on her stomach, her glittering tail protruding out of the water at the other end of the tub.

“Sorry. I don’t think this is salvageable.” Narya slid the boxer shorts off, already torn at the seams during her quick transition. “And I guess I don’t need this anymore.” She removed the wet t-shirt as well and passed them to Nick, who remained speechless as he gawked at her.

He took in her every detail: the quietness in her light grey eyes, her toned shoulders and arms damp and shining with water, and the shimmery scales covering her chest that shone like a constellation, dotting the intricate map of her upper body. Their colors were a mixture of dark purple, lilac, and segments of silver and gold. Her stomach was bare, and he saw that the scales began again below her navel, covering the rest of her lower body. Those on her violet tail appeared to be thicker and darker in color, with a mix of light green and gold. He stood by the sink area with his hungry eyes.

“You wanted to see my gills?”

He redirected his gaze to her face and was reminded of his objective.

“Right.” He took few cautious steps forward and kneeled down beside the bathtub.

She changed position and sat up straight so that her upper body was fully exposed. The gills were visible, and she breathed deeply in and out. Like a fish. Awestruck by it all, he was unable to do much but gawk at her—a mermaid in his bathtub.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?”

It occurred to him a second later that she was serious. She appeared to be unsure, and almost sad in a way, and that compelled him to move closer. If only she knew that she was now key to his very own survival—he could never distance himself from her, ever. He stretched out his hand and laid his fingers gently on her gills, feeling their faint, fluttery movements under the palm of his hand. It was a strange sensation, and though he wasn’t looking at her, he knew she was watching him. Neither of them spoke; they remained silent as he sat beside her, his hand softly gliding up and down her neck.

A sudden knock on the door shook him from his daze. Narya was equally startled, and he gestured for her to remain quiet as he headed for the door.

“Who is it?” There was no answer, but another knock followed. Cautiously, he opened the door and recognized the hair before seeing a face.

“Oh, hi.”

Ken Lauer stood in the doorway in an expensive suit and a head full of blond hair that looked as though it were being blown on cue by the sea breeze.

“Hey, Nick, right? Sorry to intrude, but . . . uh . . .” He craned his neck to get a better look inside, and Nick instinctively stepped out and closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” He tried not to sound too defensive. This was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Merman or not.

“I was guessing—and I hope I’m right—that Narya might be here with you.”

“Why are you looking for her?” Irritated by his lingering presence, he could feel himself tensing up. From the corner of his eye, he saw two bodyguards at the bottom of the staircase. He relaxed his fists—using them was probably not the wisest idea.

“Listen, I don’t . . .”

Ken looked like he was getting impatient, but he was trying to be diplomatic. Something that a movie star would be good at—acting.

With a small twitch at the corner of his lips, he flashed a polite smile at Nick.

“I just want to make sure that she’s okay.”

“She’s fine. Really, she is.” He cleared his throat and had the feeling that Ken was slightly threatened by him. He enjoyed the upper hand and intended to play it well.

“I see,” Ken said. He tilted his chin as if cluing into something.

“Why do you have seawater all over you?”

“I went for a swim.” Nick furrowed his brow, taken aback by his question.

Ken leapt forward, grabbed the collar of Nick’s shirt, and sniffed him like a trained dog.

Before Nick had time to react, Ken threw him to one side and ran past him to open the door to his apartment. Nick tried to chase after him, but he was obviously an athlete, and he already had made his way to the threshold between the hallway and the washroom.

“Oh, fuck, fuck! You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ken’s distressed voice echoed in his hallway.

When Nick got to the bathroom, Ken was kneeling beside the tub, his head in his hands while the mermaid wore the guiltiest smile he had ever seen.

“Stop freaking out,” Narya said as she twirled her hair around her fingers.

“Please tell me that he—” Ken blanched as he pointed toward Nick, his finger trembling uncontrollably.

Nick leaned against the door, unsure whether if he should leave the two alone. A fight was about to erupt, and Nick’s first instinct was to stay in case Narya needed protection. Mythical creature or not, she was pretty small in size compared to the towering figure of Ken Lauer.

“Yes, he knows about you, too.” Narya said, her eyes tightly shut. She wished that she might dive underwater and disappear. Unluckily for her, she was stuck in a tub.

“What?” Ken threw his hands up in the air and he exhaled a series of muffled grunts.

It all appeared theatrical to Nick, and he tried not to grin at the sight of Ken Lauer in unscripted distress.

“Listen, it’s fine,” There was very little Narya could do or say to calm the exposed merman down, but she still gave it a shot. “Nick is . . . well, he’s a good friend.”

“A good friend?” Ken repeated mockingly. “Great, so why don’t I just tell all my closest friends in my film circle about how I used to be a merman and harvested seaweed for a living?”

Nick couldn’t help discharging a long-suppressed laugh. Narya shot him a warning look, and he dutifully stifled his laughter.

“Look, he won’t say or do anything, okay?”Ken still had his head in his hands and refused to acknowledge the fact that his true identity was out in the open.

“It’s cool, man,” Nick said, approaching the bathtub. He couldn’t help wondering about the color of Ken’s scales and tried to picture him as a merman.

“Look, I really won’t tell anyone. Your secret dies with me.” Nick drew a half-hearted cross motion across his chest with his fingers.

Ken made an exasperated sound before he got up and grabbed a towel off the shelf in the bathroom. He used it to wipe away the sweat beads forming on his forehead. This was clearly a stressful conversation for the former merman.

“I came here to . . . get you back.” He shook his head as if realizing how wrong he had been.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Narya said, gripping the rim of the bathtub, and Nick detected the determination in her voice.

“And stay here? With these humans? Are you out of your mind?”

“Look, I made my decision. And neither you, nor anyone can change it.” This was a side of her that Nick was only beginning to see.

Ken looked dejected and dipped his fingers into the seawater. He knew this to be true, but was too prideful to admit it. No merman or mermaid can truly be happy on land—that only existed in man-made fairytales. No one should be forced to choose between here and home. He let his arm sink deeper into the tub, feeling the seawater rejuvenating him, triggering a familiar rush throughout his body and sharpening his mind. He felt Narya gently cupping her hands around his and found himself unable to explain his sorrow reflected in her eyes. He had already made his choice to stay. No turning back now.

“You remember what I told you? About the transition?”

“Yes.” Narya stared at him with suppressed hopefulness.

“Don’t test it out. I’m not sure if it works for everyone.”

“Okay.” She was beginning to miss him, knowing now that he was finally going to leave her be.

“And if you ever need me, you call this number.” He handed her a card.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not.” He glanced sideways at Nick. “It’s the others I’m worried about.”

And with that, Keames hurried out the door without looking back. As she sat in the bathtub, she watched her tail sway back and forth in the water, and she felt a pang of nostalgia realizing she had just made her decision to stay—and perhaps to even remain changed for good.

When Nick returned to the bathroom, neither of them spoke while he cleaned the wet floor with towels and a mop. She stayed in the tub, passively soaking up every drop of seawater she could. Nick occasionally turned to steal a glimpse of her. There was no rush for her to get out, and he certainly didn’t mind letting her linger.

A loud knock startled them both. Ken couldn’t have changed his mind that quickly.

“I’ll get it,” Nick said, and ran for the front door. He rarely had visitors, and this was the second intrusion tonight.

“Who is it?”

“Damn it, Nick! I tried calling you but you’re not fucking reachable!”

Nick recognized Pete’s voice instantly and opened the door. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Well, first, you gotta pack your bags. I got this last minute stint in Pemba, and I’m bringing the whole crew with me. I got a pretty generous per diem package. You’re bringing—uh, what’s her name, Natalie?”

Pete’s words were slightly slurred but he didn’t seem that drunk. Nick has seen him in worse states.

“It’s Narya.” He didn’t want to invite him in and remained standing by the threshold, using his body to block most of the entrance.

“Right. Right.” Pete began to leave and then turned around as though he had forgotten something. “I gotta use the washroom. Too much beer.” He was mumbling to himself as he brushed past Nick and stumbled toward the washroom.

“Wait, Pete!” Nick didn’t know if Narya had heard Pete come in, but he also hadn’t closed the washroom door.

He heard Pete let out a loud gasp.

He hurried over, his heart racing as he entered the washroom.

“Nothing—I almost slipped on water. Why the hell is your floor so wet?” Pete didn’t bother closing the door as he unzipped his pants to relieve himself.

“Sorry.” Nick squeezed out an apologetic smile and wondered where Narya had run off to. Just in time. He moved away from the door, his eyes following wet spots leading toward his bedroom. Wondering when Pete would be done, he stood guard and waited.

“Alright, my man,” Pete’s voice said from behind the door. “So the day after tomorrow it is, eh?” He came out of the washroom, one hand zipping up his pants. “Time to start packing!” He slapped Nick forcefully on the back and let himself out.

After ensuring that Pete had made his way down the stairs, Nick locked the door and headed toward his bedroom. Through the wide-open door, he made out Narya’s silhouette on his bed. She lay curled up in the middle of the bed and seemed fast asleep. When he got closer, he saw that she wasn’t wearing any clothes, only her long hair shielding parts of her body. She must have gotten out of the bathtub in a hurry and changed in time to escape into the bedroom. He thought back to the previous times she had transformed into a human, and each transition time had become shorter. He tried to ignore the number of transitions she had left. Was it six? Or five now? Would she ultimately choose to live on land or return to the place where she belonged? With Ken Lauer out of the picture, he became her default guardian, and she was his responsibility now. While the feelings that he had for her grew exponentially stronger by the day, he wondered if he would be able to protect her should anything unimaginable happen. He would just have to try like hell, he nodded to himself.

The area where she lay was damp, and the window was half-opened; he could feel the sea breeze on his face. As he placed a blanket and over her, his fingers came in contact with her cold, bare shoulders, and he was again reminded that she did not feel the same things he did.