Aquaphobe

By LoweFantasy

A Scientist and His Fish promotional oneshot

Author's Intro/Gift:

Since it's lame to give you all an announcement without a story update, I offer you this little oneshot of how Mai the Mermaid's parents met!

Why the announcement? Today I release the first book in a series of inexpensive Kindle books that I've started to help put food on the table LITERALLY, as in I'm having a hard time paying for food and the basics. If you can, please drop by and pick up a copy of it.

It's titled "Wendy" and you can find it on Amazon under the pen name T.S. Lowe. I've put a synopsis at the end of this chapter.

Now I'll get out of your way...

18 Years Ago

Her father had meant it as a way for them to bond and had planned it all before she had even gotten there. He hadn't bothered to mention it either, as he thought it a fun surprise.

She felt no sympathy whatsoever in telling him, point blank, that she thought sailing along the coast of the Mediterranean was a horrible idea. Why? Because she had aquaphobia. Lived her whole life smack dab in the middle of the desert quite happily, thank you.

His face had fallen. But he picked up his earlier exuberance quickly enough by saying it was an excellent opportunity to get over that phobia. He said he had read somewhere that phobias were fed by avoidance, and the only way to get over them was through exposure.

To say that set them off at a rocky start was an understatement.

Course, if she had been with her mom, she would have just thrown up a huge stink. The moment she tried to pick a proper fight with her sire, on the other hand, she found him not only irritatingly cool and bubbly, but a giant, squishy cloud of conflict avoidance. He just didn't fight, even if it meant not saying anything. He did what he liked no matter what anyone else thought.

Why he hadn't been a part of her life from the start suddenly made sense.

And since his much beloved sailboat happened to be for a, well, for a mostly single man who probably had a spray of forgotten children about the States, there was hardly any room for Marie to have a proper sulk without him trying to start a conversation with her. Freaking chatterbox couldn't shut up, and it wasn't like he was easy to talk to either. He'd take whatever you gave him and spin it in to whatever he was interested in hearing himself prattle on about.

Thus, she found herself at the back of the boat late one night, her arms and legs hanging over and through the railing, despite her mind-numbing fear of the deep. It was the darkness that made it bearable, along with her unspent displeasure at her situation.

She hated water. She hated boats. And now she hated her father.

"'Course Mama dear won't do anything about it," she seethed at the black water, imagining she mocked its attempts to reach her feet and suck her down to the bottom. "She'll just wrap it up to me being some angsty teenager, but I don't see some sixty year old doing any better surrounded by everything they hate and fear, you know why? Because when you're sixty, you do whatever you damn please."

An extra special wave decided to pop up then and smacked the bottom of her foot. She scrabbled back, heart pounding, already knotted stomach curling up to her throat.

It took her five minutes of telling herself to relax and go to her happy place before she could breathe normally. And it infuriated her even more.

"Look at me!" she hissed to the night sky. "Panicking because it licks my foot, maybe this trip would be good for me. Freaking pansy!"

And since rage seemed to be making a nice little masochist out of her, she very proudly scouted her butt back to the railing, though she didn't hang her feet out this time.

"Okay, I need to calm down or, knowing my luck, I'll probably barf." She closed her eyes and breathed hard through her nose. "Come on. Be mature. At least enough to sleep."

Ugh. Sleep. Like she could sleep with all that damn rocking death rolling about her. Even as she closed her gritty eyes she could feel the last two days burning through her eyelids like the sun.

Hate hate hate hate HAAAATE! SO much broiling, seething loathing hatred.

And it was making her sick. She knew it. She could feel it in her gut, in her stuffed, wind battered bare legs and arms. She could feel it in the way her thoughts bounced and tumbled into each other.

So she did what she always did to comfort herself.

She sang.

At first it was just nonsense scales and lip buzzes to warm herself. Then she went through the first lines of several songs, tasting the melodies on her tongue until she gradually fell into the one that soothed the most. As she sang, she pushed herself to gradually push out a foot. It was just a little water. The sky was clear, not a storm in sight, so it was calm waters at that.

When another spray of sea nipped the sole of her foot, she clutched hard to the railing and kept singing. If she was lucky, her father would stay inside the cabin and not come out to sing himself.

Halfway through the second song, in the brief pause between verses, a voice spoke out from the darkness.

"Hello."

She yipped and almost rolled back into the cabin windows as she let go of the railing.

That was not her father's voice.

"Wait! Don't be afraid, I just wanted to ask something."

"Oh, like I have a choice on whether to be afraid or not." But it did sound human enough. Not like a ghost or something that wanted to eat her. It actually kind of had an accent, a rather pleasant one, with buzzing 'r's. Nonetheless, she found something else on the boat to hold onto rather than the railing.

"Will you come back? I don't want to wake up anyone. There's more than one of you up there, right?" A he. Definitely a he.

She squinted out into the darkness. "Where are you?"

"Down here. In the water."

Oh lord, the ocean was talking back now. "T-that isn't reassuring."

"Then, um, would you mind, if you can, if you like, share some food? I…I haven't been, um…"

Wait, she'd heard these stories before, right? Random voice from the darkness asks for food. You give them food and then they grant you wishes or come bail you out when you're about to be screwed over? Or, wait, did they become feral monsters that multiplied with water? Wait, those were Gremlins. Gremlins couldn't be in the ocean.

Just a little more curious now than scared, she said, "If I get you food, you won't sink our boat or anything, okay?"

"Goodness, why would I do that?"

…Who said goodness anymore? Besides grandmas, that is.

"Give me a minute."

Back in the cabin her father was where she had left him: curled up around his laptop near the front, where the curved bench of the boat made a little couch.

"Is it alright if I have dinner now?" she asked.

"Not at all," he said. "Good to hear your feeling better."

"Is it okay if I eat it outside?"

He took a drink of his tea and gestured towards the door to show she was welcome to it.

Back up on deck, she eased tentively towards the rail, her little Tupperware of Tuna Helper in hand.

"I got food?" she said, more quietly than before.

"Thank you!" cried the voice.

She snapped her head to the right, squinting out into what little of the ocean she could see from the gaslight inside and the stars above. Something made its way towards her. As the boat dipped down, a very human shoulder and arm reached up through a patch of light to the Tupperware. The boat eased up and the arm and shoulder fell out of sight. She thought she could make out the outline of a head and another shoulder as well.

A weird thought popped up in the back of her mind. That would be funny if it were true.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Just some Tuna Helper. You know, fish, noodles, creamy stuff. Want me to get you a fork?"

"Um…" A pop of the Tupperware opening. "Oh, got it. Oh, uh, no fork. I can handle this. It smells really good, thank you."

"You're welcome? Hey, uh, how did you get out here? Is your boat near here or something?"

"Give me a moment."

She heard no slurping sounds over the constant hush of the ocean, but she assumed he wanted to eat something first, so she looked about the horizon as she waited. She rarely looked at it, as it reminded her just how far the water went all around her. The first time she had seen it, she'd vomited right then and there. But, in the night, as it was with the waves, it was easier, probably because she could imagine whatever she wanted just hidden beyond the darkness. She could even pretend the water was a mirror when the stars came out all bright like this.

But that's all she saw. Stars. No lights from any other boats. And to have the first thing he asked of her be food…

"Here's your container back." The figure moved closer to the light and held up the Tupperware to her.

As she reached down to retrieve it, the boat rocked down towards her, pushing the light from the cabin past his shoulder to the rest of him. He had coppery hair without a trace of freckles on pale, moonlight like skin (she'd never met a redhead before that didn't have freckles), and a nice, soft, open face, the kind Hollywood always used when they needed an actor who could play a part younger than them.

And his arm had a fin on it.

The Tupperware fell.

"Whoops. Sorry." He caught it on a ride away wave and lifted it up to her again, this time with a smile just as soft as his boyish features.

Her hand caught it, but nearly dropped it again. "Are you a merman?"

He blanched, and the waves took the boat's light away.

For a brief moment, she feared she had scared him away with her trademark bluntness. But as the boat rocked back and the light came back down to the water on her side, he was still there, though a bit further away than before. Even so, she could still see the trepidation in his wide, dark eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, wondering if the casual laugh she had tried to put into the words sounded more hysterical than comforting.

"Don't tell him," he said, and she nearly didn't hear him beneath the waves.

"Come back, I can't hear you."

"Please don't tell him," he repeated, coming closer as she asked, fading into darkness and back into sight again with the jumping of the light. "The other one on your boat."

She managed a snort. "I'd be more afraid of him talking you to death than doing you any actual harm. What, are you afraid we'll harpoon you and post you up for National Geographic?"

Rather than make him smile, as she hoped, his eyes only widened further and his mouth dropped.

"You do that now?!" His voice had jumped an octave.

"Oh my god, it was a joke! Nobody does that, mermaids don't exist. At least…" she squinted as he dropped into shadow again. "This is a dream, huh?"

"Let's go with that," he said, and when the light came down again, she was glad to see he looked relieved. "So, if I did exist, what would you say?"

"What the crap are you doing here? I mean, by my boat, in the middle of the night. Though I guess that wouldn't really matter in a dream."

"I wouldn't think so. Dreams rarely care about logic and would probably tell you something silly."

"Like that you're from Atlantis—are you from Atlantis?"

He gave a noise she didn't recognize, but thought could be a snort as his next words were, "Please, that's a month's swim away. No, I'm from, well…that's a secret."

She smiled. "You go saying that I'll just get interested."

"Then I'll ask a question." He hesitated. "Do…do many humans sing like you?"

She felt a little warmth on the back of her neck. "Oh, so you heard that? Did it serenade to you many foody thoughts?"

The light came down on his wry smile. "Most of our kind have the ability to sing, and quite effectively. I heard some humans could, but not very well. You didn't sound much different from the, uh, some of the women back home."

The warmth spread, but she found herself smiling stupidly. "Is that a compliment, Mr. Merman?"

"You still haven't answered my question. And it's Roan."

She stopped, surprised. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing, that's just a really normal name for a merman. I thought it would be more like, I don't know," she made a sad attempt at a dolphin's cackle.

He exploded into loud, barking laughter. It bounced back to her off the cabin walls.

It stopped abruptly when the door to the cabin clacked open.

"Marie? Was that you?"

She tried to look nonchalant on the railing, even as she suddenly noted how wet her feet had become. How had she not notice?

"Who else could it be?"

He blinked at her for a minute. Then shrugged.

"Guess I haven't heard you laugh before," he said, more than a little awkward. Probably didn't want to mention that it had sounded awfully like a man's laughter. "If you're going to hang out here much longer, could you wear a life jacket? I thought you were afraid of the water."

"Exposure therapy, Dad. I live life on the edge." But since he was actually holding one outside the door, she sighed, and got up enough to snatch it from his hand. "Thanks."

"No problem. I've got a fun movie on my laptop, wanna watch it with me?"

"Maybe." And just in case he heard anything else funny, or already had. "Me and the ocean are having a heart to heart."

He did look pleased at that. He even gave her a really wide, toothy smile that almost made her feel guilty for lying…almost.

The moment he turned his head away to head back stairs, she snapped her attention back to the water. When the light showed nothing but black, empty waves, she wilted and pulled her wet feet back into the safe dryness of the boat.

"You're afraid of the water?"

Her heart nearly crashed its way into her cranium with joy. "You're still here!" She moved to snap on her life jacket.

"Course. I don't exist, right? And you haven't answered my question, I'm really curious."

"The singing thing?"

"Yes."

She happily stuck her feet out once more and barely shivered at the brush of sea spray. "I don't know what you would count as 'many.' I'm in the top choir at my school, if that means anything."

"Top choir? Does that mean you're good?"

"The best in my school."

"How many are in your school?"

The heat had returned and moved up to her ears. "Funny things you're curious about. I guess there's about three thousand or so. It's kind of big."

The light came down, but she barely caught sight of him to her right, hiding more near the boat, yet—a little shock went up her spine—closer to her. Nearly in touching distance of her leg, even.

Would he pull her in?

"So I guess not many, then, if you're the top out of three thousand."

"Not everyone sings, nor sings well, no, I guess. Rather unfair of you to make me sound like I'm bragging like that, though."

"I beg your pardon."

She chuckled. "Mermen talk so old world."

"Is that bad?"

Now that she knew where he was, she could see his eyes glittering up at her in the dark. A cold sweat prickled up under her arms and along her brow.

"No."

A pause passed through them, the longest one yet. The thought passed through her mind that she was like her father after all. Probably way too chatty.

She pulled her legs in.

The glittering eyes shifted as his head cocked to the side. "What's wrong?"

Her mouth had gone a little dry. "You're…I just…could you go back a little bit?"

"Did I do something to scare you?" he said, but he did back off a bit, even back into where the light could touch him. His head tilted again, this time in thought. "Is it because you are afraid of the water?"

She tried to smile sheepishly, but couldn't help but be aware of the fact that she hadn't really eaten all day and her twisted stomach hadn't exactly thanked her for it. "More like terrified."

There was an ocean filled silence that she thought could be stunned. After all, it would be like a merman telling her he was terrified of air—if mermen could drown in air, that is. Still, she expected him to ask her why, or even to go on to explain, as her mom among many others over her life had done, that she really didn't have to be so afraid, or even that being afraid was worse than not knowing how to swim.

But when she saw his face again, it was soft. Sympathetic, even.

"Smart fear," he said. "I'm sorry your father has brought you out here."

That made her stare.

At her surprise, he moved just a little bit closer again. "There are many dangers in the ocean, even for someone like me who cannot drown. I can't imagine what dangers there would be for someone who could."

She hugged her head to the top of the railing and almost whispered, "What kind of dangers?"

"Well, out here in open water, the murky depths could be hiding anything," he said. "Sharks, I believe you call them. Big thing, rows of teeth, big, big mouth. It's hunting tactic is to stay low enough that its dark back is disguised in the depths. Then, it shoots up—" he popped his hand out of the water, and Marie got another glance of the long fin on his forearm. "Right into its prey. So fast, you have no warning."

She shivered with delightful horror, suddenly that much fonder of the safety of her boat.

Seemingly pleased by her reaction, he went on to describe mighty volcanic eruptions that could shoot plumes of boiling water from the hidden deep, poisonous fish that hid themselves in coral reefs, crowded curtains of stinging jellies, poisonous gas that would drown a merman before he realized he was in danger, raging typhoons that could suck entire dolphins into the sky, and many other creatures and things he hadn't the human name for, but which he did his best to describe anyways.

When the lights switched off in the cabin behind her, plunging them into darkness, she could just make out the thinnest line of gray on the horizon. She stifled the millionth yawn of the day and found herself closing her eyes against the railing.

"But I've killed a shark before," she heard in the darkness. "Many shark. I wouldn't let any hurt you. I would keep you out of waters with jellies, and far from the coral reefs. Somewhere with white, shallow waters like glass so nothing can sneak on you. Somewhere on a bright day, no clouds, just warm sun. You could walk on the sand, and if you had to swim, even for a moment, I will swim for you."

"That sounds really nice," she murmured. She thought she could feel the ocean waves on her feet now. They were cold, but the water was surprisingly warm.

"And it would be warm, not like out here."

She hummed at the thought. Her old friend the sun was shining down on her, warming her feet quite nicely. So nice. Warm feet.

Then, strangely, the toes on one of her feet got cold, and she felt something soft and warm flutter across them.

"Marie."

And when she woke up, the sun had risen high and bright in the sky, just like her dreams. She turned to wonder why she had fallen asleep on deck and why the ocean being the first thing she saw didn't send her over the edge into panic mode, even when she could see through the blue of the waves to something of the depths.

But she already knew what was in them.

"Wendy" synopsis:

Wendy knows she tends to be a mother hen to her friends. But if she doesn't, who will? Her boys are lost from their parents in more ways then one, especially the mysterious Kolya, who awkwardly befriended them after fleeing the Russian mafia. She almost wishes he hadn't when she finds herself on the end of what must be a one-sided love. After all, why would the cool, handsome, aloof Kolya have any interest in a nagging she-man like her?

But when Kolya's past catches up with them, getting rid of an unwanted crush will be the last thing on Wendy's mind.

You get a book and I get milk. You don't get me milk, and you still get an extra chapter of your favorite story.