Salt and Sunshine

Breaking from the surface of the sea meant sunshine. While water streamed from her skin, sluicing back to the waves she was pulled from, morning sun rays spilled over her too. They were startlingly warm, bright in her eyes. And they ate up the crisp cool of the ocean, wicking away moisture to dry out her skin, her red curls. 

Taking a gasping breath of warm air, she blinked against the harsh sun, water still beading on her lashes and dripping down her cheeks. Even ripped from the waves, the first thing she noticed was the bob and sway of the world around her—it wasn’t still like land. Creaking and the occasional clang of metal sounded out, wood groaning under thudding footsteps. A gull cried somewhere far above in the sky. 

The bed of scales she rested on was slick and slimy, flapping spined fins and gaping mouths digging into her back and shoulders, catching in her hair. Rough rope, turning green with mold and fraying at the knots, chafed against the heels of her palms, her wrists, her elbows when she pushed at it. But worn as it was, there was no breaking the rope. 

Fighting the fear and anger bubbling up in her chest, threatening to boil over, she tried to get a proper look around. There was a vast blue swatch of sky above her, stretching on forever, only interrupted by a brilliant ball of sunlight. Below her, she could only make out silvery grey fish, all flopping and struggling, trying to break free and get back to their home under the waves. But over, down a little, she caught glimpses of metal. Grimy white hull, blood and scales covering the floor, a large tower holding up the net she was caught in. And, two wide hazel eyes staring up at her. 

For a fragile instant, neither of them moved. On the deck, it was a boy, or rather, a lanky teenager with chestnut bedhead and wonder in his eyes. In the net, it was a girl with frizzy curls and eyes blue like the ocean. But, most notably, it was a girl with pink and green scales that lined her eyes, spilled in fine lines down her throat, and sparkled in the sun on her powerful tail. It wasn’t a girl at all; it was a mermaid. 

“Who are you?” he asked, and all she could think was that it was a silly question. Who called for a name, an identity. What, on the other hand, asked whether she was human or beast, creature or cryptid. But he didn’t ask what, so she didn’t say. 

It had been a long time since anyone wanted to know who she was. “Kaia,” she answered, a little hesitant, a little breathless. 

The boy only nodded, messy tufts of hair sticking out everywhere and falling into his eyes with the motion. It was then, she noticed, he had a knife in one hand. “My name’s Levi,” he said, trading introductions like they’d met in passing currents under the sea, like it was normal. A lopsided smile broke out across his lips too, eyes bright in a way that had nothing to do with the sun glittering in them. 

“Leviathan! What’s taking so long?” A gruff voice called from somewhere farther on the boat. Kaia couldn’t see them, couldn’t make out who the voice belonged to. Probably someone in charge. Probably someone who wouldn’t be as welcoming to her as this Levi boy. “Your brother would’ve had that net down yesterday!” The voice came again, louder this time. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Levi placated, raising his voice to be heard over the splash of the waves against the hull, the creak of the boat, the crying gulls, and the distance. Then, spinning on his heels to look up at Kaia again, he gave a smile. They seemed to come easy to him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you down from there,” he said, and padded off somewhere she couldn’t see, behind the tower holding up the net. Then, a handful of tense, waiting moments later, the net started to drop, then released from the tower with a mechanical clunk, fish sent sprawling and skittering across the deck as the net fell open. 

“Every small fry goes back,” the rough, gravelly voice called out again, “I don’t want to see a single fish under the limit, you understand?”

“It was only one time,” Levi said as he came back into view, expression crinkled with a frown and pulled brows. Though, when he met Kaia’s gaze, everything in him brightened again. 

“You’ll help me off this wretched boat?” she asked, voice smooth and cool, enticing, like water lapping at skin. She did have a little siren back in her bloodline, after all. 

Like it was an absent thing, he twirled the knife between his fingers. It was a small blade, but still dangerous, with the wrong intentions. Her heart started to beat a little faster in her chest, nerves fraying. It was starting to get uncomfortably hot, too, all the cooling water dripped and evaporated from her skin. She could feel it drying too far under the unrelenting rays. There wasn’t even a cloud in sight. 

There was a fish flopping, gasping, at Levi’s feet. And before he said a thing, he knelt, measured it against his forearm. Kaia hadn’t noticed it until now, but it looked like he had drawn ticks down the length of his arm in black marker, numbers written after every so many. Then, satisfied, he slid the knife into its gills. In just a handful of moments, the fish stilled, dead eyes glazed and gazing out at nothing. 

“I don’t like to let them suffer,” Levi offered quietly, still looking down at the fish at his feet, the blood trickling out around his shoes. But, it was only a moment before he came to crouch before her. “I don’t want to see you suffer either,” he said, offering a smile. His teeth were just a little crooked, but the remnants of childish roundness clinging to his cheeks and the warm hazel of his eyes made it look more endearing than unsettling. She only hoped she made the right judgement, or that bloody knife might sink right into her throat instead. 

He pocketed the knife. She let out a breath. 

For a moment, he stood, ruffling a hand through his hair, the thinking, the working of his mind written clear on his face. Again, he crouched before her, this time guiding her arms around his neck. And, with quite the struggle, cheeks going pink with exertion, he managed to lift her up with gangly arms, one looped behind her back, the other underneath her tail. On unsteady legs he stumbled to the railing, and Kaia held on with fear and hope both pounding out a rhythm in her pulse.  

Unceremoniously, because it was the only way he could manage to do it, Levi dropped her over the railing. The kiss of crystal blue water on too warm skin was such relief; she couldn’t help the joyous smile that curved at her mouth. Just for a moment, she basked in it, feeling the cool current wash by her, tasting salt, crisp and sharp on her lips. Then, she resurfaced, letting her head bob atop the waves as she glanced back up at the boat. Levi and his messy hair and goofy smile were leaned over the railing, waving at her. “Meet me at the pier tonight, if you can,” he called and pointed out across the sea. 

Kaia turned, red curls floating all around her shoulders, to find the stretch of wood jutting out into the ocean. “I’ll wait for you,” he said while her back was still turned. 

With a glance over her shoulder, she found his gaze again, ocean blue meeting sunny, earthen hazel. “I’ll come,” she said, and without another word, dove beneath the surface. 

—

Night had wicked away the sun’s warmth by the time she reached the pier. Its wooden poles that ran down deep into the sand were stained with algae and littered with barnacles beneath the surface of the sea, crusted with salt above it. There was a grey ladder that stretched down too, at the end of the pier, built of thin metal poles crudely fitted together. That was where Kaia waited, and sure enough, a little while later, Levi’s familiar face popped over the edge of the pier. When he noticed her, he grinned and climbed down the ladder, slipping his legs and arms though so he could sit on one rung, arms hooked over the one above it. 

“So, you’re a mermaid?” he questioned, like it wasn’t already obvious enough. Instead of answering, Kaia just flipped her hair behind her back and asked him to lean down a little. It was with a questioning glance, but he did as he was told, slumping over the metal bars to get lower to the water. Fingers wrapping around a rung, Kaia stretched up to meet him, pressing a kiss to the side of his cheek. Under her lips, his skin still held the day’s warmth, like his golden tan complexion was made of sunshine. 

When she pulled back, his cheeks had gone a little pink, his eyes a little wide, but he was smiling that same easy smile that seemed to permanently pull at his lips. “A mermaid’s kiss is good luck,” Kaia said by way of explanation, turning her gaze out at the night sky. It looked inky black, dotted with silver stars that reflected back on the surface of the sea. Mirrored as it was, it almost gave the impression of swimming through endless stars, the pinpricks of light stretched all the way out on either side of the horizon, sky or sea.  

“Oh, really?” Levi asked behind her, tone warm and curious. 

Kaia smiled, easy like him. “Really.”