Chapter Twenty
Twenty
Seeing that Bàba had made it home before her, Angie froze momentarily. He had been staying late at the docks, and by the time he got home in the past few days, she had been asleep.
A smile spread across her face, and she wanted to spend some time with him this evening.
He sat at the dining table, with a hardcover military thriller and his rimless reading glasses poised over the bridge of his nose, and she recalled the Lisinopril and Ambien in his room.
He didn’t notice her right away, and she left her boots at the door, sliding her feet into her pink velvet house slippers. “Bàba.”
He turned his head a fraction. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You got home early today. Except for work, I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”
“Grace and I are splitting the time since Everett quit.” He referred to his junior managers. “She was able to take his entire shift today, but I’ll have a lot more late nights and early mornings coming up.”
“Let me know if I can help at all.” Angie moved to sit beside him.
Stretching his legs, he sat back in his chair. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Is that a new book?” She leaned forward with her elbows on the table and crossed her legs.
“Yes, the latest in this series I’m reading.”
The question she had been wanting to ask burst forth. “I went to look for painkillers in your room, and saw that you had blood pressure meds and sleeping pills.”
Bàba blinked and put the book down. “I’m not sleeping well. Speaking of which, can you bring it to me? If you’re going into the kitchen.” Quiet and reserved, the Bàba she always knew.
“Sure.” She stopped halfway to the kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back on your meds?”
Bàba jolted as though he’d just been electrified. “It has been a lot.”
“I understand. I just wish you–”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about the docks. The war. The mer.” His sharp tone cut her off, and he turned away, effectively closing himself off.
Angie’s head lowered as she entered the kitchen. From the overhead cabinet, she swiped her bottle of multivitamins and Bàba’s sleeping pills.
She swallowed two vitamins and then gave Bàba his medication. The pills sat on the table in front of him, but he didn’t touch them. Angie breathed in the scent of earth and tobacco, and her heart jumped. They came from the cigars he favored when he was younger.
Māma hated his smoking and the woody, mossy aroma, so he finally kicked the habit to keep her happy a decade ago.
Angie didn’t blame him for smoking again. After all, she wanted a drink each time she worked late or fretted over the odd feelings she was developing for Kaden.
Speaking of Kaden. Were they becoming friendly? And what did that mean for them, and for this war they waged?
She would deal with her emotions instead of burying them under a drunken stupor, even if the latter would be easier.
Bàba scratched his stubbly chin. “We also found two of our men and women, drowned and speared. Their dead bodies were thrown back to the coastline.” His voice pitch dropped, somber and low. With a listless swipe, he closed his book without bothering to mark the page he read.
Angie’s upper lip curled in disgust, reminded of what Kaden said, that the mer would not attack unless the humans did first. The temporary peace was short-lived. “Wait. Were there more mer killed? Before that?”
Bàba sat his book down. “Yes, Nick told me that he and a small group caught another merman, who he said tried to attack them. So, they shot him.”
Angie bristled. Unable to stomach anymore talk of dead mer or workers, she put a hand on Bàba’s forearm. “Want to get a little fresh air?”
“Mmm, why not.” Swallowing his pills, Bàba stood, chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. Angie winced at the grating noise. Now she knew he was discombobulated. He wouldn’t be caught dead scratching their hardwood floors.
She followed him to brew tea, a cup of strong pu’er for him, and hot, white tea with a dash of fresh honey and a sprig of mint for her.
“If you’re trying to sleep, that won’t help.” One of Angie’s eyebrows moved into a high arch, and she pushed the porch door open.
“It’s either this or bourbon. I’ll wake up in a better place if I drink this,” he replied, voice gruff.
They sat side by side on rocking chairs, facing the beach and watching the sun cast a golden halo over scattered foam-capped peaks. Since she first became entranced by the sea, the view from the porch was Angie’s favorite part of the house.
During her childhood, she and her family would gather on the spacious porch after dinner for conversation and games or movie nights during warmer months.
A pang of nostalgia struck of how their gatherings used to be, and a sense of closeness to her Bàba overtook her, knowing she only had a month left in Creston before she returned to the lower forty-eight for school.
At the corner of her eye, Bàba rolled a Cohiba cigar between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it like it held the answer to ending this war, as if contemplating whether or not to light it. He stuffed it back into his pocket.
Angie sighed with relief. Bàba certainly didn’t need more detriments to his health with all the stress at the docks and with the war.
She crossed her legs and sipped her tea, subtle apple notes and sweet honey rolling smoothly down her esophagus, followed by the aftertaste of cool mint.
Beside her, Bàba quietly sipped his own tea.
“Emily and Beau asked to meet me on Friday. They’re coming to the docks. Said they wanted to talk about the mer.” His voice cut through the silence a moment later.
A thought rolled through Angie’s mind. Today was Tuesday, and to her knowledge, the mayor never stopped by on such short notice, except when their son was found dead.
Then again, there were no rules in war.
“Can I come to the meeting, too? I’d like to hear some updates for myself.”
Bàba nodded. “Sure. They will be there around zero eight hundred.” He rocked his chair back and forth, creaking against the boards. “Are you ready for your PhD program? You worked hard to get here.”
“I hope so,” Angie murmured. “Haven’t had much time to research, there’s been too much going on. I guess I’ll have to go on the first day of class and wing it.”
A long silence followed. Where Angie normally found such silences awkward, now it felt natural and relaxing.
“I will miss you when you go. I hope this situation with the mer will be resolved by then. If there is something I can do to end this without any more deaths, I will. For your sake.”
“Thanks, Bàba. That means a lot.” A smile pressed against her cheeks. At eleven thirty p.m., the sun was fading, leaving a sky full of deep violet streaks against a navy-blue backdrop, the hazy glow of the leftover sun slipping through cracks in the dark colors.
Bàba’s next words chilled her. “Even if I have to make sure every last one of them is dead.”
Biting her lip, Angie stared into the horizon.
The remainder of the sun vanished, violet and blue blending into obsidian night.
Glittery stars filled the sky, clouds parting to unveil the silver moon.
Flowing water and frog and insect sounds surrounded them, their soft breathing chiming in harmony with the biophonic chorus.
The air had become a lot colder.
Kaden met her as planned. His tigerseye-hued gaze was fixed on her. “You’re looking refreshed today.”
“I feel better. Finally got a good nights’ sleep, but I still feel like I could sleep an entire day.” Or, more apt, she could hibernate like a dormant squirrel or bear in the brutal winters.
Kaden straightened up, his tail flexing. “How about a change of scenery? Here.” He pointed to an empty rowboat some feet away from them. Angie had seen it when she passed by to meet Kaden earlier, but she hadn’t paid it much attention.
“Here, what? The rowboat? Where did that come from?”
“It appeared abandoned on a nearby island. Nobody seemed to have claimed it for tidesdays, so I guided it here.”
“Convenient.” Angie scrunched her face.
“I thought so, too. The place I have in mind is some miles from here. You can use that. By swimming under you, I’ll use the waves to propel you in the right direction.” He gave her a self-satisfied grin.
“Aww.” Angie gave him a mock-pout. “No more merman-back rides?”
Kaden stared at her. “What? No! I was exhausted after the first time.” He leaned onto his forearms, his lower body still underwater.
“Not used to giving people aquatic piggyback rides?” Angie quirked an eyebrow.
“Well, typically, the most that mer carry while swimming are their children. And parents carry their babies at their fronts up until they’re about a year old, so we’re not built to carry anything more than about thirty pounds for long distances.
Especially not on our backs.” Kaden motioned for Angie to get in the boat, and heart thumping from not knowing what to expect, she took her chance and boarded.
He pulled the boat into the water before ducking under it.
From beneath her, she caught glimpses of his form.
Sunlight winked off each scale on his tail, a brilliant crimson lightshow.
The beach disappeared behind her. His grace and agility in the water was a marvel to her, the smooth way he cut sideways, under and over to avoid rocks and buoys.
Minutes later, a mass came into her field of vision. Sheet ice, floating innocently on top of the water. Her boat was moving too fast, and she was going to crash, while Kaden could just duck underneath it.
He probably didn’t even see the ice. The boat’s nose was inches away, and they were showing no sign of slowing.
Tāmāde!
Instinctively, she climbed overboard and threw herself into the icy seas with a yelp. Everything below her neck numbed in an instant, and her teeth chattered.