Chapter Ten Picnic #3
“I have nothing else to spend it on but you and Zack. I have his presents and some wrapping paper in the lockers if you want to see them,” he says, eyes shining with excitement.
“I bought him a card game, and a dinosaur encyclopedia set, and—” He stops talking when I keep staring at the food.
“I know it’s too much, maybe, but we can put the leftovers in the fridge. ”
“I’m never going to lose weight if I—”
“Lose weight? You look perfectly healthy.”
“Well... I am, I’m not overweight—well, not much, I’m just at the upper range for my height, and it’s not exactly shapely.”
Mercer’s eyes rake over me, and he sits in the sand, then reclines on his side, arm supporting his head. He looks like some sea sultan, lounging in front of his little banquet in the sand. “I adore your shape.”
“You haven’t seen it,” I point out.
“Bathing suits. Bike shorts. They leave little to the imagination, and yet... Oh, I imagine things I could never tell you, or you’d think I was unworthy of you.”
I sit down, knees tucked under me, resting on one hip, then I give up and decide to sprawl on my side, too, food between us, sunset behind us. “Is that so?”
“Mmhmm. My imagination has registered no complaints.”
Well. I reach over and deftly pluck a grape off the stem and pop it in my mouth. “That’s very flattering.”
“And also honest. If you’re worried about a few extra calories, I promise to help you work them off.”
“Oh?” How?
Now it’s my turn to have a slutty imagination, and I confess I’m at a loss to know what to imagine first. Sex hasn’t happened in so long, and up until a few nights ago, I was worried that my libido was somehow taken in the divorce settlement.
“We’ll swim for an hour. That’s excellent exercise.”
“Oh. Swimming, right.”
“Unless you have other kinds of exercise in mind?” Mercer’s voice drips suggestion.
“I might. My imagination is trying to keep up with yours. It’s just missing a little bit of info.” My cheeks flush, and my eyes lock onto the place where Mercer’s torso meets his tentacles. He’s calmly setting out paper plates and disposable cutlery, and I’m looking for his equipment.
Where is his cock? Is it like, hidden? For that matter, where are mermaid parts? Can I ask him that?
I should have looked this up on the internet...
“If you have more questions about my tentacles, I’d be happy to answer them. Or give a practical demonstration,” Mercer purrs.
Yes, purrs.
I take the glass of wine he offers me, careful not to spill it on my dress. “It’s not about tentacles. I don’t think it is anyway. Oh, never mind, I can look it up later.”
“Look what up?” Mercer sits up, looking slightly concerned. “If there’s something you want to know, I wish you’d just ask me.”
“How do... How did Janet and Calder come to be parents? You said humans and krakens are compatible, but I was wondering about the specifics,” I say, keeping my face as composed as possible.
“Oh. Ohhh!” Mercer downs his glass of wine and becomes very interested in the corkscrew. “Well, we are certainly physically compatible. Maybe a little larger than most men.”
“But you have the same sort of equipment?”
“Close enough. More decorative. Ridges. Different colors.” Mercer reaches for an apricot and sends a log of chevre tumbling into the pistachios.
“Sounds beautiful.”
“I always hoped my partner would think so. Kraken females are very similar to human females. I believe the angles are a little different.”
“Nothing patient people couldn’t figure out.”
“Exactly. Um. I’m not... I’m not as hungry as I expected. Would you like quiche, Madelyn? It’s mushroom and spinach.”
“I think I could use a swim first. Before we eat. Isn’t that safer?”
“Probably. You can change in the locker rooms.” Mercer slips off his shirt as he straightens up.
Holy Hercules. The muscles. The shoulders. I stare so hard my eyes cross, and I think I hear my lady bits kicking into overdrive after three years in premature retirement.
“Okay,” I squeak, grab my bag, and bolt.
Madelyn is trying to kill me. She has abandoned her more modest shorts and top for a black one-piece with mesh cut-outs on the side. I can see little lines where her hips meet her belly, and only a thin triangle of fabric separates her most intimate pieces from my gaze. My touch. My tongue.
“I love it,” I say as soon as she is near enough.
“It’s a few years old.”
“Wear it more often. Please.”
Madelyn blushes, and she sparkles when she’s happy. “You actually like it?”
“I’m trying very hard to be the sort of calm, patient person you want,” I grit out, “and this makes it almost impossible.”
“You don’t have to oversell it.”
“Oversell? Ha! How would you like to see the most gorgeous woman in the world wearing almost nothing? Hm? And what if she were the woman you were falling for, too? Temptress.” I take her wrist and haul her along to the water’s edge, tentacles lashing, occasionally smacking into her foot.
“We shouldn’t go out too deep,” Madelyn cautions as she tries to keep up. “My cell phone is in my bag by the picnic. I want to be able to hear it in case they call with an emergency.”
“We don’t need to go out too deep.” I’m glad the beach and lake itself are fairly deserted.
Most people are enjoying some date night activities on a Friday night in the summer.
Some people are playing volleyball in the distance.
Some boats are far out in the lake, looking like toy boats from our vantage point.
“Want to swim to those trees by the edge?” I suggest.
We do, and when we’re in the shadowy recesses where the water is cooler, less warmed by the sun, Madelyn shivers.
I instinctively open my arms and pull her to my side, rubbing her skin. “Is it too cold?”
“No, it’s wonderful. Refreshing. I forgot to say thank you for arranging this.
It’s been a long time since I had time without Zack.
Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but it’s nice.
And I haven’t used my non-mom brain in so long.
I probably don’t know how to have a decent adult conversation anymore,” she chuckles, a grim smile on her lips.
“Yes, you do. Besides, if you want to talk about Zack or plans for the birthday party, I’m in favor of that.
I have off Sunday, so I can come over and help decorate.
I’m surprisingly good at reaching tall places to hang the streamers and balloons.
If you want to go for a more avant-garde style of cake decorating, Zack and I can handle that.
Oh, and I never did find out—what in the world is yellow cake actually flavored with? ”
Madelyn has to think for a second. “Vanilla, honestly.”
“Why isn’t it just called vanilla cake then?” Humans are so perplexing.
“Because it’s yellow.”
“But you don’t call chocolate cake brown cake. The color isn’t the flavor. No one calls strawberry cake pink cake, do they? Wait, do they?”
“Humans are weird, okay?” Madelyn laughs in exasperation, hands flinging out.
Water catches me in the face and makes me splutter as it drips down my nose, and some of the lake ends up in my mouth. I don’t mind that one little bit, but Madelyn gasps like she’s thrown a punch.
“Sorry!” she cries.
I splash back lightly, just a little flick of one tentacle, enough to splash water over her shoulder. “It’s nothing. I’m used to getting wet.”
Madelyn hesitates, then sends another little wave of water at me.
“We lived about three hours from the Jersey Shore.
I have to admit that I wanted out of the big city and into a little town because I hoped being a single mom would be easier in the ‘burbs. When I found out this place had a lake, it was a bonus. Zack loves the water.”
“What does Madelyn love?” I ask, another tentacle aiming water at her. It’s juvenile and relaxed, and probably what both of us need.
“Um. Zack. Biking. Sports movies. Figure skating. Guys who spoil me and my son.”
My eyebrows arch. “Guys? More than one?”
“No, but he seems big enough for two.”
The splashing fight lulls when I raise both hands and four tentacles above the water. “I could be handy enough for three.”
“I love guys who are there, being handy. Helping me out around the house. Helping Zack feel like he has a dad for the first time ever. Making me feel—” Madelyn’s words die off, and her relaxed expression vanishes.
“Making you feel like what?”
“Like myself again. The person I could be. The person who won’t get left.”
“The person who is wanted?” I suggest.
Slowly, shyly, she nods. “Yeah. Like that. So corny, huh?”
“You make me feel like that, too. You and Zack. For the first time in almost forty years of life, and almost a decade alone, I feel like someone wants me around. Needs me, even.”
“I think we do. That’s really scary to admit. I don’t want to rely on someone else.”
“But what if he won’t leave?” I whisper, floating to her, letting my tentacles move slowly through the water, gradually, gently wrapping her up, bringing her to my chest.
“That might be scary, too. What if I don’t know how to live with someone again?”
“You’ll learn. You can do something as hard as raising a child alone—you can do something hard like letting a new person in, if he proves himself.” I cup her face, and my thumbs trace over her round cheeks. “I’m trying.”
“You’re succeeding,” she whispers, and then pulls my mouth to hers.
I’m kissing a monster in the middle of the lake at sunset.
A beautiful, wonderful monster, a kraken who reminds me that I’m a desirable woman and still thinks that it’s cool that I’m a mom.
Beyond cool. Worthwhile. Amazing. I kiss him like this is my last chance at the fantasy, even though I’m worried about getting called out for public indecency or something.
I shouldn’t have worried. Mercer pulls me deeper into the water so that just our heads are above the surface. In the shadows, you can barely see us—but beneath the surface, there’s so much to feel.