The Fate of the Muse

chapter THREE

ANGER





“It’s a bitchin’ gallery, and Susan’s a really cool lady. She’s totally into your paintings,” said Bill as he handed me the business card. I’d stopped by his coffee shop after school to replace a few paintings that had sold, sitting down for an espresso after refilling his wall with my colorful wave paintings.

“Thanks,” I said, slipping it into my purse, “I’ll be sure to give her a call.”

“She wanted to know if you made any bigger ones. She says she has clients looking for super big art,” he gestured with his arms wide.

“I used work on a larger scale,” I said, thinking about how cramped I was in my tiny bedroom, “But I need to find some studio space first.”

“Really?” He looked surprised, “There’s a loft right above us I’ve been trying to rent… wanna see it?”

“Sure,” I shrugged, following his faded jean jacket and bouncing gray ponytail out the door and down a narrow alley to the back of the old brick building. A wrought iron fire escape stretched up to the second floor where a small “for rent” sign hung in the window. He wasn’t asking much, and I expected even less. The stairs rattled in protest as we climbed them to a small door that turned out to be unlocked.

“Those dang kids!” Bill complained as he entered. “They skipped out on the last month’s rent and left me with a mess to boot!”

I looked around at the huge space in awe. It didn’t look this big from the street. There were blackout drapes on large multi-paned windows that faced west, and when Bill pulled them aside I could see that some of the glass sections were broken out and taped over with cardboard. I looked down to the street below and saw the top of the Range Rover, and the surf shop beyond it. I didn’t even know this place was here.

“What do you think?” he asked hopefully.

There were yellowed newpapers scattered around, interspersed with some ratty looking cushions on the floor. Bags of fast food wrappers and cigarette butts were scattered everywhere, and a chair with broken legs tilted in a corner. I looked up at the towering walls. There were scraps of carpet tacked onto nearly every vertical surface, topped with cardboard egg cartons that created a strange patchwork of texture on the wall.

“What’s all this stuff?” I asked.

“Soundproofing,” Bill said with a grimace, “The neighbors complained about the noise.”

I smiled, “A band, huh?” Someone had stuck a multitude of glow-in-the-dark moons and stars on the high ceiling, and hung a bunch of surfing posters all around. How appropriate, I thought, remembering nighttime surfing with a sharp intake of breath and a stab of longing that surprised me.

“Yeah, surf-punk-ska something,” said Bill, “They were pretty good too… But I guess they just never found their muse.”

I looked at him in alarm, but he’d already moved on to the far end of the room where a half-wall partition blocked a small, grubby looking bathroom from view. I peeked around the corner to see an ancient looking clawfoot tub full of empty beer bottles sitting next to a rust stained pedestal sink. He flipped the faucet on and it ran brown for a few seconds before turning clear.

“At least the plumbing still works,” he said optimistically.

I walked back to the center of the room and stood looking around. The afternoon sun slanted in through the wall of windows, highlighting shafts of dust swirling in the freshly disturbed air. It looked like rays of light shining through murky water.

“It needs a lot of cleaning up,” I was thinking out loud, already envisioning where I’d set up my easel to take advantage of the light.

“Take it ‘as is’ and I’ll give you free rent for the first month…” Bill said enticingly.

“I don’t know…” I wavered.

“All utilities included…” Clearly, he didn’t want to contend with the mess.

I smiled, holding out my hand for a shake, “Deal.”

We picked our way back down the stairs and over to his office where he handed me a set of keys and an envelope of cash from the paintings I’d sold. I pulled the poster I’d made out of my tote bag and asked him if he’d hang it in his window.

“Save Our Local Small Farms,” he read aloud, “Righteous.”

The poster outlined the plans we’d made to hold the rally on Ethan’s five acre plot, on a section lying fallow between crops. Thanks to Abby’s tireless efforts on the phone, we’d gotten considerable support from the community. It had already morphed into a pretty big event, with a couple of local bands slated to perform, and a salmon barbeque courtesy of Dutch and his fishermen friends. Even Lue Khang was encouraged, inspired to make a giant vat of his famous fish soup for the event.

Bill was shocked when I told him the news about the proposed golf course, “What a bummer!” He shook his head in disbelief as he taped the poster up in the window, “We should stage a sit-in at Congressman Hill’s office– it’s just down the street! He’s even in town… I saw him on the news yesterday.”

“A sit in?”

Bill’s eyes grew dreamy with nostalgia, “You know, I did the whole war protest thing back in the day…” he leaned in and winked at me, “And I have the arrest record to prove it!”

I giggled, imagining Bill as an idealistic young hippie, “No thanks, we’re going the legal route, but maybe I should stop by his office and hang one of our posters,” I said caustically, “He should know who’ll be voting him out of office next year!”

“Power to the people!” Bill called out after me as I headed out the door.

I turned back to see him holding up a raised fist and saluted him in return. I skipped from storefront to storefront merrily, received warmly by the various shopkeepers I asked to hang up my poster. A few doors down a side street at the end of the block, I came across an office with a portrait of the despised congressman himself in the window. I decided to stop in and voice my opposition, striding in defiantly. I may not be old enough to vote yet, but I had an opinion.

I entered enemy territory to see a pretty young girl crying behind the reception desk, being soothed by a gray haired woman who looked up at me with pain in her eyes.

“Uhm… excuse me,” I said, uncomfortable at interrupting their private moment.

“I’m sorry miss, but the office is closing early today… Did you have an appointment?”

“No…I was hoping to have a word with the congressman–”

Upon hearing that, the girl began crying in earnest, and the older woman patted her back, speaking over her head to me, “I’m sorry to inform you… but Congressman Hill passed away this morning… we’re all still in shock.”

I froze in my tracks for a moment. Oh my God, I thought. I’d been so angry with him… Almost as angry as Peter had made me. My knees started to wobble and I staggered back a step.

“Goodness gracious!” the woman said, rushing around the desk to take my arm and steer me to a chair. “Put your head down and breathe,” she advised. I exhaled in a ragged gasp, realizing that I’d been holding my breath.

“How?” I managed to choke out.

The crying one wiped her eyes and hiccupped, “His car went off the road on Highway One… He– he went over the cliff.”

“He must have fallen asleep at the wheel,” the older one added.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” I whispered, holding my stomach. I’m not sure how I knew, but I was certain that it was because of me.

“Were you very close?” asked the older woman.

I shook my head, “No… I had no idea… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…” my voice trailed off. I looked up into her concerned eyes. She had no idea that I was the cause of all of their anguish. First Peter, and now the Congressman.

Apparently my anger was lethal.

She spoke gently, “Calm down dear, we only just learned the news… it’s not your fault.”

A terrible feeling of guilt and panic welled up within me. I got up and fled, running out the door and back the way I came. When I finally stopped, I looked up to find myself standing right in front of the surf shop. I took it as a sign.

I knew what I needed to do. I strode in, stone-faced, rushing to purposefully pick out a new wetsuit and a surfboard that was most like my favorite one– the one that had been left behind that fateful day in the little cove. The same two guys were at the counter as before, and they watched me move about the store with slack-jawed stares. I piled my purchases at the cash register, avoiding eye contact in the hopes of avoiding conversation.

“Are you like, Kimo’s girlfriend?” the white haired boy ventured.

I looked up at him with angry eyes, “No,” I said coldly, pulling an envelope out of my purse, “How much?”

The tall one rang up my purchases and they both watched, fascinated, as I paid them from my fat wad of cash. Now they were irritating me. I had to get into the water; I had to find a way to stop my dangerous thoughts.

I hurried home, my mind a tangled swirl of confusion. Shame, anger and fear combined in an ugly stew of negative emotions, and I rushed down to the beach, frantic to get myself back into the water. I needed to taste the salt, feel the purification of the icy sea, wallow in the uncomplicated innocence of the creatures that lived in it.

Avoiding a cluster of afternoon surfers on the far end of the beach, I plunged in and paddled swiftly out past the breaking waves. A familiar relief flooded over me with a new intensity, and a little voice in the back of my mind whispered, “This is where you belong.” I blocked out all other thoughts and called for Lorelei. She exploded out of the water, startling me.

“Marina!” she smiled joyfully, as exuberant as ever, “Where have you been?”

“I– I haven’t been surfing lately,” I replied.

“Why?” she asked, taking hold of my surfboard.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after what happened.”

She looked puzzled, “Why would you think that?”

I watched her swimming happily, wild and unchanged by our ordeal. Why couldn’t I be like that? I remembered how it felt to swim in peace under the vast open ocean. I should have known that she’d be fine. She would stay the same way forever, wild as an animal, carefree and untroubled for all eternity. The magnitude of what my mother had given up came rushing at me all at once.

“Can you take me surfing?” I asked her, my voice cracking with emotion.

She towed me to a remote and uninhabited stretch of coastline as the sun dipped low in the sky. I studied the waves and made the best of them, surfing perilously close to some jagged rocks. My instinctive feel for the water returned, tingling just under my skin like a limb that had been still for too long, coming back to life as blood rushed into it.

The sun sank lower on the horizon, deepening the sky to a dark indigo blue. I sat up on my board, watching the water trembling with golden reflections, tasting the salt when I licked my lips. I couldn’t imagine why I’d waited so long to come back out. My head was cleared of all the fear and doubt I’d been harboring for the past few weeks, and I felt better than I had in a long time.

“I know,” smiled Lorelei, splashing me with water.

I turned my focus back to the waves as the sky grew darker, “Let’s go to the point!” I heard Lorelei say. I looked around to see her glowing under the water. It dawned on me that I had just heard her thoughts, and I sat there stunned for a moment, grappling with what it meant.

Ethan wouldn’t like it, I thought with a start. Ethan! I’d made plans to see him after his last final. He’d be worried, and so would Abby.

Lorelei’s face broke the surface, “Do you have to go already?” she asked.

I nodded, my mind racing as Lorelei towed me back. Now that we could hear each other, I had to wonder, was it just another facet of my ability to communicate with them, or was I changing?

Transforming.

I thought about Ethan and cringed. I shouldn’t have come here… I should have gone to him when I was upset. As we got closer to the shore both Lorelei and I tensed up. We were partners in survival, and like all wild creatures, we now shared a heightened awareness of our surroundings, scanning the waters around us with bestial caution.

“This is close enough,” I told her without speaking.

“Will you come back soon?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied audibly, looking at the distant beach and feeling my human concerns settle back onto my shoulders like a heavy cloak. “Lorelei, what happened to Nerissa? How is she?”

She smiled her resplendent smile, opening her eyes wide as a new thought occurred to her, “She is so lucky! Let’s go see her!”

I shook my head no, amused by her transparency, “I’d like that… but not right now.”

I said goodbye and made for the darkening beach, looking back to see nothing but water. As I found my footing I noticed a lone figure wandering along the beach. It was Stella, the elderly woman who fed the cats.

“Hey Stella,” I called out.

“Dollface!” she smiled wide, waggling a finger at me, “You’ll be in a load of trouble if your gang sees you coming out of the water!”

“What?” I snatched my bag and followed after her. She walked up the sand to a bench at the foot of the stairs and plunked down.

“Stella, you saw her, didn’t you? A girl in the water… A mermaid.”

Her eyes flew open wide and she put her finger to her lips, “Sssh! Mums the word!”

I watched as her eyes glazed over, and she sat there humming an old-fashioned song to herself. I changed out of my wetsuit and into my street clothes, sitting down next to her to slip on my sneakers.

“She came out of the water to see you, didn’t she?” I asked gently.

“Oh yesiree,” she giggled, “She wasn’t supposed to… but she couldn’t resist the music. I took her to the dance and she had two left feet! Oh, but I could sure cut a rug in those days…”

I remembered how awkward Lorelei was when she was forced to transform. I could scarcely imagine her trying to swing dance. Stella’s face clouded over, and she started singing under her breath again.

“What was she like?” I asked. I patted her arm, but her moment of lucidity was gone, visibly slipping away, just like the sun sinking below the horizon.

“Who?” she asked irritably, getting up from the bench and shuffling away, humming the rest of the long forgotten tune. I picked up my board and started climbing the steps, looking up to see Ethan coming down.

“So… You’re back at it,” he observed tersely, taking my surfboard for me.

“Looks like it,” I said lamely, “I’m sorry… I forgot about our plans. It’s just that–”

“I heard. I knew you’d think it was your fault. It’s not.”

I looked at him with tortured eyes, “How can you know that?”

He held out his hand, “C’mon, let’s go.”

We climbed the stairs slowly, neither of us sure of what to say.

“So… how was she doing?” he finally asked.

“Stella?”

“No, Lorelei,” he said, “She didn’t look too good before.”

I was surprised he wanted to know. He usually seemed to wish she didn’t exist. I remembered the fragile state he’d last seen her in; she was an entirely different creature now.

“It’s like it never even happened… She’s completely back to normal.”

“That’s good,” he said, “What about the other one?”

“I don’t know,” I frowned, “Lorelei wanted to take me to see her, but I had to get back.”

He didn’t say anything until we got to the landing midway up the stairs. He set my surfboard down purposefully and turned to me, “Marina?”

Here it comes, I thought. He’s going to tell me to stop going out alone, or ask me to stay away from Lorelei. I knew how much he hated the thought of us surfing together.

His voice was thick with emotion, and I could see the conflict on his face, “Please be careful.”

I went to him with my arms open wide, snuggling into his warm chest. I didn’t think it was possible to love him any more than I already did, but I was wrong. He brushed the damp hair away from my face and kissed the words right off of my lips, making me forget everything but the two of us.

“I can’t wait until we’re married,” he whispered in my ear.

“What if it’s all my fault?” I asked. He just kissed me again.

“Let’s go,” he said, “Abby’s worried about you.”

It was fully dark when we walked in the house, and we were greeted by the delicious smell of Dutch’s cooking, along with a frantic Abby.

“Marina!” she cried with relief as she threw her arms around me, “Nobody knew where you were! We were all so worried!”

“I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly, “I lost track of time.”

“Did you hear the news? I mean, it’s terrible about the congressman, but it stops everything until they hold a special election. We can really get the word out now!”

I swallowed hard, and looked at Ethan. Abby pulled back to study me, taking note of my wet hair suspiciously.

“I went surfing,” I explained, turning to go, “I’m going to jump in the shower now.”

“Make it quick,” she said, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

When we sat down to eat Abby looked around at all of us, her beautiful face rounded by pregnancy, eyes soft with sentiment, “I can’t believe the three of you will be graduating high school tomorrow! And Cruz… Moving to the city the very next morning…” Her voice caught in her throat as her eyes started welling up.

“San Francisco’s not that far, Mom,” Cruz’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle as he patted her hand reassuringly, “I’ll come visit a lot, and I’ll be down here for the rally next weekend.”

“I know,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes, “It’s just that everything’s changing so fast.”

I picked at my food, unable to eat. A terrible feeling of remorse welled up within me when the conversation turned to Congressman Hill’s untimely death. Dutch and Cruz started speculating about whether or not alcohol was involved.

“I drive that stretch of highway all the time,” Dutch said, “You’d almost have to be trying to run off the road there.”

“They say that the body was burnt to a crisp,” observed Cruz as my stomach turned, “So we’ll never know how wasted he was,” he helped himself to more shrimp risotto, “But it was three in the morning, so he was probably pretty drunk.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say!” scolded Abby. “No-one can know what goes on in someone else’s life.”

“Yeah, right mom,” Cruz was back to his sarcastic self. Ethan’s eyes met mine, and he squeezed my hand under the table.

“You’re awfully quiet Marina,” asked Abby perceptively, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m just really tired,” I said, “It’s been a long day.”

I got up to clear the table after everyone finished and Abby shooed me out.

“Cruz and I can take care of it,” she said, “You should go lie down. We can’t have you all worn out on graduation day.”

“Walk me out first,” Ethan took my arm and led me to the front door, closing it behind us and stopping to wrap me in a tight embrace on the porch. “It wasn’t your fault,” he spoke softly into my ear, “Stop blaming yourself.”

My voice was small, “I was really angry with him… Just like I was angry with Peter.”

He took my face in his hands and looked at me sternly, “Listen, bad things just happen sometimes! To good people and to bad people. You’ve got to stop tearing yourself up about it, okay?”

I nodded, “OK.”

“I love you Dollface,” he said, right before he kissed me goodnight and sent me off to sleep. Once more, he was making me love him more than I ever thought possible.

I curled up in bed, tucking Charlie under my arm and listening to his motorboat purr. Maybe Ethan was right– accidents happened every day, and my newfound awareness had been making me paranoid. I scratched the cat under his chin and listened as his purr shifted into higher gear. I thought about Ethan and relaxed, snuggling deeper under my quilt, finally falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.