“My father was like that.”
“Yeah, but he’s not Dad. Dad is dead. Why do I have to deal with a father-brother, when Dad’s dead?”
“Well, maybe he’s just trying to look out for you.”
I laugh sarcastically. Really, the comment almost ruins my mood, and I think he realizes it.
“No, no. It’s not about looking out for me, it’s more complicated than you think.”
He sits looking at me. His eyes are very light, sky blue.
“Tell me.”
“Ah, no. Believe me, it’s not worth it: it’s a beautiful day.”
“Please.”
He presses his hands together, begs me with a funny face, like an angel about to cry. Sometimes, when he talks to me, the fin at the tip of his silvered tail waves a little and brushes against my ankles. The scales are rough, but they don’t hurt, it’s a pleasant feeling. I don’t say anything, and the fin gets closer.
“Tell me . . .”
“It’s just that Mom . . . She’s not just sick: the truth is, the poor woman is totally crazy . . .”
I sigh and look up at the sky. The light-blue, absolute sky. Then we look at each other. For the first time I look at his lips. Are they cold, too? He takes my hands, kisses them, and says: “Do you think we could go out? You and me, one of these days . . . We could go to dinner, or the movies. I love movies.”
I kiss him, and I feel the cold of his mouth awaken every cell in my body, like a cool drink in the middle of summer. It’s not just a sensation, it’s a revelatory experience, because I feel like nothing can ever be the same again. But I can’t tell him I love him: not yet, more time has to pass, we have to take things step-by-step. First he comes to the movies, then I go to the bottom of the sea. But I already made a decision, irrevocable, and now nothing will separate me from him. Me, who my whole life believed one lives for a single love—I found mine on the pier, beside the sea. And now he takes me frankly by the hand, and he looks at me with his transparent eyes, and he tells me: “Stop suffering, baby, no one’s going to hurt you anymore.”
A car horn honks in the distance, from the street. I recognize it right away: it’s Daniel’s car. I look over my merman’s shoulder. Daniel gets out in a hurry and goes straight toward the bar. Apparently he hasn’t seen me.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
He hugs me, kisses me again. “I’ll wait for you,” he says. He lets me use his arm as a rope to climb down more easily, and he hands me my purse.
I run to the bar. Daniel is talking to the Italian when he sees me.
“Where were you? We said we’d meet at your house, not at the bar.”
It’s not true, but I don’t say anything. It’s not important now.
“I need to talk to you,” I say.
“Let’s go to the car, we’ll talk in the car.”
He takes my arm, gently, but with that paternal attitude that irritates me so much, and we leave. The car is a few yards away, but I stop.
“Let go of me.”
He lets go but keeps walking to the car, and he opens the door.
“Let’s go, it’s late. The doctor’s going to kill us.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Daniel.”
Daniel stops.
“I’m going to stay here,” I say, “with the merman.”
He stands looking at me for a second. I turn back toward the ocean. He, beautiful and silver on the pier, raises an arm and waves at us. And even so, Daniel gets into the car and opens the door on my side. Then I don’t know what to do, and when I don’t know what to do, the world seems like a terrible place for someone like me, and I feel very sad. That’s why I think, He’s just a merman, he’s just a merman, as I get into the car and try to calm down. He could be there tomorrow, waiting for me.
RAGE OF PESTILENCE
Gismondi found it odd that the children and the dogs didn’t run out to greet him when he arrived. Disturbed, he looked out over the plain at the car, now tiny, that wouldn’t be back for him until the next day.