Eamon

It’s a long walk back to the fishing village of Solor. Along the way I think of my strange encounter with the mermaid Blossom, wondering if it wasn’t all some bizarre hallucination. She certainly seemed real enough…

Will I really be able to see her again? She seemed confident we’ll be able to meet up again if I sing, but realistically, how far will the sound of my voice carry? Half a mile? Maybe a mile, under water? I haven’t known Blossom very long, but she strikes me as someone who wouldn’t have thought that far ahead. Another incurable optimist, just like Mother.

Mother. How am I going to tell her about Uncle’s fishing boat? We’re already in so much debt. If she finds out the boat is sunk and we’ve just lost our only means of financial independence, I fear she’ll take it badly. Though she’s eternally cheerful, shocks of any kind are hard on her weak heart.

Head pounding after a long day in the sun, still somewhat dazed by all the events of today, I climb the sandy path lined with wildflowers to our little seaside shack on the edge of the village. A brilliant orange sun sets to my right, casting my frame in an ever lengthening shadow.

Inside the house is dark. Mother sits in her corner chair crooning softly to herself while her nimble fingers work tirelessly at weaving a basket.

“Welcome home. Supper’s on the stove.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say hoarsely, nauseated by the mere thought of food.

“You’ve caught a cold,” she says with alarm, setting her basket aside to rise from her chair. The floor of our home is always spotless, free from obstacles, so she doesn’t need her cane to get around. She walks right up to me, drawn by the sound of my breath, I suppose. Her hand comes to my forehead and she frowns.

“You’re burning up.”

“It’s not a cold. Heat exhaustion, I think.”

“Didn’t you remember your hat when you went out this morning?”

“I lost it in the storm.”

She makes a frustrated sound. “For now go upstairs and lie down. I’ll fetch you some water and a cool cloth.”

“I can get it myself.”

“Do as I say,” she badgers me. “You might be pushing twenty years but you’re still my son. Let me take care of you.”

I haven’t the strength to fight her, like I haven’t the heart to tell her about the boat. For now I’ll just rest, I think, conscious only of my throbbing head, a sensation like my brain’s trying to burst right out of its skull.

For tonight, just let me sleep.

I’m sicker than I realized. I spend the night in a fevered daze, periodically vomiting all the contents of my stomach. I don’t know how Mother manages to keep everything so clean; as always I am in awe of her competence as she works around her handicap. But I worry for her, too. I don’t like her climbing the stairs so many times in a single night, carrying blankets and basins. What if she trips? And what about her heart? If I find out she’s pushed herself too far again for my sake…

Sometime in the night my stomach settles. I slip in and out of the strangest, most colorful dreams about mermaids. Some are sharks who want to eat me, but the friendly ones are whales, and they come up periodically to breathe air like humans.

Like this, the night passes, and half the next day. When I finally wake it’s afternoon. My body’s still fevered and exhausted, but I make an effort to rise and rinse my body of sweat. I bandage the cuts on my hands and knees which fortunately don’t look too bad before heading downstairs. There’s porridge on the stove and I eat a little after a short conversation with Mother. I don’t tell her about the boat.

Guilt weighs me heavily as I return to my bed. I don’t want to keep it from her, but I don’t know how to bring it up either. I know how she’ll be. After the shock’s passed I know she’ll just smile and say it wasn’t my fault, she’ll tell me to keep my chin up and not to worry, something good is sure to come along.

But what we need now are real solutions, not optimistic platitudes. We’re in so much debt as it is. Without a steady income from Uncle’s fishing boat…

The boat. It was more than Uncle’s livelihood. In a way, it was his very soul. I sometimes thought he loved that boat even more than he loved me. Just a clunky, dingy old thing, I remember the way the villagers laughed when he took out the insurance policy on it…

I shoot up abruptly and my head screams its disapproval. Wincing through one eye, I grip my skull, thoughts spinning.

The insurance policy! How could I forget? With the money from that, I can pay off Uncle’s debts and put a down payment on a new boat!

I fall back into bed, feeling as though a ten ton weight has just been lifted from me. My thoughts continue, making plans for tomorrow, and far into the future. In my mind, my career as a future commercial fisherman seems all but assured.

But is that really what I want? I ask myself later as I continue to lie awake, staring up at the low sagging ceiling. My best day as a successful fisherman, will it make me as happy as I felt yesterday, when I sang my song to a single captive audience member?

It doesn’t matter, I decide, shaking myself from these foolish thoughts. I’m not a child anymore, but a man; I need a real career if I’m going to take care of my mother. Dreams are nice for sleeping, but they won’t put food on the table. 

Satisfied with my practical conclusion, I sleep soundly on through the rest of the day and into the night, waking refreshed the following morning. In a cheerful mood I make my way to see Erasmus, the president of the village bank. After a good deal of being shuffled around and told to wait, at last I’m granted an audience with the richly dressed middle-aged man. He listens to my tale with that air of impatience so many important men tend to have. As though his time is worth a good deal more than my troubles.

“Yes, very sad, losing your uncle like that. And now you tell me his boat’s gone too, what a pity.”

“But Uncle took out an insurance policy with you. I’m hoping to use the money to buy a new boat.”

“That money?” he snorts. “It will buy you some new canvas maybe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You read, Boy?”

“A little.”

“More than your uncle, I’m sure,” he says gruffly, and he passes a paper to me. “You see that sum? That’s the total amount of gold the boat’s insured for.”

I feel my heart sink as I stare at the numbers.

“But this can’t be right. Uncle assured me—”

“I don’t know what impression he was under when he left his mark on this document, but as you can see, it was not for the full amount of the boat.”

This can’t be right. I’m sure Uncle paid a significantly larger sum than what’s shown here just to insure his beloved boat. There’s no way…

“My advice to you, Son—get a lawyer before you sign a document like this. Especially if you don’t know how to read. This document was drawn up before my tenure, so I’m not responsible for any funny business, alright? I can pay you the amount he signed for, but not a copper more. Don’t bother trying to get the magistrate involved. Unless your uncle kept very careful receipts, no one’s going to give you the time of day.”

I leave the bank and step out into the sunlight with a small purse of coins clutched in my hand. Dazed, for a minute I can’t even move. Then a fishmonger appears in the path and shouts at me for being in his way, recalling me to my senses. I hurry off to find a seat in the shade of an olive tree, still trying to wrap my mind around it all.

Uncle was swindled? And by the bank, no less. They took advantage of his illiteracy and robbed him of his hard earned gold. And there’s not a single thing I can do about it. 

I have in my hand barely a fraction of the boat’s worth. Enough to keep the debt collectors happy for a few weeks, and not much more.

Already my mind is working far in the future. I’ll have to find another profession, I realize. We’ll have to sell the house, move inland where maybe I can find work in the fields and orchards.

I like the thought of that even less than I like the idea of fishing, but what can I do? It seems my life’s been determined for me by yet another stroke of bad luck.

I sigh. At least I have some coin to buy Blossom cheese pastries now. It would be nice if I could see her again before I have to leave the village. If she’s even real…