When We Believed in Mermaids(75)
Sleep is my superpower. It proved itself over and over and over when I was a child, and when I was so lonely in Salinas, and a hundred times over when I was in med school and after.
And it doesn’t fail me now. I fall deeply into the nothingness of sleep. No dreams, no sense of anything. For no reason I can name, I wake up almost exactly one hour later. It’s six thirty. Not much time to shower, but that’s how it goes. I dash in, wash away the humid, sweaty day, dash back out. My hair is insane from all the humidity, so big it almost makes me laugh when I look in the mirror. Leaving my skin to air-dry, I calm the crazy curls and frizz with product and water until it’s something like normal-person hair.
But that’s just about all I can manage. I am suddenly ravenous and nibble on a brownie as I get dressed in my last pair of clean underwear, one of the wrap skirts, and an aqua T-shirt with a fern in copper on the front. I have no taste for makeup, though I dig through my bag for a lipstick.
Javier is as continental as ever when I open the door to him, and he’s freshly shaved, smelling of some spicy cologne that makes me want to lean into his neck. I’m suddenly awash in nerves. “Sorry. I’m a bit underdressed, but it was so hot this afternoon, I had to stop in a tourist shop and buy something. Come in.”
He’s carrying a bottle of wine he settles on the counter, and then he turns to take my hand. Just my hand, running his calloused fingertips over my skin. “Are you all right?”
“Uh, yeah.” I pull away, start looking for my shoes, but I can’t find them, and I stop in the middle of the room with my hands on my hips. “I bought some jandals. I can’t find them.”
He bends over. “These?”
“Yes, thanks.” I slip them on. “Ready?”
“Wait.” He touches the small of my back with one hand, somehow urging me around to face him. “What is the matter?”
“I’m so hungry, Javier, I’m going to turn into a monster any second. A real live monster with horns and everything.”
“Mm.” He brushes hair away from my face. “Tell me.”
I’m standing so close to the door that I can feel a breeze coming through at floor level, and I’m aching to flee those dark, kind eyes, his tender gesture, his willing ear. I start shaking my head—“I’m fine”—and then, to my horror, tears are streaming out of my eyes, pouring and pouring, entirely against my will. I feel six years old, and yet I’m mute, only looking up at him.
From his pocket, he produces a handkerchief and, without a word, presses it into my hand and leads me over to the sofa. I sit down, and when he sits next to me, I lean into the space he’s made for me against his shoulder and let go. It’s a wordless, seemingly endless wave of emotion, and I’m helpless against it. It rolls out of me, unattached to any one thing but all the things, everything.
Javier simply holds me, one hand smoothing my hair, running down my back, the other anchoring me to the earth with its weight on my knee. Dozens of images pour through my mind—Dylan running on the beach with Cinder when he was sixteen or seventeen, happy when Cinder tackled him and licked his whole face. I ran after him and licked Cinder and licked Dylan, and Cinder licked me, and then we all ran toward the waves . . . My father teaching me how to slice tomatoes perfectly, always a sharp, sharp knife, you see . . . My parents dancing literally cheek to cheek, so in love, so beautiful . . . Josie bringing me a giant mermaid cake she and Dylan had baked for me, alight with eight candles and more candy glitter than we could possibly eat.
And more. Curling up with Dylan and Josie and Cinder in the middle of a windy night on the beach, smelling their bodies like the perfume of happiness. Sitting very still so my mom could put makeup on my face for Halloween. Sitting in my dad’s lap while he pressed my hair and told someone I was the very image of his mother.
And Josie. Josie on the beach in a tiny bikini, always falling off her skinny brown body when she was little. Josie twirling around the dance floor at Eden, her long hair flying out around her. Josie appearing on my doorstep half-starved and unwell, when I swung the door open and let her in.
Finally, I am out of tears, or at least out for the moment. “I’ll wash my face.”
He offers me a clean towel, and I recognize the green cross-hatching of the kitchen linens. I’m mortified, but I take it and start mopping up my tears. “Sorry about that.”
His lips turn downward, and he shakes his head. “No apologies.” Again, that kindly hand smooths my hair, pushes a damp tendril off my forehead. “Do you want to tell me?”
I take in a long, deep breath. “I found my sister, but here’s the thing: I haven’t eaten all day.” I can’t talk to my mother yet, not until I figure out what to say. He’s been a good listener. It’s always easier to talk to a stranger or, in this case, a temporary lover. “Let’s go to the restaurant, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“All right.” He gives my hand a kindly squeeze. “We’re going to need a lot of wine, I think.”
I snort and wipe my nose as I stand up. “Amen to that.” His shirt is damp on the shoulder. “Do you want to change?”
He slaps a hand over it. “No. These are precious tears.”
A lump forms in my throat. I like him, that’s the trouble. Like his easygoing nature, his ease in his skin. “Do you have any flaws at all, dude?”