An Ordinary Drowning, Book One of The Mermaid's Pendant (26 page)

An urge
struck him to take the other fork before heading west and then north again
toward Playa Melones. He hadn’t been to Playa Melones since April when Raimunda
had led him there for the first time. The soft squeak of his sandals’ rubber
soles sounded eerily loud in the still street where obsidian storefronts
glimmered darkly at his passage. He needed to reach Playa Melones and the waves
that whispered along its slight expanse.

Ten
minutes later, John left the low buildings of Dewey behind and his sandals
crunched on the thin gravel lining the path to the beach. He’d walked so
quickly from town after finding the Goddess that a flush warmed him. He scowled
at his pace but didn’t slow down until he’d reached the water’s edge. He
gripped the wire figure in his hand so hard that it bit into his flesh. He
scarcely noticed this, however, until it began to burn as if it contained a
heating element. Yelping, John dropped the Goddess.

“What
the fuck!” He sucked on his palm.

That’s
when he heard a low sound, a moan of pain, from a mound of vegetation not far
north from where he stood. Forgetting his own pain for the moment, he went to
investigate. There was a break in the shrubbery and he crept up near it, not
willing to barge in without seeing who and what lay before him. As he knelt
down, he shot a glance around the deserted beach, suddenly aware of his
isolation. He saw no one else.

Shivering,
John held his burnt palm off of the stony ground and leaned closer to the
opening in the thick vegetation. When he caught sight of the forms writhing on
the ground in front of him, John stifled a laugh. He started to rise cautiously
from his knees until the sound of his rising caught the attention of the woman
lying sprawled beneath the frantic man. In the sharp-edged moonlight, there was
no mistaking Tamarind. Their eyes met and she smiled, a wide smile that
reflected the light.

For a
moment, John’s throat constricted so painfully that he thought that he might be
suffering an anaphylactic reaction. Swallowing hard, he nodded slightly at her
and stood up without any more effort to quiet his movements. He took a step or
two backwards and then swiveled on his left heel. Even though he could no
longer see her face, John felt the strength of Tamarind’s gaze on his back as
he lurched back across the sand and the path leading to town. As he passed by
the spot where the wire Goddess lay after searing him, the stone in its belly
glowed as if mocking him.

John
squeezed his lips together and pushed his shoulders back. He walked faster and
faster until he was running and panting and he didn’t stop until he’d reached
Posada La Diosa. Even then, even as he struggled with the finicky lock on the
front door and tiptoed down the main hall towards his room, his body quivered
with the need for running. As he lay back onto his empty bed, his chest heaved.
He gave himself over to the feeling of running, running as if he flew, running
as if his legs would never tire. He fell asleep running on an infinite route through
the clouds.

***

The next
morning, the sun woke John early. His upper back ached, his forehead ached, and
fine sandpaper lined his throat. Blinking and squinting against the glare that
accosted him through the wide-planked shades, he groaned and eased himself onto
his side. After several more moments pinned to the mattress by an implacable
bar of sunlight, he groaned again and swung his legs over the side. Dead
weights that they were, his legs dropped to the floor, but his upper body
refused to comply with their pull and remained leaning against the mattress.
His whole body felt like a punching bag the day after the heavyweight champion
pummeled it, and for a long time the strain on his waist from the awkward
twisting of his upper and lower halves failed to compare.

At last his
bladder chimed in with its burning fullness and he had to ignore the stabbing
pain through his left eye and the wave of nausea that rose up as he leveraged
his upper body away from the bed with his hands. He managed to piss into the
toilet before the nausea overwhelmed him and then he collapsed onto his knees,
clutching at the cool porcelain bowl as he threw up hot fermented
coquitos
into it. The sour tang of bile and partially digested coconut milk clashed with
the acid of his urine, causing him to heave until the spasms echoed in his
abdomen reflexively.

He
gripped the edge of the bowl for a moment before pushing the handle down and
standing up on trembling legs. His reflection grimaced at him as he gulped a
mouthful of water and swished it around his nasty mouth. Although it helped, he
couldn’t rid himself of the taste until he’d brushed his teeth and tongue.

Still
weak, he managed to return to his room and find a pair of shorts and t-shirt on
the floor of the closet that didn’t look too rumpled and smelled faintly of
salt water. He pulled these on, buckled his sandals onto his feet and slid his
sunglasses over his fragile eyes. Then he set out for the only
mercado
open
at this hour, Mayte’s. He needed Tylenol and whatever liquid that his queasy
stomach would tolerate. Later, when he returned to Posada La Diosa, he would
try drinking coffee, but he doubted that he’d eat much.

“Stefan
would laugh at me, getting hung over on only three drinks.”

Only the
stray cat lying on the sun-warmed stoop heard him and she simply purred in
response. Small yellow-and-black bananaquits squeaked nearby as they fluttered
between several messy, globe-shaped nests and the bowls of sugar that Valerie
left along the canal for them.  John watched the bits of wild brightness dart
for several moments, and then he sighed and headed into the morning sun toward
Mayte’s. When he got there a handful of Culebrenses shopped for
necessities—eggs, bread, rice, beans—and a couple of them leaned against the
counter, chatting with the dour owner, Luisa. They ignored John as he toured
the aisles looking for Seven-Up and Tylenol. He’d just found the
over-the-counter drugs when Sister Maria Margarita from La Virgen Del Mar
entered the aisle from the other end.

“
Buenos
días
, John.” She stopped, holding a basket over her right forearm, and
looked him up and down. “You don’t look so good. Too much sun and sand or too
much Medalla?”

“Neither.”
John grimaced. “Look, Sister, I won’t be coming to Mass any more. I’ve decided
it’s time to return to Pittsburgh and get back to work on my research.”

She
nodded, pursing her lips. “There is a time for everything, as the wise man
says. It is for you to judge when is your time to leave us, though I am sorry
to see you go.”

“Being
here has done me a lot of good, Sister. I used to sit on one of the
playas
sometimes and just stare out at the endless blue without thinking anything at
all, just listening to my own breathing. I can really breathe here.”

“You can
always breathe, John. You just need to remember how. God will remind you, you
must trust in that.”

She
placed her free hand briefly on his forearm and squeezed. She smiled a little
and walked on down the aisle. John watched her for a moment and then he
returned to his immediate search for pain medication.

***

Tamarind
waited outside Ana’s house on the plot of bare earth that served as a porch,
her feet curled under her on the aluminum chair. She watched the sooty terns
take to the sky as the sun diluted it to pale saffron tinged with a deeper
salmon along the horizon. In a stunted tamarind tree not far from where she
sat, a laughing gull perched on a lower branch, its head half-tucked under a
wing and a single bright eye watching her. She wondered if it was Ana’s
favorite and whether Ana had set it to spy on her.

Ana
still slept inside. She hadn’t come home until nearly dawn. Tamarind had
returned last night from Isla Encantada to find the cinderblock house dark and
empty. At first, she’d been relieved that Ana wasn’t there to catch her in her
clothes and makeup, but she’d managed to hide them away and scrub her face with
saltwater and still Ana hadn’t returned. She sat for a while in the moonlit
doorway studying the constellations that John had taught her.
Mer
folk
also had names for the stars, but they’d grouped them differently and
identified these groups with way stations undersea. There was the Great Coral
Passage, the Deep Blue Hole, and the Cave of the Ancestors. Viewing them last
night had brought saltwater to her eyes.

Humming,
she studied her bare feet. Over the past few weeks, calluses had grown on the
balls of her toes and her heels. Even though she continued to find the ground
rough and the pavement painfully hot, she still couldn’t tolerate wearing
shoes. John had often teased her about looking like an urchin and when she’d
finally asked him how bare feet made her look like the prickly sea creature,
he’d only laughed.

“No, not
that kind of urchin, silly. I mean a child who lives on the street without
anyone to care for her.”

So
that’s how John saw her: an unloved orphan.

After
another couple of hours, Tamarind decided to go inside to get something to eat.
She brought out some plantain chips and a jar of peanut butter with a spoon.
John had also laughed at her craving for salty snacks and asked her if she
smoked pot. When she got upset after learning that pot was a name for an
illegal plant that some people smoked, he quit teasing her.

She’d
finished the bag of plantain chips when she heard a throat being cleared behind
her and smelled a familiar scent of clove.

“You
were out late last night.” Tamarind didn’t look around at Ana.

“Uh-huh.”
Ana sat down next to her. “It happens. How’d your date with Jesus go?”

Tamarind
shrugged. “Fine. It was fine.”

“That
doesn’t sound so positive.”

“I don’t
know if I can do this, Ana. The best part of the evening was when John watched
us dance together. After he left, I spent all my time keeping Jesus’ hands away
from me. He’s like an octopus. It was exhausting.”

Ana bit
her thumb, her clove cigarette balanced between her first two fingers. Smoke
caressed her forehead. “You only have to put up with him once, young one. Then
you’re free of all men.”

Tamarind
opened the jar of peanut butter but eschewed the spoon that she’d brought.
Sticking her forefinger into the jar, she scooped out a large dollop and licked
neatly at it.

“Raimunda
reminded me of someone.”

Ana
dragged on her cigarette. “Oh, yeah?” Smoke streamed along with the words.

“Yeah,
but I don’t know who.” Tamarind twisted the lid back on the jar and looked at
Ana for a moment. “John looked like thunder when they left together. I don’t
think he’s with her anymore.”

“And you
think maybe he’ll come to his senses and be with you now?” Ana laughed. It was
a choppy, rough sound. “I wouldn’t bet my legs on it, young one. The sooner you
forget him, the better off you’ll be. Mark my words.”

Tamarind
shrugged again and stood up. “I’m going for a swim. My throat’s as dry as a
piece of driftwood this morning.”

Ana
watched Tamarind trudge up the path toward the beach. She wore only a white
t-shirt and shorts. After being briefly tamed the night before, the long kinks
of her copper hair reveled at the sun’s familiar touch. Her legs, where they
showed below the fabric of her shorts, had grown as gracefully muscular as a
dancer’s. She watched until Tamarind had disappeared from sight and then she
smiled.

Tamarind
continued on down toward the playa, but she had no intention of swimming beyond
a quick sustaining dunk. After wetting herself completely, she shook out her
hair and then dried most of the saltwater from her skin and hair. Already, she
felt less parched and stiff. She pulled John’s t-shirt back over her head and
stepped into the shorts. She glanced toward the secret path to see if Ana had
followed her, but the old woman had not. After a moment, she knelt down and
arranged several rocks on the shore at the outlet of the path, humming a bit
while scooping handfuls of seawater over them. If Ana should happen to walk
this way, she would forget why she’d come to the playa and have a strong urge
to return to her house. It was the best Tamarind could do on Ana’s own turf.

She got
up then and hurried toward Tamarindo Estates and the road toward 251. By the
time she reached Posada La Diosa, she felt dry and worn out even though it was
only mid-morning. Her feet and calves ached from her haste.

Valerie
sat outside on her patio next to the canal, drinking coffee and twisting wire
jewelry. Behind her, a yellow and black bananaquit fluttered around the feeder
that Valerie kept filled with sugar water. On the pavers at her feet, a black
cat lay on its side licking its front paws in the sunshine. Tamarind watched
the tiny bird for a moment and the ache in her legs disappeared. Then, drawing
on the water in the canal to restore her further, she hummed a purr to the cat,
which stopped licking and looked at her. It blinked once and purred back.

“That’s
a pretty amazing trick you have. You’re a pretty amazing girl, aren’t you?” When
she looked at Tamarind that way, Tamarind thought Valerie knew her secret.
“Want to help make some pieces today?”

“Yeah,
sure.”