first time in my life every part of my body works together. No more fighting myself.
I leave a trail behind me of blood and pieces of shell that becomes less dense as we rise. The pain vanishes as I continue breathing underwater without fear and before we break the surface the water flowing out of my chest is clear.
Matching Sam’s speed my full body leaps out of the water. I attempt to do a flip mimicking Sam, but end up striking the surface full on with my back. Recovering from smacking the water, I rest, coughing out a vile mixture of water and grit still in my mouth. I keep coughing while Sam pushes my body from underneath, helping me to let air back into my original lungs. Floating on the surface in full sunlight I see my new glossy skin. Green, gold and blue hues sparkle with dark lines across the sides of my chest outlining the gashes now partially sealed when exposed to air.
I look for Key Largo, but it’s nowhere, but I recognize this place. It must be low tide as to the west I spot Disappearing Island just breaking the surface with a flock of seagulls enjoying the sanctuary and resting on the piano. I take some broad strokes with my arms and swim closer to the shore. Sliding over coarse shells, instead of cutting me the new skin easily deflects them sending warm shimmers through my body. I scoop up a handful of the crushed pieces and then rub them over my shoulder and their energy flows outward to the tips of my fingers. I roll in the shallows letting new parts of me experience the joy. By the time I stop there is a hole beneath me matching the size of my body. I’ve made a seashell angel. My hair now heavy with granules of dirt and shell hangs wet and straight, longer than in years. Out in the deeper water in the lagoon Sam waits, none of the other dolphins remain with him.
Now mentally invigorated but physically weak, I sit in the water, small waves still flowing in covering and then uncovering my tail when they retreat. Tail? My legs have shriveled to small nubs maybe useful for steering, while a tail has grown from beneath me. The same colors as my new skin but more intense dominate this new appendage. The tail appears juvenile ending in a partial fluke; somehow I know that it will grow larger and broader with age. I move my hand down the back of my spine and it continues into the tail. While morphing in my cocoon I’ve internally added vertebrae to my spine, continuing and forming multiple pieces of a true tailbone.
I admire this new part of me, holding it up out of the water, balancing with my arms, as I lean back against the sand as it rises. Only slightly above the water, new muscles fail to hold it aloft for long. Collapsing back into the water the tail splashes. While hidden I look rather normal, just a beach goer alone on a sand bar with no boat. Oh, and no bathing suit. The new skin covering me has a thin clear coating wrapping around me, while blue, green and gold emit from below. I wrap my arms around my chest now very aware that the next boat out will find this naked girl-fish. No boats are coming and I hold onto my seashell necklace the only thing that remains from my prior life hoping that Dillon doesn’t find me like this. Bizarre that Dillon, not Mom, is the first person I think of.
Red pigment flows through my skin starting at my head and rushing downward. My entire body turns red. Staring at my palms I only see a uniform red. I slowly rub my palms willing the stain to retreat and it fades leaving me with my original tan hand and bright red running down like sleeves. If only it wasn’t red. While in front of me the color grows darker until the arm is as black as a wetsuit. A wetsuit would be appropriate. I look at my hands and the darker pigment stops in a clear line around my wrists leaving my hands free and my reflection in the water confirms the extra pigment in my face has retreated to below my necklace. To boaters I’m no longer naked; just some crazy girl in a wetsuit sitting in the water. I run my fingers down my chest focusing on the touch and blue ink trails behind each connection until it fades back to black.
“You knew this, didn’t you Sam?” My voice cracks still getting use to air and sounds higher with new structures limiting my voice box. Clicks, whistles and squeals for “Play” echo back to me in the water vibrating up my spine. I push off of Disappearing Island to join my lively friend and as I swim underwater, I allow my skin to switch back to radiating blue, green and gold blending with the ocean. I use the new pathway in my throat to direct water away from my lungs and through the passage lined with cells that celebrate capturing the oxygen from the water. I try to call to my friend. Underwater my throat fails to vocalize words, but I am able to emit a squeal.
“Play,” he keeps repeating.
And I mimic, “Play,” as best as I can back at him.
Sam rises up from underneath me. I reach out with both arms, using my new tail to swim. I feel my muscles pulling and stretching, and enjoy the wonderful sensation, compared to the rips and tears that I was forced to endure when my skin fought against me. Sam and I match speed and I grab on to his fin. As soon as I get a grip he accelerates and together we dart through the water, side by side. Sam takes me around the island twice before returning to the cove. I release, and float in the shallow water. When my tail is fully-grown I’m going to race Sam. He’s fast but I know I can beat him one day.
Day 7 – Friday Afternoon
The other dolphins return to Disappearing Island. I don’t know if they are here for Sam or me. I keep my distance, not approaching them, allowing them to make the first move. The mother with her newborn at her side is the first to approach. I didn’t anticipate this and it seems counterintuitive. The other members of the pod stay back keeping their distance. The mother slowly turns in front of me and begins to circle so that the baby swims feet from me with his mom on the outside. I place my right arm out and on the next pass the baby slides underneath my hand.
Sam let’s out a squeal, higher pitched than Play and the baby and mother stop swimming and hover next to me. The baby swims even closer allowing me to touch him. As I pet him he nods his head and a trail of bubbles escape. “I’ll call you Bubbles. Bubbles is your name.” More head nods from my new friend. His mother also approaches and lets me place my hand on her. With locked eyes the name of Sky seems attached to her face. As much as anyone can name another, I give her that name.
At the mechanical hum of an engine, I mentally shift my skin back to mimic a wetsuit. The dolphins also react, tightening up the group with Bubbles and Sky back into the middle, while Sam stays by my side. I keep low in the water not wanting to be spotted, but they are already close. The boat, on a course heading straight for my island, flies the Make a Wish flag. Dillon with binoculars rides at the front of the Fish ‘n Ship. He waves. I’ve already been spotted.
Past Disappearing Island the water remains calm and inviting. I could escape. Nobody would believe him. Fish-people don’t exist. But why are they here? And then I see Mom. With both arms waving she rushes to the front of the boat wearing a bright orange lifejacket.
“Kara!” across the water my mother screams for me.
I swim out to greet them, letting everyone see the real me. Using my new tail I glide at the surface, keeping my head out of the water. As I near the boat Mom jumps in. Never athletic it’s more of a fall. Thankfully Nick shuts off the engines, as the boat continues forward with her bobbing in the ocean next to it.
“What are you doing Mom?” She flails in the water doing the doggy paddle, and it looks ridiculous in a life jacket as she just ends up splashing herself.
“Swimming!”
“Stop. Let me come to you.”
Without the water splashing around her, I can finally see her face. No makeup, eyes red, she been crying. As I near her, Mom stretches out for me and we hug.
“Kara, I thought we lost you.”
“I’m good, better than good. Look at me.”
“Your face! All those lines that covered up your beautiful smile. It’s been so long.” She reaches out with her hand, letting it caress my check. “You look like you did when you were little.” We stay like that, together, rising up and down with the rolling waves, the longest she has held me in years.
When she finally releases me, I swim around her, letti
ng the tail rise to the surface.
“Oh, Kara, that is going to take some time for me to get used to. Does it hurt?”
“No. Feels normal. I’m not sure what happened.”
“Grandma wouldn’t let me waste your last wish on hang-gliding, if there was any hope in the stories being true. You belong in the ocean, alive, not dying on land.”
“What stories?”
“Mermaids. Look at you. You didn’t think mermaids were blondes or red-heads with pale skin?” Mom questions me. “They’re all natives.”
“So you knew?”
“Grandma knew, I thought she was crazy, but look at you, she was right. She made me promise to get you down here. I tried to argue with her.”
“Debate.”
“Yes, debate her, and she convinced me to try. The worst result would be no change, and the best outcome this. You will live.”
“Are there others?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does Grandma know?”
“No, she doesn’t. I’m sorry. The stories are old, from before the tribe was forced to move.”
“I’m unique.”
Mom in her orange lifejacket with her arms again wrapped around my body reminds me, “Kara, you’ve always been unique, you’re so special to me.”
Nick above us on the boat shouts down, “Everybody is unique,