My Baby Hatched From a Pearl

The man I loved disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a single pearl. I thought it was his goodbye gift. Then the pearl cracked open, and a tiny fish crawled out. He loved live shrimp, hated wearing socks, and snored in his sleep like a dolphin calling to its pod. I made $3,500 a month. I spent $4,800 keeping him alive and happy. As for his deadbeat father... Five years. Not so much as a ripple. I used to go to the beach every day and wait for him. Then I stopped waiting. Eventually, I stopped even looking at the ocean. But every day, my little fish would curl around the tip of his own tail and ask me the same question. "Where's my other daddy?" 1 The aquarium sat at the far end of Old Town. Inside, we had six koi, two turtles, a tank of tropical fish, and one Lancaster Bubbles. It was Wednesday. Nobody had come in all day. I sat behind the counter, going over the books, and discovered that we'd lost $1,300 this month. Again. Bubbles was crouched in front of the biggest fish tank, his nose practically glued to the glass as he stared down six koi. The koi had huddled in one corner, their tails trembling. What could I say? To freshwater fish, the scent of a merfolk child was basically the smell of their natural predator. Ever since Bubbles had learned to walk, those poor koi had suffered from what could only be described as collective anxiety. "Bubbles, quit scaring them." "I'm not." He turned around, his little face going solemn. "They're scared of me." I sighed, pulled ten pounds of live shrimp from the cooler, and dumped them into his personal basin. The shrimp were still jumping. Bubbles scooped up two handfuls, tipped his head back, and swallowed them whole. Shells and all. Ten minutes later, a shrimp antenna dangling from the corner of his mouth, he mumbled, "Daddy. More." "That's it. You can have more at dinner." "But I'm hungry." "Then drink some water." He tilted his head, considering this seriously. Then he turned around and rose onto his tiptoes, reaching for the cup on the counter. That's when I noticed his toes. The webbing had grown back. A thin, translucent membrane stretched between each toe, glowing faintly blue beneath the overhead lights. I got up, lifted him onto a stool, and dug a box of Band-Aids out from beneath the counter. One between every pair of toes. Bubbles looked down at his colorful little feet and muttered, "Again." "Yep. That's what happens when you refuse to wear socks." "None of the kids at preschool wear socks." "You're not like the other kids." He went quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "How am I different?" I had no answer. 2 The community pool offered free admission on Saturdays. I hadn't planned on taking Bubbles. But he'd spent three days staring at the flyer taped to the entrance of the grocery store. Every time we passed it, he stopped to touch the picture of the pool. Eventually, I gave in. In the locker room, I pulled a one-piece swimsuit over his head. I'd spent half the night altering it myself, extending the fabric from his neck all the way down to his feet. It covered every inch of him. "Hot," Bubbles complained, tugging at the neckline. "Deal with it." "The other kids have little swimsuits." "You have a big swimsuit." He puffed out his cheeks in protest but followed me outside. The pool was outdoors. Sunlight shattered across the water in a thousand golden fragments. Bubbles stopped at the edge, his eyes lighting up. He looked like a fish that had been wandering the world for years and had finally found a body of water big enough to call home. He crouched and dipped a finger into the pool. The skin changed instantly. Tiny scales spread from the base of his fingernail, creeping all the way to his wrist. I snatched his hand and closed my fingers around it. "Bubbles. Remember our rule? Three seconds in the water, then your hand comes out. Count to three, and you're done." He nodded, but his eyes never left the pool. Something inside me ached. Before I could talk myself out of it, I scooped him up and sat down on the steps in the shallow end. The water reached my waist and covered his chest. The instant it touched him, his whole body relaxed. Like a cat melting into someone's hand when they scratch just beneath its chin. He leaned against me, drawing little circles beneath the surface with his hands. He didn't lift them out again. For a while, everything was fine. Then a woman wearing a swim cap screamed from the other side of the pool. "Snake! There's a snake in the water!" Everyone scrambled for the deck. I looked down. Bubbles' swimsuit had developed a strange bulge around his lower back. The stitching had split. A small blue tail poked through the opening, swaying lazily beneath the water. I shoved Bubbles against my chest and stood up. "Sir! Sir, what is that thing—" "A toy! Inflatable toy! Cheap crap burst!" I wrapped a towel around Bubbles and rushed into the locker room without looking back. Once the door was shut, I leaned against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. Bubbles poked his head out of the towel. His tail hadn't had time to retract, and it lay wet and limp across my arm. "Sorry, Daddy," he whispered. "It's okay. We'll talk about it at home." Bubbles barely spoke for the rest of the day. Four-year-olds don't understand why they have to be different from everyone else. But mine had learned not to ask. Somehow, that hurt worse than any question he could have asked me. 3 That evening, Bubbles soaked in the bathtub. His tail had unfurled completely, hanging over the edge of the tub. The fin at its tip slapped gently against the tiled floor. Blue light filled the bathroom, turning it into something out of an underwater dream. He lay back with his head tilted up, blowing bubbles from his mouth. They rose in little strings, floating into the air before popping. I crouched beside the tub and poured water over his hair. "Daddy?" "Yeah?" "Am I a fish?" My hand paused. "No. You're not a fish." "Then what's my tail?" "It's... genetic." "What's genetic?" "It's something your dad gave you. Your other dad." Bubbles thought about that. "Does my other daddy have a tail, too?" "He does." "Where is he?" The bathroom fell quiet. The faucet dripped, one drop at a time, onto the tile. It was the first time Bubbles had ever asked me about the man who'd left us. "I don't know." I lifted him out of the water and wrapped him in a towel. His tail slowly shrank, and the scales faded one by one, like the tide retreating from the shore. "But he has a beautiful tail," I added. "Bigger than yours. Brighter, too. Deep blue. The kind of blue you only see in the deepest parts of the ocean." Bubbles rested his head on my shoulder, his wet hair brushing my neck. "Do you miss him, Daddy?" I didn't answer. I carried him to his room, tucked him beneath the covers, and turned off the light. Then I stood in the darkness for a while. Eventually, I dug a small velvet pouch out of a drawer. Inside lay a pearl, broken cleanly in half. Five years ago, I'd woken up to find the bed empty and the pearl resting on my pillow. No note. No message. No explanation. I'd assumed it was a breakup gift. For eight months, I'd kept it in my hands, turning it over whenever I couldn't sleep. Then, in the ninth month, it cracked. Something wrinkled and wet crawled out. It was barely bigger than my palm, with a thin little tail trailing behind it like a thread. It opened its mouth and let out a short cry. Not the cry of a human baby. More like the sharp whistle of a dolphin. I'd nearly dropped him in sheer terror. But then his tiny fingers closed around my thumb. His nails were transparent. The delicate lines in his skin resembled fish scales. And in that moment, I understood what the pearl had been. Not a breakup gift. An egg. Ours. 4 The day before the typhoon made landfall, every fish in the aquarium sank to the bottom of its tank and pretended to be dead. I was taping up the leaking window seams when I turned around and saw Bubbles standing in the middle of the living room. He was staring out the window, his pupils narrowed into impossibly thin vertical slits. "Daddy. Listen." "Listen to what?" I pressed the tape firmly against the window frame. "The ocean is calling." He turned toward me. There was no white in his eyes. They were completely black. My stomach dropped. The roll of tape slipped from my hand and hit the floor. "Bubbles. Come here." I hurried over to pick him up. The instant my hand touched his skin, I recoiled. He was burning hot. A translucent scale peeled away from his cheek and dropped to the floor, disintegrating into a little pile of powder. He was drying out. I rushed him into the bathtub and turned the faucet all the way up. Cold water poured over him, hissing into white steam. It didn't help. Bubbles curled up in agony, his blue tail thrashing violently against the sides of the tub. "Hurts... Daddy... Water..." I dumped every container of table salt in the house into the bathtub. But compared with the volume of water, the salinity was pathetic. It probably wasn't even as salty as a single tear from his deadbeat father. Bubbles' breathing grew faster and more ragged. Freshwater couldn't save him. I looked out the window. Then I looked at my son. To hell with the typhoon. I scooped Bubbles up, wrapped him tightly in a towel, grabbed my car keys, and ran out the door. 5 Bubbles was convulsing in the passenger seat. The radio was broadcasting a severe weather warning. "...Coastal winds have reached Category 12. Residents are strongly advised to stay away from the shoreline—" I switched it off. Five years ago, that man had disappeared during a typhoon, too. The waves had been enormous that night. He'd told me he was going out to buy cigarettes. I'd believed him. He was the king of the sea. Surely the waves couldn't hurt him. What I'd forgotten was that even a king was supposed to return to his palace. The next morning, he hadn't come home. All he'd left me was a child who would literally dry up and die if he didn't return to the ocean. I clenched my jaw until it hurt. My eyes burned. Not because I wanted to cry. Because I was furious. If anything happened to Bubbles tonight, I'd drain the entire damn ocean if I had to. I'd find that bastard and chop him into little pieces to feed to the shrimp. 6 The car's wheels sank into the muddy ground beside the beach. The engine died. The seawall lay just ahead. Enormous waves crashed over it and slammed into the shore. I unbuckled my seat belt, scooped up Bubbles, and kicked the car door open. Rain struck my face like needles. Bubbles' tail thrashed so hard that I nearly lost my grip on him. "Hold still!" I stumbled toward the ocean. The water swallowed my ankles, freezing me to the bone. Then the child in my arms went quiet. The scales that had been cracking and flaking on land began to glow faintly blue the moment they came into contact with the damp sea air. He was going to be okay. I, on the other hand, was about to die. A gigantic wave came crashing toward us. I had just enough time to turn my back and shield Bubbles with my body. The world exploded. I was tossed around underwater several times, choking on a mouthful of bitter, salty seawater. When I finally clawed my way out of the shallows and spat sand from my mouth, the water had risen to my chest. The undertow was vicious, dragging me farther out with every passing second. I was slipping into the sea. "Daddy... let go." Bubbles pushed against my chest. "You'll drown." "Shut up." I locked my arms around his waist. "I spent four years raising you. Not so you could swim off and find that cheating bastard who abandoned us." Another wave came. This one was bigger. Taller. A wall of black water blotted out the sky, bearing down on us with enough force to destroy everything in its path. For the first time, I gave up. There were limits to what a human being could fight. I closed my eyes, pressed Bubbles' head against my chest, and waited for the final impact.