Oceanography might seem like a career that requires passion, but its not. Its just the day in and day out tidal movements of study and observation and diligence. What’s under this rock? Coral. What’s under this coral? A neon jellyfish. What’s under this jellyfish? More rock. (Rock beats Jellyfish).
So it was with a usual lack of urgency that our hero, Paul, went to work. He stepped off the dock, onto the Submarine named “Yellow Ticket to Ride” and lifted the heavy top-door. Down he climbed as each step down the ladder echoed. One of his converse shoes slipped from a rung and he caught himself just in time. His pencil fell from behind his ear and tinked down onto the metal floor. Upon reaching the bottom, Paul took off his backpack, leaving it on the captain’s chair, and went in search of the rogue Number 2. There it was, by the west portholes.
Now, a few descriptions:
Paul was a dark-haired man in his late twenties. He had the furrowed brow of the naturally curious and the bright, hidden eyes of the painfully shy. Tall (all my heroes are tall) and lean, he sometimes felt cramped in the sub; like a cricket in a matchbox. All knees. No music.
The “Yellow Ticket” was large for an underwater vessel. She was also equipped with expansive portholes for observation, more like sea-windows really. Its lights were designed to be dim and the chairs to be comfy. Only one captain and one sailor were needed to pilot her and she was as reliable as small submarines come.
The mermaid peeking in the sea-window was slender and pale. She moved with grace and had worn-smooth glass braided into her hair. Her scales were the color of worn jeans. Her cold heart darted like a tiny fish. Mariposa was her name and she was already warming to Paul.Which is why she made the surprising move to press her white hands against the thick thermoplastic window and wait for Paul to see her. Paul, who had crawled under an observation chair to get the pencil, straightened up and came instantly face to face with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Startled, he dropped his pencil again.
She moved to the right, angling to get a better look at him. He instinctively moved to the left, mirroring her. She blinked. He sighed. And fell in love with her.
That was it. It was over. Poor Paul rested his forehead against the oh-so-cool glass and resigned himself to a life of unhappiness. Naturally curious about this mythical creature but too painfully shy to do anything about it left him doomed and alone. Seeing this, Mariposa, kicked her denim fin and swam away to the surface. Finally moving with a sense of urgency, Paul ran through the sub and climbed up the ladder, heaving himself to the top of the boat. Panting, he stood on the bow, scanning the water for any sign of her. But she was gone.
Ten years later, Paul was sitting on the edge of his beat-up sailboat, the “Silver Hammer”, fishing. The moon was big and bright. The only sound was the water slapping against the side of the boat. Sleepy and sad, he was about to put aside his pole and go to bed when suddenly! A luminescent hand reached out of the calm waters and stole one of his shoes. Paul, seeing this and having only a second to react, dropped everything and jumped in the water. He knew it was Mariposa. His body registered shock at both the freezing cold and the soft lips pressed against his. His stolen shoe floated away. They kissed and sank in the water.
Now, the ending:If this was my story, I would have drowned our tall hero with a happy death. He would have died without ever knowing the heartbreak that was sure to come after losing her again. And he probably would have resurfaced in another life as a neon jellyfish. But its not, and so he returns to the “Silver Hammer” and this blue-jean mermaid swims alongside his boat, as he sails it to an enclosed lagoon where they live for many more years as an amphibious couple. In fact, every full moon Mariposa turns into a girl and comes aboard his boat. They sleep in a hammock and drink wine at night.
