Chapter Text
Till was six years old when he saw the creature on the shore. It’s an ugly thing, a humanoid shape half submerged in the rolling waves, plastered all over the sand. Its skin stretches thin over bony limbs, and its limbs splay out on the golden dunes. Something black and shiny peeks out from the water, where it is connected to the creature’s body. The creature can’t be any bigger than Till.
Till kneels by the water, his hands flat on the ground. He stares at the creature, looking more boy than monster. The creature lies face down. Its face is sallow, unlike Till’s pudgy cheeks. A large splotch of blue-black blooms across his face, where the skin is visible under his shaggy clumps of black hair.
“Hello?” Till tries, poking at the creature’s cheek. “Are you awake?”
The creature doesn’t respond. It continues to lie there, as though asleep. Till thinks it might be dead.
“Wait here. I’m gonna get something to make that bruise all better.”
Till’s mother serves as an herbalist for the small fishing village that Till hails from. He knows the fundamentals of pharmacy, how to use and blend natural ingredients to create pastes, salves, and ointments to treat the nastiest of wounds. Next year, his mother promised to teach him to make decoctions and pills.
Till scrounges about for the leaves of the herb that grows by the big palm tree no farther than two metres from the edge of the water. He plucks the tiny blades, green as shamrock, their edges tinged with a sliver of rose pink. When Till gathers enough, he rushes back to the boy, his footsteps padding silently across the shore.
He almost drops the herbs when he returns. He expected the boy to continue lying there, unmoving, because the boy is asleep or dead. Yet, the boy is sitting, propped on his hands, the ends of his magnificent scaly tail disappearing into the water. The boy rubs his eye, his scraggly hair covering half of his face. His other eye stares at Till, his red pupil blazing, his gaze penetrating. Till’s legs go stiff, and he freezes in place.
“H-Hello!” he repeats, clutching the herbs tighter to his chest. “What’s your name?”
The creature doesn’t answer. He continues staring at Till, his lips pursed. Till’s initial fears fade, and he dashes across the shore. He kneels next to the creature, and the creature flinches. He bares his fangs, but Till sees that one of them is chipped, leaving him with only the one good fang.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Till says. “My name is Till. What’s yours?”
The creature’s words are garbled. Perhaps he doesn’t understand what Till is saying. In any case, Till caught a serious of syllables that sounds almost like a moniker. “Okay, I’ll call you Ivan.”
The creature blinks. Sand clings to his eyelashes. He repeats, “Ivan?”
“Yeah, that’s your name. I think. I couldn’t hear you very well,” Till says. “Here. You should put this on your cheek.”
He plucks a leaf from the bundle, and he presses it to his own cheek. He gestures at the rest of the leaves.
Ivan looks down at the leaves. He pinches one between his fingers, his lips parted ever so slightly. Then, he proceeds to gobble it up.
“Wait, no! Don’t eat that!” Till cries, lunging at Ivan. His hands meet a sharp jawline. In shock, Ivan headbutts him, leaving both children clutching their heads in pain and letting out twin whines.
“It’s bad for you,” Till whimpers. This creature looks confused, then he gags, and the slimy piece of green slithers out of his throat along with globules of spit. Till gawks at the sight.
“Okay,” Till says, and he takes another deep breath. “Let’s try again.”
Luckily, the creature understands him enough to mimic his actions the second time around. Delighted, Till grins widely. “Yeah, just like that. Keep it there for about a day, and the bruise will go away.”
Although, the moment Till lowers his hand—on account of its soreness—Ivan follows suit. Till sighs. This is going to be tougher than he thought.
“Okay, wait right here. Let me go and get something.”
Ivan bows his head, picking at the leaves on the sand. Till hurries back home, to their humble abode a five-minute walk from the shore, located at the edge of the village. His mother isn’t home at the moment; she’s at the apothecary, aiding people with their ailments. Till scavenges for a roll of bandages and a jar of sticky sap. He slams the cupboard doors shut and he sprints back to where Ivan is waiting for him.
Ivan hasn’t moved a muscle. He lifts his head when Till returns, however. Till stuffs the leaves onto the bandage, and he rips off enough to cover the entirety of the bruise. He proceeds to haphazardly plaster the bandage onto the wound. It’s not his best handiwork, but he’s only six, so he gets some leeway.
“There we go!” Till says, admiring his pride and joy. Ivan rubs at the droplet of sap running down his jaw. “Just leave that on for a day and you’ll be all better.”
Ivan continues to stare at him with those piercing, black eyes, as though unaware of what transpired. Till squirms, unsure of what to say or do. So, he lets his eyes trail over to the elephant in the room—or on the beach, rather. The fish’s tail stemming from his waist and ending in the water.
“Is that a tail?” Till asks, though the answer is obvious. Maybe he just wants Ivan to confirm it himself. “Does that mean you can swim?”
Till points at his tail, and Ivan glances back at the appendage. He swishes it around, dragging it through the sand and the waves. For some reason, Till is certain that he has seen something like this before. Half-man and half-fish, the boy before him must be—
“A mermaid!” Till cries, pointing a finger at him. A finger that Ivan promptly bites.
“Ow!” Till howls, pushing at Ivan’s face. Ivan lets go, confusion on his face, and Till sniffles as his finger stings where Ivan’s fang pierced skin, droplets of blood oozing from the wound. “Bad Ivan! You can’t bite someone like that.”
Ivan stares at him blankly. Then, he lets out a giggle. He sort of looks creepy when he smiles, because his eyes are still wide and glassy whilst his mouth stretches from ear to ear, his fangs bared. But he also looks somewhat funny, so Till laughs along, momentarily forgetting the pain in his finger.
Ivan reaches for something under his tail, something that gleams in the sunlight. It’s a small black rock flecked with dots of white, polished by the sea and smooth around the edges, almost in a perfect sphere. It’s the prettiest rock that Till has ever seen. He holds it out to Till, dropping it into Till’s open palm.
“What is this?” Till asks.
Ivan cocks his head. He points at Till, and then himself, and then at the ocean. Till frowns, not very sure as to the gesture’s meaning. Till moves to hand it back, but Ivan presses it into his hands, shaking his head. Perhaps he wants Till to keep it?
“Okay, I’ll keep it,” Till says. Perhaps it is a token of thanks for helping him, or it might be a vow of friendship. In any case, Till would treasure it. He’d wear it on a necklace each and every day. “Do you want to come back home with me?”
Till has no clue what he’d do if Ivan did say yes, but he’d probably fashion a cart or stretcher and transport Ivan that way. However, before he has a chance to answer, a melodic song fills the air. Ivan turns back to the sea, staring straight at the figure with her head above the water, her long black hair curtaining her face.
“Is that your mother?” Till asks.
Ivan doesn’t answer. Instead, he drags himself back into the water, digging his fingers and elbows into the sand. When he gets close enough, he dives beneath the surface, his black tail the last thing that vanishes from view. Till splashes into the water up to his shins, the pebble clutched tight in his hand, its white speckles glowing ever so slightly.
The figure far out into the water is gone, and now, so is Ivan. All that Till has to remember their encounter by is that stone that fits just right into the palm of his hand. He looks out to the ocean, scanning the horizon for any sign of the mermaids. However, he finds none.
Soon, his own mother’s voice rings out from behind him, summoning him home for dinner. Till pads along, running back up the shore home, still keeping his grip tight on the stone. He’s certainly not going to tell his mother about his encounter with the mermaid today. Not as long as the legends of murderous mermaids float around his village.
Till discreetly slides the pebble into his pocket before he enters the house. The blood on his finger has already crusted.
“Where have you been?” Io asks as soon as Till steps through the door, tracking wet footprints onto the wooden planks. The table has been set, the fragrance of her delicious cooking filling the air. He steps over to his chair, and he plops himself down on the bamboo.
“I went to play at the beach,” Till says. “I was looking for rock shrimps.”
“Oh, honey. Rock shrimps don’t live near here. You’ll have to go to the eastern shore for those.” Io puts the fire out, and she moves the pot of boiling soup to their small dining table. Till’s mouth waters at the smell.
“Will you bring me to the eastern shore one day? I wanna see the rock shrimps, and the manny rays.”
“The manta rays,” Io corrects. “And maybe, if you are good.” She ruffles Till’s hair, her fingers curling around his locks. Till digs in, chomping down on rice and chicken and vegetables. It’s a simple meal, but it’s scrumptious nonetheless. Especially since he’s with his mother.
After dinner, Till heads straight to his room. He reaches into his Box of Precious Things, stuffed underneath his bed where his mother wouldn’t find it. Till opens the box, nestling the speckled stone next to a feather and a conch shell. He slaps the lid on and hastily shoves it back under his bed when he hears his mother’s footsteps. His heart rate goes at a hundred and eighty miles an hour as he comes face to face with his mother standing in the doorway.
“Till, you need to bathe,” Io says. “Don’t think I didn’t see all the sand you brought into the house.”
“Okay.” Till hops off his bed, and he totters to the bathroom. He will keep the pebble safe, because it’s a present from a mermaid. A mermaid with black hair and red eyes and a shiny black tail, whom he treated and who bit him and who is just all around an interesting new friend.
*
The next time Till sees Ivan, he’s eight years old, sitting on the shore with his legs pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around his knees where his tearstained face is buried. The bruises on his ribs hurt, and his face smarts where he was struck. He hates those neighbourhood boys, because all they care about are their wealth and their status and they pick on anyone smaller than them. He ran from them after their merciless beating, and his feet led him here.
He hears a short series of yips, and he peers up to see a face staring at him from the water. He jolts, his pulse rate jumping, but he calms when he recognises that face. The face of a boy whom he hasn’t seen in two full years.
“Ivan?” Till tries.
Ivan pulls himself onto shore, sitting with his tail coiled around him. Till wipes his eyes of tears and his nose of snot. He walks over to Ivan, and he drops onto the sand next to him. Ivan looks more well-kempt this time, though still smelling strongly of the salty sea. His eyes are still large, and his gaze is more curious than intimidating.
“How have you been?” Till asks. “Why didn’t you come back before?”
“I wanted to come back.”
Till blinks. He hadn’t expected Ivan to make a noise, much less speak, considering their interaction two years ago.
“I wanted to come back, but my family wouldn’t let me. They say I have duties and responsibilities,” Ivan says. “I missed you, Till.”
“I missed you too! And your family is a big meanie for not letting you come back.”
Ivan chuckles. His voice hasn’t changed much from what blurry memories Till has. “I don’t like my family too. I want to spend time with you.”
“Then, will you visit me every day from now on? You’re my only friend.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t. I need to go back or else my family would be suspicious. But I’ll come visit you as often as I can. Whenever I can sneak out, I’ll come visit you. I can take you out on the waves and see the whales and the dolphins and the eels and the fishies. I can bring you home and you can come live with me, then we’ll see each other every day.”
“We’ll have to bring my mother too, because I don’t want to leave my mother alone,” Till says.
“Okay, we can bring your mother too. We have a lot of rooms at home, so you can each have one room.”
Till chatters on, completely forgetting about his earlier altercation. Talking with Ivan is fun, and Till hears stories about mermaid life than he wouldn’t know about otherwise. As it turns out, Ivan lives in a seashell castle alongside his parents and older sister. In the two years he was gone, he begged his personal tutor to teach him the human language to he could speak with Till the next time they met. Two years ago, he ended up beached because he was battered by a pod of orcas after fleeing his stifling life at the castle, which explains the bruise.
“Why were you crying?” Ivan asks.
Till flushes. “Me? I wasn’t crying.”
“You can tell me. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself.”
There is sincerity in his eyes; he has the sort of caring gaze that makes Till want to spill the whole lot. And so, tempted by the mermaid’s eyes, Till says, “They were bullying me. The neighbourhood boys.”
Ivan tilts his head. “The neighbourhood boys?”
“Yeah. They’re a bunch of meanies. They just want everyone to bow down to them because they’re bigger and stronger. And they always act like angels in front of the adults, so the adults never believe me. It’s all so unfair.”
“Is that why you got this?” Ivan reaches over and prods Till’s cheek where the large blue-black bruise is. Till flinches, recoiling at the touch. Till nods, and the tears well up in his eyes again.
“They called my mother bad words. They said she fell in love with a merman and had a kid, and they said that I’m half mermaid and half human and I’m gonna gobble them all up. Even my teacher is scared of me. She thinks I don’t know it, but I do.”
“What’s wrong with falling in love with a mermaid? And what’s wrong with being half merfolk and half human?”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong. But they said that that’s why my mother is all alone and I have no father. Then they tell me to go back to my mermaid friends.”
At that, Ivan grins wide. “They’re not wrong. You should come with me. No one will dare bully you in the castle. We can bring your mother along too.”
Till considers this. “But I can’t breathe underwater, and neither can she. We’ll drown.”
“Do you have the rock I gave you the last time?” Ivan asks. “You should keep that rock with you whenever you come to the beach. It lets you breathe underwater.”
“O-Oh. Okay.”
“Good. Okay, I’ll see you later. I think your mother’s calling your name.”
Till pricks his ears up, and indeed, he does hear the faint shrill call of his mother, wondering where he is. He pushes himself to his feet. “Will you come back again tomorrow?”
“It depends on whether I can sneak out. But I promise I won’t be long.”
“Okay. You promised!”
Till’s mother calls again, and Till waves vigorously to Ivan before darting back through the undergrowth, headed for home. When he turns back to face the water, for one last glance at Ivan, all he can see is the tips of a tail fin sinking into the clear blue of the water.
*
The rock is important, Till tells himself, staring at the flawless black pebble in his hand as he huddles under his blanket late into the night. He’s gotten bigger, so the rock is just slightly smaller than his palm now. He closes his fingers around it, its very existence proof of his and Ivan’s meeting.
He looks forward to seeing Ivan again. If only he and Ivan can write letters to each other, but there is no doubt that the paper would disintegrate when submerged. Merfolk aren’t killers. They are nice and kind and pretty, and Ivan is proof of that. Other than that time he tried biting Till in their first meeting, he’s been exceptionally gentle since then, even taking the time to learn another language just to speak with Till.
It makes him feel special. Who needs other friends when he has Ivan?
Till clutches the rock as he drifts off to sleep, hugging it to his chest. Just like this, he can imagine Ivan being right by him.
He should ask his mother about moving to Ivan’s underwater home. Maybe they’d be happier there, far away from the reaches of the evil villagers, who wouldn’t call his mother names and ostracise her for some silly rumours.