The Mermaid

♡

Stumbling after Mz. Breeze gave Nora a dose of what Alice must have felt like chasing the white rabbit. Admittedly, Mz. Breeze had a leg up on the pocketwatch possessing bunny, having legs for miles and a gait wider than a canyon. Not to mention, their pace was clipped and brisk. The whole thing was torture regardless.

Eclipsed by their shadow, Nora struggled to fend off the urge to collapse. Her knees had morphed into useless pools of flesh about sixty steps back, her toes seared in her too small shoes and the soles of her feet felt like tenderized steak.

Mz. Breeze continued onward, not sparing a second glance at Nora to make sure she was okay. She was still there. Luckily, Nora was a burden not so easily shook. She persisted, despite the insistence for her to do otherwise. One of her finer qualities, she'd often argued.

Together, they'd labored down corridors, cut past an outdoor patio that more resembled an amphitheater, cafe tables and chaise loungers staged throughout the lawn, past three other skyscrapers one lazy stretch and yawn away from blotting out the sun, and across a small, wooden bridge suspended over a pond. Where a duck and swan had been butting heads over in the reeds at the pond's edge - territory dispute probably- the duck, to Nora's surprise, poised for the victory.

Nora's breaths were all but tripping over themselves now, each one having a wheezy, wet feeling about them. Had following ever exhausted her this much? Had she ever hurried to get somewhere before? Striding with purpose, determination?

Living with her parents, under their constant watch, Nora'd found herself living life for others. Reduced to the  dutiful daughter who desired to please and appease. Who suppressed what she wanted, and desired.

Gran Eloise had told her once to grab the moon, that only then would she control the tide of her fortune, but Nora had ridden the tide of others, optimistic it would drag her out to sea until she no longer saw land. As long as she went somewhere, anywhere, that was okay with her.

Moving to the Brights had been the first step in Nora's plan to reclaim her moon.

As she and Mz. Breeze stomped down another covered walkway, Nora thankful for the artificial shade, Mz. Breeze stopped. Behind them, a glass dome stood against the swath of sky, a golden track jutting from each side. It ran the length of the horizon before dipping behind the treeline and disappearing into the rest of the city.

With a hand clasped around the walkway's railing, Mz. Breeze seemed ready to choke a chicken. They radiated true Red Queen vibes, so it surprised Nora when their next words weren't an order for some axe-man to lob off her head.

"No getting lost." It was more a command than a gentle suggestion.

Nora's fingers tensed around the black folder Mr. Archer had given her.

Mz. Breeze's eyebrows raised, which were already drawn in severe angles near their hairline. The idea eyebrows could get any higher, baffled Nora. "You have Monday's itinerary?"

She nodded. "Yes, but I'm not going to--"

"And you know which car you need to board for your stop?"

Again, Nora nodded.

Mz. Breeze shuffled past. "Then I've done my job." They gazed into the horizon, their eyes not focused on any one thing. After a few seconds, they blinked, as if startled back to the present. Frowning, which seemed the natural shape their lips took, made a resurgence on their face. With a scowl that could ice over Africa, Mz. Breeze left Nora in their wake, and to her own devices.

The inside of the dome was beveled, angled slats of glass jammed together in ways that boggled her mind. The words, architectural marvel, came to mind, though Nora knew little about architecture. It felt grandiose though- the way the angled panels of glass stood flush with each other in odd ways, as though it'd been a puzzle put together by madmen.

The light struck the crowd in diffused softness, banishing worry wrinkles and dark circles. Everyone looked refreshed, even if they stood hunched, the weight of their particular situations heavy on shoulders.

Nora stood at the back of the line as she awaited the light rail with the rest of them, the folder Mr. Archer had given her, cradled in her arm. It was her golden ticket to the factory, her acceptance letter from Hogwarts. A fast pass for all her dreams to become fully actualized.

"It can't be this easy." She rocked back and forth on her heels, uneasy, as she chewed on her bottom lip instead of the gum she'd forgotten to bring.

Dreams didn't come true without hard work and lots of blood, sweat and tears, and here she was clutching a folder that promised all that and more. Maybe Mr. Archer hadn't been an angel, but a bald eagle in disguise, kindly swooping into her life and depositing the American Dream on her doorstep.

She breathed out as she eyed a spray painted 28B on the ground beside her feet. According to Mz. Breeze, this would take Nora directly to her home in Piper Row, what had been the Bronx back when the Brights had a different name. Large Orange or something like that.

For all Nora knew, Mz. Breeze had lied to her, and she'd wind up stranded in Jersey, scrounging up left behind change to pay for a smelly bus ride home.

Suddenly, a hiss of air brought the stale scents of the city to her nose, as the Halo pulled into view, looking every bit like a sleek metal predator as it snuck up its track.

Nora glanced at a row of clocks hung behind ticket machines. A quarter after, just as Mz. Breeze had promised because, according to them, and Agnes, and well, everyone, 'Seraphim wasn't in the habit of making mistakes or miscalculations.'

After a few seconds, the Halo doors opened and one at a time, humans and majjos began boarding. Nora waited her turn with bated breath, her heartbeat quickening with each step closer. She crossed the yellow line at the exact same time a bell chimed overhead; some upscale alarm alerting the passengers to the train's departure. She hurried forward when the thinning crowd allowed for it, before finally setting foot aboard the Halo.

Seats lined the walls of the spacious cabin, each the size of a loveseat, with fluffy armrests, an adjustable headrest and a panel of buttons that, as a demon youth was discovering, allowed its occupants to recline, deploy and raise the footrest, or turn on the massager.

The cushions were made of some thread count of the gods and thick as clouds that hugged Nora's curves the second she sat down. Overhead, twin vents spewed cool air onto Nora's skin, easing the burn of the summer heat and blowing the tips of her bangs outward.

She stretched, reveling in all the room she had at her disposal. The gap between seats was wide enough for her to extend her legs, while leaving enough space for the larger majjos.

A second chime echoed through the terminal as chains clinked underneath Nora's feet. The car rocked forward; the doors closing.

"Hold up!"

Golden skin, snow-white hair and a bundle of denim dove into the car. The woman doubled over, out of breath, curls concealing her face. She clutched at her knees with nails painted the colors of the rainbow.

A dwarf with very little neck rose from his seat, despite protest from a series of screens asking for passengers to, "Remain seated," as the Halo was in the process of departure. Ignoring this, the dwarf hobbled over to the late arrival, a ginger beard trailing along behind him like a tail. "Keep cutting it close, Marina, and the higher ups gonna cut your Halo privileges."

The woman straightened, blew the hair from her face and smiled. "They would never, Otto my man. I'm too important."

Curls frothed around the sides of her heart-shaped face like sea foam. She had full cheeks. A delicate mouth. A nose too wide for her face that worked to dispel the symmetry of her features. Eyes the color of the Pacific swirled with emerald and turquoise. There was a clarity to them threatening to drag Nora into their depths.

The car echoed with the man's loud bark, freeing Nora of the woman's enchantment. He clapped her on her back, all palm, warmth and good intentions. "We're all just cogs in 'em machines," he said, winding a lock of beard hair around a finger as thick as a breakfast sausage.

The woman, who he'd called Marina, jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger. The nail a bright sunshine yellow. "Yeah, but I'm the special-est, most important cog."

A low rumble came from somewhere behind Nora. Some demon behind her snorted, before saying, "A cleaner," the words containing all the snark of an adolescent but absent of any reason, "thinking they're important to Seraphim."

So she was a cleaner? What was funny about that?

Did demons not use toilet paper to wipe their behinds? Were they above such things as clean carpeting and empty trash bins? Crystal-clear windows and stocked coffee creamers? They weren't human, so maybe basic human necessities didn't apply to them, but Nora needed her coffee and butt paper. Anyone who supplied such services day in, day out, was no target for a cheap jab.

"Hi."

At the address, so near to Nora's ear, she swiveled her head around. The woman stood in the aisle, bent over, a pearl necklace suspended in the space between them, face inches from Nora's.

Up close, Nora made out her honeyed eyelashes, the mole hidden under her right eye, and a small grouping of freckles trailing along the bridge of her nose and up the ridges of her cheekbones. She pointed to the empty seat on Nora's left.

Nora scrambled to move her briefcase and make room so she could sit. The woman gave Nora a thin smile as she wedged a seashell-shaped purse between their seats and plopped down. The world outside blurred, blues and beiges intermingling. When had the Halo left the station? Nora hadn't felt a thing.

"I'm Marina." The woman, Nora's now co-passenger, outstretched a freckled hand. "Afraid I'm full, though." Nora eyed her hand, fixated on the amount of color one could achieve given such a small canvas. Marina's smile faltered. "That's a harbor joke since my name is-anyway, you're new. Recent hire or soon-to-be employee?"

Nora hefted the folder, not-so-subtly snubbing Marina's offered hand. "Soon-to-be employee." Marina nodded along as though following the beats of a children's storybook. "But I've decided not to accept," Nora added. "It's all too-" Her fingers glided over the folder.

Marina placed her hand down at her side, then leaned over, opened her purse, and pulled out a hair clip that looked like green spaghetti. She clipped a large section of her hair back behind her ear. A pearl earring, matching her necklace, dangled from her ear, accentuating the curve of her neck. It should have been illegal to be so pretty. And so breezy. This woman acted like she didn't have a care in the world. "What department?"

"Huh?"

"What department did you apply to?" Marina pointed at the file, then at her hair clip. "It's kelp. Or it's supposed to be. My niece made it at craft camp."

Nora must have been staring. She gulped at the realization, heat spreading through her cheeks. "Relocations."

"Not bad. Entry-level. Good pay. Everyone there empties their own trash bins." Marina leaned in further, her skin smelling of sun-tan lotion and sea salt. "You can learn a lot about someone through their trash and trash-related habits."

She motioned toward the demons behind them. "Take them, for example. The Morningstars. They're design maestros. Geniuses with their work. Lazy jerkwads when it comes to emptying their trash bins." She rolled her eyes. "Always leave their bins overflowing. Cigarette cartons, takeout containers, candy wrappers." She glanced at the smaller of the demons, a kid maybe, who was fingering the wheel of the truck stitched to the front of his shirt. "Like him though," she nodded his way, "name's Damien. When I'm putting the toys away in the daycare, he always offers me his chocolate milk, though I don't think it's because he likes me. Think he dislikes chocolate milk and is using me as a means to an end. Don't mind, really. I've discovered recently, I happen to love chocolate milk."

Marina paused, eyes boring into Nora's face, as though she'd forgotten she'd been talking to her. "My bad," she pushed away, burrowing into her own seat, "I don't even know your name and here I am babbling like a brook. And they never know when to shut it."

"I'm-I'm Nora."

"Nora." Marina mused over the word as though she could taste each letter. Her smile widened. She must have liked their flavor. "Nice. Very pun-proof. Any nicknames?"

Nora rubbed her hands. "None that I can repeat in polite society."

At this, Marina's smile burst apart, like a star going supernova, separating her head into two halves as laughter poured from her mouth. "I like that," Marina said. "Creating an air of mystery around you. Keeps people guessing." She leaned forward and sniffed the air. "So what are you? Dark skin, brown eyes." Her eyes alighted. "Fae of the Autumn court?" She knitted her brows and waved the assumption away as though it stunk. "You don't smell like spice or wet leaves," she continued. "And you're wearing the wrong colors. A fae of Autumn wouldn't be caught dead in spring pastels. Think of the heresy."

"I'm-I'm human."

"Ah!" Marina clapped her hands together. "Makes sense. You're quite pretty, regardless."

So brazen. So easily said. Words fell from her mouth at an alarming rate, like rainfall during tsunami season. Nora gulped as all blood drained into her shoes. She'd never been complimented so effortlessly. So sincerely.

"I'm a Merfolk." Nora's eyes widened. Marina smiled. "Legs on loan." She pointed to a small, black circle affixed to the thigh of her trouser leg. "Seraphim tech. Allowing us to walk on land without waiting for a witch's curse or tantalizing man to tempt us to the surface."

She stuck out her chin, pouted and fingered the device. "I don't think a man exists that could make me give up the sea. Maybe if he were a billionaire who piloted helicopters and flew to Italy on the weekends, I'd think about it. But he'd also have to make the world's best crepes and speak fluent trout-" She giggled. "that's a very hard fish-dialect to master, by the way. Lots of rolled 'r's and 't's sounding like 'v's. People think trout are dumb because they eat them, but they're actually very sophisticated. Everything's a black-tie affair with them, and to swim in one of their schools? Invite-only. I never made the cut."

She glanced at Nora again, like she'd forgotten she was talking to someone. Nora got the sense Marina engaged in conversation to keep the silence from seeping in. "I've come across a few women who I'd give up the ocean-life for. But only in passing. Never talked to them. Get nervous easily and then end up babbling-"

"Like a brook?" Nora arched her eyebrow.

Marina's mouth puckered like the lips of a large mouthed bass. Then her smile returned. She flushed suddenly, as if stricken by the flu, her cheeks and the one ear visible a deep crimson. "Like I'm doing right now." Her gaze settled on her hands, where she ran an orange-colored thumb over her other knuckles.

Silence pressed in on them from all sides. As Nora felt it closing in, Marina's gaze was on her again and she was smiling. "You should take the job."

"What?"

"You should take the job. Dive right in. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I drown?"

"Or you float down that river toward success. And maybe discover something you love. Like chocolate milk." Marina grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Well, this is my stop," she got to her feet and shrugged, "guess it's yours too."

What? How could that be? The Halo's speed was unparalleled, sure, but Piper Row was on the other side of the city, in the opposite direction of Seraphim's main campus. Despite Nora's disbelief, though, the Halo crawled to a stop shortly after Marina had gotten up. A few seconds later and the doors were opening. The scuffed brick facades and graffitied streets of Piper Row greeted her.

"Hope to see you again, Nora," Marina said. "I promise not to monopolize the conversation next time." She ran fingers across her chest and crossed her heart. "Sometimes, I'm a real dolphin. I try not to be, but you're cute and I fluster easily." Nora's mouth fell open. Marina laughed. "You're not used to compliments, what a shame." She bit her lip, her eyes darkening. "Most people deserve praise in at least one way or another."

She waved before being swallowed by the departing crowd, Nora left in her wake, feeling like she'd experienced the world's worst and strangest tsunami.

#whataday #babbleonbrooks #troutintophats

Word Count: 7,305