Marine, the Ocean City Part 1

“Can you tell me about Marine?” Mint asks Asa.

“Well… It’s a port city and it’s really close to DuBois. DuBois is the ‘Black utopia’ of Nue and Marine has a mostly black population as well, so people sometimes consider it the ‘second Black utopia’ of Nue.”

“What’s Black?”

“That’s hard to answer and I’m not entirely certain myself… It was a race on Earth, but it's just an ethnicity on Nue. They faced a lot of oppression before coming here. Um, maybe not on the whole planet… but in a lot of places?” He knows very little about this topic and it seems pretty convoluted. In the history he’s read, nobody could really decide what Black meant, and they kept changing it too.

“What’s a race?”

Asa purses his lips and scrunches his brows as he focuses, then gives up. “You know what? Don’t worry about it.”

“But – “

Asa cuts him off, pretending he’s just really excited about these fun facts. “Did you know they’re one of the happiest cities on Nue? And they have the largest population of Toki Pona speakers…”

☼

The streets of Marine are jam packed with people. They seem to be tourists, carrying an assortment of touristy things, like travel cases, umbrellas, city maps, and beach towels.

Asa makes a long suffering sigh. “I can’t believe a total of eleven hotels have been entirely booked.”

“My feet hurt.” Says Mint. “We keep having to take detours because of all the dang people.”

Luna marches along enthusiastically, stars in her eyes. “Well, being outside isn’t so bad! There’s so much cool stuff out here.”

“There’s boats!” She gestures to the boats in the docks.

“And fish!” She gestures to smelly fish hung on a line, with flies buzzing around them.

“And quaint old people!” She gestures to an open window. Inside is an old man reading a newspaper in the bath while scrubbing his back with a loofah on a stick.

He sees her sparkling face as she peers in, then lets out a haggard scream and slams the shutters.

“Those are all normal things.” Mint says, unimpressed.

“Haven’t you seen those before?” Says Asa. “They shouldn’t be groundbreaking.”

“Anything can be groundbreaking when you wander, free as a bird, in the beautiful outdoors!” Luna waxes poetic, fingers interwoven and cheeks rosy.

“She’s liking this too much.” Mint says.

Asa’s shoulders slump. “Well, we’re going to have to stay in the great outdoors if we can’t find a hotel soon.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Says a playful stranger with dark skin and big hands. “Everybody books their rooms weeks in advance. Every hotel is full.”

“What do you mean every hotel is full?!” Asa snaps, exasperated. The man puts his hands in front of him as if to say “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger” and walks away.

“What are we gonna do now?” Mint whines hopelessly.

“You can stay with me.” Offers a friendly voice. It belongs to a young girl, no older than her teens. She has brown skin and fluffy afro puffs. Her denim overall dress is embroidered with colorful flowers and she wears jewelry with chunky wooden beads.

There’s a woven basket in her hands. “My name’s Makena.”

☼

The girl leads them downhill on a white stone path. Mint sees three seashells in her basket.

“What are those for?” He asks.

“I’m going to paint them and sell them at the festival.”

“Festival?” Luna and Mint ask in unison.

“The Festival of Festivals! There’s music and food… Everybody wears colorful masks and there’s giant lanterns in a ton of different shapes.” She says. “People buy a lot of souvenirs, so I’m going to sell shells.”

“That sounds great!” Says Luna. “When is it?”

“The day after tomorrow. People have been flooding in since last week.”

“We appreciate it, but why are you letting us stay with you? We’re strangers.” Asa asks.

“I believe the best way to spread the Good Word is through action.”

☼

It’s evening. Everyone sits at the long, wooden table in the dining room of Makena’s beachside cottage. It’s the first room from the entrance. A direct view of the ocean is outside the window.

Makena’s mother walks to the table from the kitchen. She wears an ankle length dress with ornate print and a natela wrapped around her head. She serves everyone a bowl of red stew.

Asa graciously accepts. “Thank you, uh…”

She smiles. “You can call me Befati.”

He smiles back. “Befati.”

Befati sits with her own bowl and starts to pray. Makena leans over to Asa and the other guests. “We do a prayer before dinner. You don’t have to, but you can if you want.”

To be polite, Asa, Luna, and Mint choose to pray, clasping their hands and closing their eyes. Mint peeks through one eye a few times.

Befati finishes. “Okay, let’s eat.” She says.

Luna takes a big spoonful, then puts a hand to her cheek in delight. “Mmm! This is amazing. You could be a chef!”

She turns to Asa and Mint. “Right guys?”

Both are red-faced and sweating. “Guys? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Says Makena, worried. “I didn’t tell you that Ethiopian food can be really spicy!”

“It shouldn’t be…” Says Befati. “I held back on the berbere.”

Mint and Asa don’t respond, just pant.

“Guys?” Luna says, concerned. Asa harshly plants a hand on her shoulder.

“Water…” He rasps, sweating a waterfall with bloodshot eyes. Mint, who’s sitting next to him, looks just as bad.

“I’ll get the pitcher!” Says Makena, dashing to the kitchen. Before she gets back, Asa and Mint each pour their entire glass of water in their mouth.

It offers no relief, because it evaporates instantly as it makes contact with their burning hot tongues.

“Milk will work better.” Befati says, trying to help. No one listens. Makena arrives with the pitcher.

Asa and Mint fight over it, each pouring it directly onto their tongue, steam billowing from their lips, before the other snatches it and does the same. They repeat this until it’s empty.

Asa stands, tears gushing from his eyes. “Stwilw t hwah! Nee mo wawah!” (Translation: Still too hot! Need more water!)

He runs out the door and Mint follows. Both duck their heads into the ocean.

After guzzling gallons of saltwater, they re-emerge, thin tendrils of steam still flowing from their cooling heads. They’re met with a stunning sight.

A mermaid sits on a rock, a glittering silhouette beautifully backlit by the full moon. Time passes in slow motion as her wet hair swings in the breeze.

As soon as they see her, she’s gone, disappearing into the dark, inky water. Asa and Mint look at each other, then make a b-line for the door.

Asa throws it open, looking deathly serious. “There’s a mermaid out there!”

Mint nods in confirmation, also deathly serious.

“We know.” Befati says. Asa almost falls over.

“What?!”

“They like coming out around this time.” Says Makena, taking a bite of her cake (they figured Asa and Mint would come back sometime and went ahead with dessert).

“You’re used to seeing mermaids out there?”

“Well… The original legend of the mermaid started when sailors saw a manatee breastfeeding on a rock and mistook it for a woman, so it could be anything, but there’s still a lot we don’t know about the Northern Sea.”

“We haven’t discovered all the creatures in there, so I want to believe it’s a mermaid.” She stares out the window, lost in thought.

☼

A couple play in the ocean past sunset, a woman in a pink bikini and a man in blue swim trunks. Something drags the man under the water with frightening speed. She panics, feeling around in the water and calling his name but finding nothing.

⟡

Luna, Asa, and Mint are all sleeping, tucked in with cozy pajamas. Makena walks on the beach with her basket.

“There’s been no seashells since the tourists started coming here.” She says, disappointed. “Even at night, there’s next to nothing.”

She sees a figure at the edge of the water. It’s short, wide, and lumpy, kind of like a sitting deer. As her eyes focus, she makes out something long and spiney.

Ribs? Sharp, broken ribs pointing up at the sky. Once one part is identified, the others start flooding in in succession.

Skin. Short brown hair below. Long, black hair above. A torn neck. Nothing where a face should be.

A mangled arm and shoulder. Blue swim trunks. Back to the mop of wet, long, black hair. It belongs to a woman, who hunches over the body.

She has a fish tail instead of legs and clammy, blue skin with veins running beneath. Meat tears from bones as she raises her head. The flesh hangs from rows of long, sharp teeth.

The mermaid’s eyes are perfectly round and beady — milky white, like a dead fish. They look her directly in the eyes.

Makena’s scream tears through the night.