@brucewaynepinupzine leftover sales are open so we get to post our pieces. It was tremendous fun working on this and getting to participate in a Zine. Thank you so much for the opportunity.
I've officially named this "Raw Fish & Rehabilitation". Though my runner up name was "One fish, two fish, bite fish, you fish" lol
I'll be adding "chapter" links so it's easier to read. anyway. Enjoy!
Read Chapter 1 here
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After that, they find a rhythm.
Soap comes in every morning with a bucket of fish and a running commentary, and the mer watches him from the far side of the pool like he’s deciding whether Soap is dinner, danger, or something worse.
The fish goes untouched until Soap takes his ridiculous bite.
Every. time.
“Och ye wee scunner,” Soap tells him the following week, gagging through a mouthful of salmon. “Can’t believe you have me doing this for you”.
The mer only blinks in response.
Soap chooses to believe it’s in remorse.
---
It takes three weeks for Soap to learn more about the mer. It’s a normal day, Soap chattering on about some story or another at the end of the dock, when the mer makes his way all the way over, head breaking the surface closer than he’s ever been.
Soap startles so hard he almost drops his laptop in the water.
“Christ, ye oversized fish, don’t do that to a man.” Soap puts a hand over his racing heart, “I almost dropped my-”
“Ghost” the mer says.
Wait—the mer says something.
“...What?” Soap asks, very eloquently.
“My name,” the mer says slowly, the words rasping out, like a knife over sand. “is Ghost”.
Soap stares at him for a long moment. The mers—Ghost's whole head is above water, his face visible for the first time since arriving. Like a man seeing a sunset for the first time, Soap takes in Ghost's features. From his strong brow, dark brown eyes, sharp nose, and full mouth, to the scars across his lips and cheek, a particularly deep one cutting across his brow and disappearing into his hair line.
“Ghost,” Soap's smile is radiant, as he meets Ghost's eyes. “It suits ye”.
---
“The infection’s finally passed. Clean readings for the past three days show that, but his swimming’s not improved,” Price says, not even looking up from the paperwork at his desk.
“Naw, he’s nae gettin’ any stronger. I need to get a closer look at him,” Soap replies, brows furrowed in thought. “He told me his name the other day. I tell ye that?”
Price looks at him in shock. “Really now? That’s a surprise. So, what is it?”
“Ghost.”
“Suits him.”
“Aye,” Soap laughs. “That’s what I said.”
Soap claps his hands, standing from his chair. “I’ll start getting in, get 'im used tae me bein' in his water. Then hopefully, I'll get him tae let me gie him the once-over, sort oot a PT plan for him.”
“Sounds good, Soap. He’s in good hands.”
Price gives him a warm look, and Soap carries it with him as he leaves the office.
---
Soap is pulling on his flippers, sitting at the edge of the dock, when he sees Ghost appear again, head popping fully out of the water a few feet away.
“How's it gaun, Ghost? Wee bit o' a change today. I’ll be getting in wit’ ye.”
Ghost sinks in the water a few inches, brows furrowing.
“Don’t you worry, Ghosty, I'll no be comin' tae get ye. Just gonnae take a wee swim, eh?” Soap reassures, securing the final clip on his flippers. With a push off the dock, Soap slips into the water.
Ghost disappears from view.
Trying not to let his disappointment show, Soap paddles around the pool. Ghost doesn’t reappear.
The next few days go much the same.
Soap slips into the water. Ghost disappears. Soap swims around, pretending not to notice the dark shadow getting closer each day.
By the third day, Ghost keeps his head above water as he follows Soap at a distance.
By the fourth day, Ghost is close enough to make out the colors of his scales, the shine of his blonde hair as it flops across his forehead.
By the end of the week, everything changes.
Soap is making his normal rounds in the pool, swimming around, diving underwater and paddling through the vegetation. Ghost is close behind, always just out of reach, but closer than they’ve ever been. He likely hasn’t spoken again since he first shared his name, but Soap is sure he’ll get him to open up again someday.
Soap hooks one arm around the ladder as he unclasps the buckles on one of his fins. He pulls it off and plops it on the deck.
Then something brushes along his foot.
Soap goes very still.
Not a fish, and not near any vegetation.
Fingers.
Soap feels another cold, careful brush against his toes—then along the delicate arch of his foot
Unable to hold back, Soap flinches at the tickling feeling and looks down. Ghost is below the dock, pale hair drifting around his face as he stares, transfixed, at Soap’s bare foot.
“They’re a funny thing, aye?” Soap slowly unclasps his other fin, throwing it up on the deck next to the first. He settles one foot on a step of the ladder, and wiggles the other out towards Ghost. “Human feet aren’t made for swimmin’, so we slap on fins tae gie us a hand.”
Ghost doesn’t reach back out again. Hesitantly, he makes his way around to the side of the dock and surfaces.
“I’ve never seen ‘em so close before.” Ghost's voice is scratchy again, like it’s rough from disuse. “Sorry, I–um didn’t mean to startle you”
“Nae, yer a'right. Just kittled me a wee bit.” Soap clears his throat.
Ghost’s head tilts as his brows furrow. “English, please.”
Soap laughs, “It means tickled, ya bawbag.” He hauls himself up the ladder, sitting on the edge as he towels off his hair.
Ghost doesn’t leave. “Why are you swimming”
“Why not? Swimming’s fun, innit?”
Ghost's eyes narrow, mouth pulling down in a frown.
“Nae, you’re right, I do have an ulterior motive. Need you comfortable with me tae get ye feeling better. I want to examine you–would you let me?” Soap keeps his voice steady and looks away as he talks, his heart warming with hope.
Ghost doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t move away either. Soap considers it a win.
“It’d be right in the water! Nae need to go anywhere else. I just need tae see what’s holding ye back from swimmin’ right. I can see ye favor one side and I’d like to help. I’m here tae help.”
Soap pauses, before speaking up again. “It doesnae have to be today. Maybe tomorrow, after breakfast?”
“Will you have needles?”
“Och no, avoid those myself when I can.” Soap waves him off, “Nae, it’ll just be you and me in the water, givin' yer fins a wee keek, see what's troublin' ye. Just a wee touch—nae even that if ye'd rather no.”
Ghost is silent for a long time. Long enough Soap starts to gather his stuff, determined not to pressure Ghost.
“I’ll do it.”
Soap’s head snaps up, eyes brightening with excitement. “Ye mean it? That's pure dead brilliant, that.” Ghost isn’t meeting his eyes, body turned away.
“Ghost,” Soap waits until he looks over. “Thank you,” he says, looking him in the eyes.
Grabbing his things, Soap makes his way from the dock, calling out behind himself. “Dinnae fret yersel', ye'll no be regrettin' it! I’ll be back in the morra. Goodnight Ghost!”
Soap watches as Ghost huffs a breath before diving under the surface. Smiling to himself, Soap heads inside and gets ready to go home. Tomorrow was going to be an important day.
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