Merman 2

Eddie coughed as dust swirled in the stale air.

He tugged the white sheets from the furniture one by one,

sending little storms of gray dusts into the shafts of light filtering

through the tall windows.

The place smelled of damp wood and forgotten years.

Dave stepped in, phone still in his hand, his face brighter than the room deserved.

“Guess what,” he said, almost breathless. “Colonel Doug just called.

He’s interested in seeing the property. He’ll bring his wife tomorrow.

We might already have a sale.”

Eddie lowered the sheet he was folding. “That fast?”

“Faster if I get the listing live tonight.”

Dave moved closer, already typing with one thumb.

“But first I need to talk to the lawyer—there are deed details to iron out.

Can you help me with photos? I need something quick for socials,

then the company site. After that, I’ll start calling contacts.”

Eddie smiled faintly, nodding. “That means we don’t have to stay two weeks.”

Dave leaned in and kissed him, soft but brief.

“After this closes, Spain. Sunny Spain. Madrid, Barcelona. I’ll take you everywhere.”

But Eddie pulled back with a sigh.

“Dave… you know I came on this trip to be with you.

To spend some time—just us. Not to go on some

fantasy holiday. And Spain…” His voice faltered.

Dave closed his eyes. He already knew.

“This is our last trip together.”

Silence pressed between them.

“When we get back,” Dave said quietly, “you’ll move out of the apartment. In with Laura. I get it.

But I thought maybe… a change of place, a new city…

maybe we’d see each other differently.

Maybe we could fall in love again.”

Eddie hugged him, tight and desperate.

“We never fought, Dave. Our three years together… they’re the best years I’ve ever had.

But I’m not the guy for you. I thought I was. Back then, it felt right.

But Laura’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father.

I can’t undo that, and I won’t.

Your investment in our venture doesn’t buy me staying away from her.

I have to start my family. With her.”

A single tear broke free from Dave’s eye. It fell soundlessly to the dusty floorboards.

Far below, the ocean trembled.

The merman felt it. That tear—wasted, sinking into wood instead of water.

His hunger surged, and he rushed upward.

Through the black canyons, past coral tombs and shipwreck bones, h

e propelled himself with fury. By the time he reached the inner lagoon,

the air above was bruised with twilight.

He circled the warped wooden deck where the house jutted toward the water,

its planks bleached by sun and salt. That’s where he saw them. Dave clutching Eddie.

Eddie gently pulling away.

Dave slumping against the wall, still crying.

The merman’s throat tightened. Such beauty in grief. And those tears… wasted.

Then Dave did something unexpected.

He drifted to the edge of the deck, sat down, and let his legs dangle.

One foot grazed the water.

The merman moved closer, gliding just beneath the surface.

Slowly, carefully, until he rose into the shimmer of the moonlight. Their eyes met.

For an instant, the world stilled.

The merman’s face was unearthly, luminous skin flickering as if woven with scales of light.

His lips parted, a whisper escaping with the hush of waves.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

Dave’s chest rose and fell. Then, softly: “You’re just a dream. Why would I be afraid of dreams?”

“I’m not a dream,” the merman said. “I’m real.”

Before Dave could react, cold fingers gripped his ankle. In a blink he was yanked downward, water closing over him, the depths swallowing his scream.

Then—“Dave? Dave!”

Eddie’s hands were on his shoulders, shaking him.

Dave gasped, eyes wide, lungs aching as though he had drowned in sleep.

He blinked. He was still on the deck, his cheeks damp with tears.

“What time is it?” His voice cracked.

Eddie checked his phone. “Late. I should go. Laura’s waiting.”

Dave’s throat tightened. “You could stay. There are plenty of empty rooms.”

Eddie’s gaze lingered, softening with something like pity.

He saw the sadness, the desperation in Dave’s eyes. But he shook his head.

“I can’t. Laura checks in. And besides, we agreed—this is business.

You’re here to sell, I’m here for an appointment with Thom Callum.”

Dave frowned. “Who?”

“The author,” Eddie said, with that impatient edge he got when repeating himself.

“The guy who wrote the book about the merman’s tear.

I told you about him in the car? He lives around here.

He promised to sign my copy—well, digitally, since I only have the e-book.

Laura’s already connected with him.

He’s interested in some investment portfolios.”

Dave stared. Eddie was already slipping away from him, tethered to Laura,

to the future that no longer included them.

“You’ll be okay, right?” Eddie asked.

Dave only nodded.

Eddie hugged him once more, brief and perfunctory, then turned and left.

Dave stayed where he was, listening to the echo of footsteps retreating through the old house, his eyes drifting back to the dark water below.

And beneath, unseen, the merman lingered.

Watching.

Waiting.