Forgive My Fins

“What do you have on your schedule today?” I ask. Although it’s Sunday on the mainland, in Thalassinia it’s the equivalent of a Monday. Our calendar is based on the lunar cycle, and Friday night’s full moon—and the two days on either side—would have been our weekend. Daddy’s Mondays are usually pretty busy.

“I have to hear a dispute about lobster grazing rights this morning,” he explains. “But otherwise my calendar is clear. Perhaps we can go shopping in the afternoon.”

“Oh. Should I go amuse myself and then come back after the hearing?” I ask. I’m not that thrilled at the idea of listening to two lobster farmers squabble about who gets to graze their herd on Horseshoe Crab Hill.

“No.” Daddy’s serious tone makes me look up. “I’d like you to participate. One day you will preside over these proceedings. You need the experience.”

Panic washes through me. I’m not ready for this. I mean, I’ve known my entire life that it is my destiny to take the throne, to rule over Thalassinia as generations of my family have done before. But I’m not ready today.

“Please.” Daddy motions me to the chair on his right. “Take the queen’s throne.”

My heart stalls and the panic ebbs away, replaced by total emptiness.

“I—” I stare at Daddy and then the smaller version of his throne. The one made for the monarch’s mate. The one made for my mom.

I can’t sit there.

Not again.

One day, when I was about eight, Daddy let me play in the throne room while he met with his council in the palace conference hall. After exploring every inch of the carved ceiling and the mosaic floor, I gathered my Oceanista dolls—the mergirl equivalent of Barbie—and settled into the queen’s throne to play fashion show. When Daddy returned and found me there, he got a sad look on his face, and his eyes sparkled royal blue to match his fins. I still hadn’t forgotten that look in his eyes when I found out, years later, that it should have been my mother’s throne.

I’ve never touched it since.

He watches me expectantly, waiting for me to take the seat by his side. I think we both know why I’m glued to my spot.

“I c-can’t,” I finally say.

Daddy’s face softens. “She would have wanted you to.” He smiles like he’s replaying a happy memory. “She would have been so proud to see you take the throne.”

If we were on land, I would probably be angry. Furious that he gets to have memories of her that make him smile. A secret smile that I can never share. On land, my temper isn’t soothed by the calming power of water. I’m much more…volatile. Underwater, my anger comes out as sorrow.

“What was she like?” I ask.

“She was…” His smile grows, and I see him drift back fully into memories. “Infectious. Always smiling, always laughing. You couldn’t be around her and not be caught up in her joy.”

I wish I had inherited that from her. Or maybe that’s something you can’t inherit—you have to learn it by watching. I never even got to see my mom smile.

“She was a remarkable woman.”

“Would you do it all over again?” I ask. “Knowing how it would end, would you still choose her?”

Daddy takes my hands from his knees and pulls me up onto his lap. I feel like I’m that eight-year-old mergirl again, playing Oceanistas on the throne. He hugs his big arms around me and tucks me in close against his chest.

“Without hesitation,” he says softly. “And I know your mother would say the same.”

Even though I can’t feel the tears, I know I’m crying. “Do you miss her?” I ask. “Do you still feel the bond, even though she’s gone?”

“Yes, I miss her,” he says, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “I gave her a piece of my heart and she took that with her.” He holds me back, making me look into his eyes. “But not because of the bond. Your mother and I never bonded.”

I jerk back. “What? Why not?”

“The situation was complicated,” he explains. “At first, I didn’t tell her the truth. As the king I had to be extremely cautious in my choice of mate, especially if she was a terraped. I wasn’t about to force her into a life so foreign to hers. Then, by the time I knew she was my true mate and told her the truth, your grandmother had fallen terminally ill. Rachel was in the Peace Corps at the time, so the care of your grandmother fell to your mother.”

The thought of Mom putting off her life to care for her dying mother brings fresh tears to my eyes. She was such a selfless person. I could never live up to that.

“In the meantime, you were born.”

“Daddy!”

“Well, just because we didn’t officially bond didn’t mean we weren’t committed and attracted to each other. We were young and in love,” he explains. “No need to be scandalized.”

Oh, but I am scandalized. That makes me accidentally kissing Quince more like a two on the scale of scandal.

“Anyway,” he continues, “shortly after your birth, your grandmother passed.” He stares out into the throne room, a blank look in his eyes. “We had everything planned. After the funeral, your mother would bring you to the beach. She and I would forge the bond, and then…well, we never got to that.”

This part of the story I already know. On the way from Grandma’s funeral, Mom got hit by a drunk driver. Some idiot who walked away without a scratch, while my mom went sailing through the windshield and into the path of an oncoming car. I was safely belted into a carrier in the backseat. Mom was the only one even injured in the five-car wreck.