Ψευδολογος
Saturday Short Story 04
It's s so easy it’s barely any fun anymore.
The ocean stretches out before me, rippling at my feet, hanging barefoot from my perch at the end of the pier. The tide is coming in slow and lazy, the burnt golden sunrise glinting off the ripples.
I lean back against the salt-stained wooden planks of the boardwalk floor to look at the swirling clouds above, caught in a breeze that doesn’t quite reach the ground.
Her shadow crosses over my face before hers comes into view, sharp chin and curling brown hair, thrown into sharp relief against the sky.
— This is my spot — she says.
— I’m sorry, — I smile up at her from the ground — I didn’t know anyone came here this early. — The lie slips through my teeth like a reflex, and I let it linger in the morning air.
I close my eyes and the sound of the sea murmuring fills the space around me. She steps away and the morning light bleeds through my eyelids, making sparks appear against the bright white.
I feel her sit beside me and slip her sandals off, dipping her feet into the sea by my side. She sighs.
— I can leave if you want. — I say, throwing an arm over my face to shield it from the light that’s slowly getting brighter as the sun creeps higher above the horizon.
She’s quiet for a moment and I can feel her gaze on me as she thinks it over. — No, that’s okay. — she says. I feel the involuntary smirk threaten to break my serene expression. I have one of those faces, strangers trust me implicitly. It’s ironic.
— What’s your name? — she asks.
— Dolion, — It’s not quite true but it’s close enough. — what’s yours? — I open my eyes to look towards her, adjusting from the brightness, she comes into focus. A blue dress, a silver necklace, a strong profile, turning towards me to answer. I make up my mind that when I tell this story her name will be Helena.
I close my eyes again and feel the sun warm the water around my feet, sunlight soaking into my rolled-up trousers.
My imagination runs as I decide Helena’s story.
Helena is a beauty from far away, who walks the ocean shore every night to reach the pier by morning hoping to see me.
Helena is an artist and she paints living, breathing, breathtaking works of art in the same way I weave beautiful stories.
Helena can walk on water, and dance on the waves. Helena can fly.
I’m disturbed from my reverie by a gentle burbling sound and a soft presence radiating warmth next to my arm. I crack my eye open again to see a ragged-looking cat, lying next to Helena, paws and chin resting on her lap. She sits, head leaning against the wooden pillar that spears down into the water and holds the boardwalk up, fingers absentmindedly teasing through the tangles in the cat’s fur.
Helena can talk to animals.
— He’s the fisherman’s cat, — she tells me. — he likes to keep me company here.
The cat shies away from my fingers as I reach over to scratch between his flattening ears, a sharp hiss at my cold fingertips and he leaps over her lap to settle on her other side.
— Strange, — she says — he’s usually very friendly.
I watch her through half-closed eyes as she stares towards the sunset, soothing the cats nerves with slow and gentle strokes
— Jump into the water — I say.
— No — she says. She turns to look at me, uneasy, I can tell. Her brow furrows trying to get a good look at me as I prop myself up, trying to take in my eyes, but they are an elusive silver that’s hard for people to place. They reflect the light off them like sunlight off the water. I’ve been told it’s like they’re blue, like you expect them to be blue when you look at me, but something is slightly wrong. She can’t tear her gaze from mine. I watch her jaw clench as she swallows. — Why would I jump in?
— Because I asked you to.
I can tell by the way she looks at me that my voice is reverberating in her bones. It has a habit of carving out a hollow ache in people’s chests and pouring warm honey into it like a salve.
— Go on. — I say, careful not to smile too wide. I keep my teeth hidden behind softly parted lips.
She beams at me. It’s so easy.
The cat growls from somewhere deep in his chest, but she ignores it. She only has eyes for me.
She gets to her feet, intoxicated, toes leaving damp blemishes on the wood. I stand as the cat bolts away.
My hands find her waist, draped in soft blue cotton, and she giggles. — Are you ready? — I whisper into her hair and she leans into me with a sigh as my voice echoes through her again.
— Yes. — she breathes out, and I push her in.
I dive into the ripples left by her body and I don't know where I end and the water begins.
It’s a part of me, it's in my eyes, my mouth, it’s trying to force its way down my throat. My heartbeat throbs throughout my body, trying to hammer the breath out of my lungs to make me just breathe, release it all in an urgent push. I let it. Slits rip through the sides of my throat and I take in a beautiful, refreshing lungful of briny ocean.
I open my eyes, and the sun bursts through the surface of the sea, gleaming in rivulets pushing down into the depths. Glinting off her silver necklace as she sinks toward my home.