Sophie

I chew my lip as I sit in the chair beside Riley’s bed and watch as Lewis snips through the last of the bandages, pulling them free and allowing them to flutter to the floor in a small pile to be swept up later.

“It feels a little strange to have that thing off after so long,” Riley comments as she shifts on the mattress and indicates to the support belt dangling over the rail of the bed. The other is still wrapped tightly around her ribs, but is due to come off in a few minutes.

“Well, how does your hip feel?” I press. “Any pain at all?”

Riley quirks an eyebrow. “I have not felt any pain the past couple of days, you know that,” she replies.

“I'm just making sure,” I say. “I don’t want to send you out there if you haven’t fully healed.”

“And really, you can understand our concern,” Lewis pipes up. “It has only been a little over a month and you seem fully healed. I wouldn’t have expected to be giving you the okay for at least another month or two. Your healing rate is phenomenal and unbelievable.”

Riley snorts and waves a hand. “It is no big deal. I have always healed fast; I have had to in order to survive.”

“You say that as though you have control over it,” Lewis states.

Riley grins, flashing her fangs, and shrugs. “That would be ridiculous Lewis,” she scoffs, winking.

“Riley, stop teasing Lewis,” I scold, smothering a laugh.

She rolls her eyes and tucks one of her bangs back behind her ear; a pointless action because it merely falls back into place, brushing against her chin the second she moves her hand away. “Of course I have no control over it; it has just been very helpful in keeping me alive. It has always been pointed out that I tend to heal more rapidly than most, but I have no idea why it is that way and I certainly have no control over it.”

“Put your arms up,” Lewis orders. Riley lifts her arms in the air and rests them on her skull as Lewis begins to poke at the support belt around her ribs. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs. I watch Riley’s chest expand within the restraint of the belt as she complies with Lewis’s request. “Alright, breathe out now.” Moving behind her, Lewis fiddles with the belt. With a loud snap, it opens and he tugs it away from her body.

Riley brings her arms up to hug her chest. “It feels good,” she practically purrs. “To breathe freely, without pain or restraint.” A heavy sigh escapes her and she pushes forward, curling her tail up under her.

“Well, I’m glad you're no longer in any pain, but I want to take you for some x-rays, just to be sure that you’ve healed fully,” Lewis decides.

Riley sighs and rolls her eyes once more. “Must I? You have already done those before.”

“Riley, that was weeks ago,” Lewis protests.

“Besides,” I add. “You lie on a bed, nothing new, only difference is that pictures are taken.”

“Traitor,” she growls. “How come you are taking his side?”

“She’s dating me,” Lewis answers, rather gleefully.

“That has absolutely nothing to do with it,” I retort. “I just want to make sure that Riley heals okay. Riley, honey, just do the x-rays; make the puppy happy. Otherwise he’ll whimper to me about it all night long.”

“He is a little whiney,” Riley agrees with a laugh.

“And standing right here,” Lewis grumbles. “I don’t know why I'm bothering with you two; I only wind up being insulted.”

“Oh, you know we love you,” I say. I cup the far side of his face and tug him closer to plant a kiss on his stubble covered cheek. “And Riley is going to get the x-rays done, right Riley?”

The teen flicks her tailfins out and forces a smile. “Of course. But only if they are done quickly and I can get up out of this bed right away after,” she bargains.

“The only reason they took so long last time was because you wouldn’t stop fidgeting,” I point out.

“And no more making faces and shifting out of position right before the picture is taken,” Lewis adds. “You know that doesn’t help. Just sit still for five minutes. Think you can handle that?”

Riley tilts her head towards Lewis; her eyes narrowed, eyebrows raised, and she lashes her tailfins. “Of course,” she counters. “Honestly Lewis, why you have so little faith in me, I will never know. What did I ever do to you that would make it so difficult to trust me?” Riley’s tongue pokes out between her teeth as she teases the sea vet.

“You pipe down,” he warns. “Before I decide I want to run some tests and take some blood samples too.”

“Break it up you two,” I intervene. “Lewis, just do your x-rays and be done with it. Riley, don’t be bothersome. Just do as you're told and it will be over quickly. Then we can take you outside.”

Riley’s eyes brighten at my words, the start of a smile twitching at her lips. She nods. “Alright,” she agrees, flopping back on the bed. “What are we waiting for then?”

Lewis rolls his eyes and I can’t help but chuckle at her antics. “Bring her back down here when you’ve finished okay?” I request, my attention turning to Lewis. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Alright,” he agrees. “I should only be about ten or fifteen minutes. Then she’s all yours.”

I lean back in my chair as Lewis drapes a sheet over Riley’s body, covering her tail and torso. He tugs the bed into motion, pulling it out into the hall and spinning it around to wheel down the hall to do the x-rays. Once they’re gone, the door clicking shut behind them, my shoulders slump and a sigh escapes me. My heart clenches painfully as I will time to stop. I have grown immensely fond of the willful teen over the past six weeks and I'm far from ready to say goodbye.

Riley fidgets in her seat as I tuck a blanket around her tail, fussing with it until I’m certain all of the sandy scales are hidden beneath it. It took some convincing to get her to agree to pull in her extra fins, since they would be awkward to hide. “Put your arms straight up in the air,” I instruct, finally moving away from the blanket. Riley does as asked, lifting her thin but muscled tan arms up above her head. I shake out a simple navy blue shirt; the rescue team logo printed the back and the right chest pocket. I pull it over her head, ignoring her startled grunt at being swallowed by the fabric. I help guide her arms and head through the correct holes and tug it down over her torso, hiding away the prominent scales on her chest.

“This feels strange,” she mutters. “Why do I have to wear it?”

“Because you don’t want to draw attention to yourself,” I reply. “You know that people would not react well to your tail.”

“You did not have a problem with it,” she argues.

“No, you're right, I didn’t, but many people would seek to exploit you. Not to mention the fact that people react differently in different situations and numbers. I met you in a life or death situation; I didn’t have time to think about how to react. Tourists would go nuts, especially in a crowd. Trust me, Riley, you don’t want the attention,” I explain.

“I know,” she agrees. “I just do not like this fabric thing. It itches.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I decide. “Are you ready?”

Her eyes shine with excitement. “Yes,” she confirms. “Let us go now.”

“Just make sure you keep your tail still, especially your fins,” I remind. “And don’t show anyone your fangs.” I move behind her and grip the handles of the wheelchair, pulled out from the equipment room where we got the recovery bed. Riley rests her elbows on the armrests and continues to fiddle with her shirt. “Just leave it alone,” I tell her. “You’ll forget it’s even there if you don’t think about it.”

Riley sighs as I begin to push the chair down the hall. “I suppose so.”

I continue down the hall, keeping an eye on the girl sitting in front of me. Her head turns left and right ever so slightly as she takes in her surroundings. The lavender walls lack any pictures or anything of interest, but it’s probably new enough to be interesting to the girl born and bred in the outdoors. “How are you feeling?” I ask finally, breaking the silence.

“I am fine,” Riley responds. “Why?”

I shrug, and then remember she can’t actually see me behind her. “I'm just making sure. I know you said that you haven’t been in any pain this week, but this is the first time you’ve actively moved around in over a month. I just want to make sure you aren’t straining yourself.”

“I am fine,” Riley repeats, but her tone has softened. “Just eager to be outside again. I miss the sky and the water.”

“Well, I haven’t been outside yet today, but it’s supposed to be a bright and sunny day,” I say. “So, I know that you are probably eager to take to the ocean, but I’m going to have to ask you to hold off and be patient. I want to know what Lewis thinks of the results of the x-rays. I also want to make sure that you are okay to go, to make sure that your muscles haven’t stiffened from lack of movement. We’ll take you swimming somewhere private today and make sure you won't be hindered out there. If all goes well; you can leave tomorrow.”

Surprisingly, Riley nods. “Okay,” she agrees. “That makes sense. I can wait.”

I frown, having been expecting a fight over it, but don’t comment. We reach the elevator and only wait a few seconds after pushing the button for the doors to slide open.

“What is this thing?” Riley asks as I wheel her inside and press my thumb against the button that will take us to the main floor.

“An elevator,” I reply just as the doors slide closed with a soft huff of air. “It’s for moving up and down floors.”

“Floors?”

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. “Okay, umm, well a floor is what we were just on; a floor of a building. So you know the hall and the rooms and stuff that we passed?”

“Yes.”

“That was a floor. And there is another two above it, each with their own halls and rooms and layouts,” I explain.

“Oh.” Riley tilts her head back to look up. “It won’t collapse on us, will it?”

“That would be very unlikely,” I reply. Riley jumps in her seat when the elevator dings, heartbeats before the doors slide open to reveal the main floor.

Riley leans forward in her seat as I push her out of the elevator. “Wow,” she whispers, her head moving to take in the entirety of the mostly open floor. Large, sliding glass doors lead the way to the outdoors, allowing sunlight to flood into the room. The walls have been painted a bright ocean blue, with massive stencilled orcas, giant squid, stingrays, and sharks, all appearing to glide through the painted ocean coating the walls. A large tough pool sits in the center of the room, home to starfish, sea slugs and snails, horseshoe crabs, and a small, friendly stingray.

An adjacent tank holds white spotted bamboo sharks. The main floor of the research and rescue building is open to guests, so it’s been lavishly decorated with exciting and interactive things for the guests, and their children, to explore. Above our heads is the massive skeleton of a female sperm whale. A large brochure cart sits beside the main help desk, and a gift shop is tucked into the far corner, shelves full of stuffed dolphins, toy sharks, animal animated swimsuits and flutter boards, shells, and jewellery. The games corner is opposite us and the rest of the wall space is taken by glass viewing panels that allow guests to see into the recovery tanks of animals to be released.

“This is really neat,” Riley says. “What is all of this stuff?”

I proceed to take her on a tour of the ground floor, happily explaining and answering all of her demanding questions. Riley drags her fingers lightly over the stencils on the walls as we pass by. She wiggles them in the water of the bamboo shark tank where she coos softly in a language that I couldn’t hope to understand or even imitate; it stirs the sharks into a lively motion, darting around and becoming far more social than I’ve ever seen them.

“Would you be mad if I ate this?” she asks as she hefts one of the larger sea slugs into the air.

“Yes,” I respond. “Put it back.”

Riley grins and shoves the slimy black creature into my face. “Do you want it then?”

“Absolutely not,” I retort. “That’s disgusting. Riley put it back before it dies.”

Riley laughs and tosses her head, hair flying, but gently replaces the slug into the sandy pool.

“Are you getting hungry?” I ask.

Riley shrugs and shakes her head. “No, I am okay,” she replies. “And I did not really wish to eat it; I only wanted to see how you would react.”

I sigh and smack the back of her head, careful to keep the motion soft and teasing. “You are getting to be quite the pain,” I inform her.

“Good,” she counters. “Then I am succeeding. Can we go outside now?”

“I have half a mind to take you back downstairs,” I threaten.

Riley twists in the chair to look up at me, her eyes widened and slightly watery, while her lips part with silent hurt.

My smile slips and I lean forward slightly. “Riley, I was only teasing you, of course we’re going to go out-” I break off as her lips twist into a mocking grin, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams happily. “You’re not funny,” I tell her, only to have her begin to laugh hysterically, clutching her stomach, her shoulders shaking and her hair tumbling into her face. Her bubbly laughter echoes through the building and I can’t help but smile at her joy; even if it’s at my expense.

When her fit subsides, I take her towards the entrance and through the sliding doors. A warm breeze picks up, tossing our hair about and bringing the strong scent of brine picked up by the nearby ocean.

I park the wheelchair on the grassy terrain beside the building and sit down beside it, watching Riley’s reaction.

Her eyes close and her chest expands before she sighs heavily. “It has been too long,” she murmurs softly, lifting her nose higher to the sky.

“I was thinking we could go down to the beach for a bit,” I say. “The one just off the park is a no-go spot for tourists because it’s sanctioned off for turtles to lay their eggs. This late in the season, there won't be any eggs to disturb and since our rescue team oversees the area, we have access. I figured you might like to be close to home for a few hours and it would be nice and private.”

“That would be nice,” Riley agrees. “But no, we should not go down.”

“Why not?”

“There is a storm coming,” Riley says, pointing to the sky. I glance up to see storm clouds beginning to gather, dark and ugly. The wind picks up again, bringing the first splatter of raindrops to pepper against my nose and cheeks. “I agree with you that I should not take to open waters without a chance to stretch and swim. A storm is not a good time to be near the shore whether you are in or out of the water.”

“The weather was supposed to be nice!” I protest.

Riley shrugs. “You cannot control a storm,” she points out.

“No, I suppose not,” I relent with a sigh. “Well, I had planned to show you the park and take you to the beach, but we’d better get inside. Why don’t we go see the results of those x-rays? Then we can get a pool set up for you to do some swimming.”

“Alright,” Riley agrees.

I hurry us both back inside just as the sky opens to release a torrent of rain. The wind picks up, begins to howl against the glass doors, and the rain pelts loudly against ground. “Well at least it held up until we were inside,” I grumble. “Come on.” I twist the wheelchair around and head back to the elevator.

“She’s looking good out there,” Lewis comments casually. I glance at him, pulled from my tranced state of watching the teen swim. The x-rays had given her the all clear and we got one of the rehabilitation pools ready for her to swim in. She’s taken to it well.

“Yeah,” I agree sullenly, “I guess so.”

“You don’t want her to go,” Lewis observes. “And you’re sulking because you were hoping she’d be around longer.”

“I'm not sulking,” I protest. “I just- I mean…” I sigh and hesitate. “I’ve grown fond of her is all,” I admit finally.

“I had a feeling you would.”

“Do you think she knows?” I ask. “I wouldn’t want her to think I would try to force her to stay.”

“I doubt she’d think that,” Lewis replies. “But, Soph, you are prepared to say goodbye, right?”

“I’m a big girl, Lewis,” I retort, forcing myself not to growl. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself in a situation and I know how to say goodbye.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lewis whispers. “And you know it. I'm just trying to look out for you. You’ve been through a lot lately and I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know,” I relent with a sigh. “I guess I'm just a little touchy on the subject, is all. I'm sorry.” I shift closer to him and he places his hand over mine.

I sigh, a content smile twitching at my lips as the earlier tension slips away. I refocus my gaze on Riley, who’s darting around beneath the surface of the water, twisting her body into, what looks like uncomfortable, acrobatic positions; clearly stretching out underused muscles. For a few peaceful moments, there’s silence. Then, with a yell of delight, Riley breaches easily twenty feet out of the water, corkscrewing through the air in an impressive trick. Just as she begins to lose momentum, tilting back down towards the pool, she extends her massive hip fins and I learn the reason she calls them gliders. Expanding like sails, the brightly colored fins take on a convex appearance as they fill with air, jerking her into an upright position. She follows the momentum into a double backflip and lands in the water with a remarkable splash. She glides back to the surface and the edge of the pool, where she leans her arms on the deck and rests her chin on them.

“That was impressive,” I state.

Riley shrugs. “It just feels so good to move,” she exclaims. “I hate sitting still. To do it for over a moon was torture.”

“I think we had fun,” I protest. “I must have taught you at least eight board games. Though you still suck at chess,” I tease.

Riley rolls her eyes. “That is because it is a demon’s game with no true point other than to amuse the weak of mind and soul,” she retorts.

“I take offense to that. Besides, you were pretty addicted to it for a while; you just lack strategizing skills,” I counter. “Point is, it wasn’t all bad, was it?”

“I suppose not,” Riley concedes. “Just the lying in the same spot endlessly was awful.”

“I can imagine,” I agree. “But that was an impressive trick you did just now. How’d you learn to do that?”

“Boredom,” Riley replies. “And a dare.”

“Why am I not surprised? So how are you feeling as far as swimming ability?”

“A little stiff,” Riley admits. “But not too bad considering.” She swipes some of the soaked blonde hair plastered to her face off her cheek, giving her head a slight shake.

“You think you’re okay to go tomorrow?” I press. “Because there’s no rush. If you think you need a couple of days to readjust, there’s no one kicking you out.”

Riley smiles but shakes her head. “I am feeling pretty good and more than anything; I am eager to breathe the ocean once more.”

I feel myself deflate internally, but I force a smile none the less. “Well then, first thing tomorrow we’ll take you downstairs. There’s a tank tunnel that leads right to open waters. It used to be where we drew in seawater to filter into the indoor tanks, but that was years ago. It should make for a good exit port.”

“Okay,” Riley agrees.

“So, you ready to come out now?” I ask. “Getting hungry at all?”

Riley’s eyes narrow and she sticks her tongue out. “Nope, I am staying here,” she decides. “Though I am getting a little hungry. Would you bring food down?” she asks hopefully. “Please?”

I shake my head. “Not a chance. You want food; you get out and come upstairs. I spent last night preparing a nice parting meal for you, you are not eating it on the side of a pool,” I decide.

Riley’s ice blue irises widen with surprise. “Oh. I am sorry, I did not know,” she apologizes, dragging herself from the water, causing rivets of water to race through the paces in between the tiles of the floor like tiny rivers.

I hold up a hand. “Riley, there’s no rush; if you want to swim a little longer, go right ahead. I just meant that I’d like for you to come upstairs and eat, when you're ready that is.”

“I have my whole life to swim,” Riley decides. “I would like to share a meal with you.”

Joy blossoms in my heart like a rapidly blooming flower and I eagerly help her back into the wheelchair, fixing the blanket back into place and helping her into her shirt. Lewis catches my attention by clearing his throat. I stand and move over to him.

“I'm going to get going,” he declares. “I promised my sister that I would babysit the kids tonight, so I'm going to head on over there.”

“Well, there’s plenty of food,” I begin. “If you want to bring them here.”

Lewis shakes his head and pulls me into a hug. “Nah, I’ll get out of your hair,” he decides. More quietly, he adds, “go enjoy an evening with her. I know you want to spend as much time as you can. I won't get in the way of that. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

I smile and tilt my head up to kiss him firmly in response. “Thank you,” I breathe as I pull away ever so slightly. Our noses are still close enough to touch and his breath tickles my chin. “It means a lot.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice low. “Save me leftovers.”

I laugh and pull away, planting a hand on his chest and giving him a shove. “I suppose we do that,” I tease. “Right Riley.” I turn to look back at the teen and find her nose wrinkled. “What?”

“You two. You are not going to mate right here or anything, are you?”

I cough, eyes widening, and my hand flies to my mouth. Behind me, Lewis begins to choke as well. “Riley!” I admonish, shocked by her statement. “Of course not!”

A smug grin pulls across her lips, the tip of her tongue poking out between her fangs. “Good. Because that would be disgusting,” she states pointedly, her grin widening and her one eyebrow raising.

“You are awful,” I state.

Lewis pats me on the back gently. “I have to get going now. You,” he jabs a finger at Riley. “Stop driving people crazy. Especially my girlfriend, please.”

“Goodbye Lewis,” I say, giving him a final kiss on the cheek.

“Bye Soph,” he replies. “Have a good evening.” Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the cheeky, tailed teen.

“I don’t remember you causing this much mischief over the past month.”

Riley shrugs. “I was trapped on a bed in a tiny box of a room before,” she states. “I have more material to work with now.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “Wonderful.”

“I promise to relent,” she responds.

“Thank you. Now you are hungry right?”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I have not eaten yet, remember? It is beginning to get late.”

“Well,” I begin as I take up position behind the wheelchair. “Maybe if you chose to eat more than once a day,” I remind. It had been quite worrisome in the beginning when she’d refused to eat more than once a day. Her portions were healthy for a meal, but certainly didn’t seem like enough for a whole day. Took a while to realize that her body doesn’t need as much to survive. Evolutionary trait I guess.

“I do not need more than one meal,” she argues.

“Well, just make sure you're bringing a bigger appetite tonight, okay?”

“Alright,” she agrees with a shrug as we enter the mail lobby once more. I wince as I glance outside at the howling storm still pounding against the glass doors. “Ready to get wet?”

“I am already wet,” Riley points out.

“Well, ready to brave a storm then?”

Riley twists in her chair, drapes her arm over the back, and smiles, her eyes narrowed in a challenge. “A little wind and a little rain? It is not that scary, but I will hold your hand if you are scared,” she teases.

Not bothering with a response, I shove the wheelchair into motion and out into the torrential rain. Despite my desperate race across the pavement, about a hundred feet from the door to the employee apartments, by the time we get inside my hair has lost its natural wave and is now plastered against my neck and drenched clothes. I give my head a shake. “Woah, it’s really coming down out there,” I say.

“Uh-huh,” Riley agrees, swiping her dripping bangs out of her eyes. Her fingers pinch the fabric of her shirt. “I think I need a new one,” she mumbles. “I do not think it is supposed to be sticking to my skin.”

I laugh and ruffle her hair. “That’s fine; we’ll get dried off and changed upstairs.”

“Alright, but can you teach me how to use this thing first?” she requests as she pats the arm of the wheelchair. “I want to be able to move around on my own. There is a way for the person in the chair to move it right?”

“Yes,” I laugh. “There is. Put your arms here, and push,” I instruct, guiding her hands to the rims of the wheels. She pushes forward.

“Oh,” she exclaims.

“Pull to move backwards, push the right rim to turn left and the left rim to turn right. Try not to touch the actual wheels though,” I explain.

I let her practise for a few minutes before I lead her into the elevator and up to the top floor. Her eyes dart around, taking in the creamy seashell paper and sandalwood floorboards.

I stick the key into my door and push it open.

“So you live here?” Riley asks.

“Yes. Feel free to look around if you like; I’m just going to go change out these wet clothes. You can just leave your blanket and that shirt by the door; I'll get them after,” I say as ditch my shoes and hurry to my room. “Do you want a clean shirt or are you done with human clothing?”

“I am alright, I think I would prefer to go without,” Riley calls from down the hall. I’m quick about changing into dry clothing and rejoining Riley. I walk back down the hall wringing my hair with a towel. I hand a spare to Riley.

“Dry off a little,” I state.

She takes the towel silently and rubs at her wet hair and shoulders. Smoothing it into her lap, she begins to explore a little. I watch her gaze drift over the furniture and the walls with lazy curiosity. She pauses at the table and curls her fingers around the picture frame still laying there. Lifting it into the air, she brings it closer to examine. I’ve explained pictures to her before, so I know she’s aware of the concept.

“Who is this?” she asks, twisting the picture into view.

My heart clenches and I hesitantly take it off her with shaking hands. “This is- this is Katie. She’s my daughter,” I whisper.

“Is she here? I have not met her.”

“No, Riley, she’s not here,” I begin, sitting on the arm of the couch to steady myself. “She died a few months ago.”

“Oh,” Riley murmurs. “Sophie, I am sorry, I did not mean to bring up a-”

“You couldn’t have known,” I interrupt, waving a hand and forcing a smile. “But it’s too bad you never got the chance to meet; you might have liked her. She was your age, she had a kindred and slightly wild spirit, and she loved the ocean more than anything…” I trail off and take a deep breath, forcing myself not to cry. “Well, she was a good kid anyways,” I finish, replacing the picture on the table, just in front of the seat she always sat at. “So,” I clap my hands together and rub them nervously, eager to move on. “Are you hungry now? I just have to heat everything up, so we can eat at any time.”

Riley shrugs. “Whenever is fine. Really, you did not have to go through the trouble of making something; I could have been perfectly fine with a fish.”

“It’s your last night here,” I reply. “I wanted to do something different; special.”

“Why though?” Riley questions, her head tilting to the side. “You do not owe me anything, in fact I am the one indebted to you.”

“Hush,” I order. “You are not indebted to anyone for anything. And I didn’t make a nice meal because I feel obligated, I made it because I care about you and I want you to enjoy your final night here with us.”

Riley frowns, her slender blonde eyebrows dipping to meet together on her forehead, but she doesn’t comment further. I move into the kitchen and pull open the fridge, pulling out the containers of our meal for tonight.

“It will just take a few minutes to heat everything up,” I say as I fit the first few containers into the microwave.

Riley’s eyes are wide as I set the final plate on the table, completing the spread. “Wow,” she murmurs, licking her lips. “That looks really good.”

“Well, I hope you like it,” I reply. I pull a chair away from the table so I can slide Riley’s wheelchair into its former place. On the table is a large platter of tropical fruit slices; mangos, bananas, apples, pears, pineapple, and coconut chunks, a bowl of steamed clams marinated in a mixture of coconut milk, salt water, and a few herbs and cooked with roasted walnuts and mushrooms, made because she’s voiced the mollusks to be her absolute favorite. I’ve made a salad made of fresh lettuce, tomato, carrots, and dried seaweed and there is also a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes made with coconut milk and without butter. For desert, I have more fruit and cold shrimp to be dipped in honey. While her stomach seems capable of handling a wide variety of foods, including those that would never be accessible to her in the wild, I hesitate to fill the meal with processed foods like breads, butters, and sauces as a precaution. The last thing I want is for her to get food poisoning or spend the evening throwing up because she can’t handle those foods. “What do you want to start with?”

“I want to try all of it,” Riley replies, her tongue swiping out over her bottom lip again.

“Alright,” I agree, scooping a bit of everything onto her plate. “You can just grab at the fruit as you like. Now I know you’re not fond of utensils and that’s fine, but you may find it easier to eat the potatoes if you use a fork.” I take a seat at the end side of the table so the corner is all that separates us, and begin to take some food myself.

If Riley heard my earlier suggestion, she makes no move to respond as she eagerly grabs a clam from her plate and removes the fleshy tongue using her teeth. She rolls a walnut between her fingers before popping it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully before downing another clam and moving to the salad.

“How is it?” I ask, before taking a bite of my own meal.

“Mhm,” escapes Riley as she chews. “It is really good,” she states after swallowing her mouthful. “There is merit to cooked food; the clams have a whole new flavor.” Her finger pokes into the potatoes so she can sample them. Within a moment, she’s stabbing at them with an awkwardly held fork in an effort to eat more.

“Well, eat as much as you like,” I reply.

“Ah,” Riley sighs, leaning back in her chair and bringing her hands to rest on her slightly bloated stomach. She hiccups. “That was good. But I think I overate,” she admits.

“That’s okay,” I reply. “As long as you aren’t in any pain. So, what do you want to do now? The storm screwed up all of my plans by trapping us indoors, but we could play a board game or watch a movie if you like,” I suggest.

“What is a movie?” Riley questions.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” I admit. “A movie is like a series of pictures, but they move and talk to act out a storyline. It’s easier to show you.”

“Alright,” Riley agrees. “I would like to see one of these ‘movies’ of yours.”

“Okay, well, come into the living room and you can pick one,” I reply, opening the cupboard of the entertainment unit and pulling out all of the DVDs, setting them on the coffee table, for her to look at.

Riley brushes her fingers over a few of the cases. “These are not moving or talking,” she declares.

“Those are just the cases,” I tell her. “I have to put the movie into a special slot in order for it to play.” I try to keep my explanation vague to avoid being bombarded with more inquiries from the overly curious girl. Luckily, she seems preoccupied and doesn’t voice any more questions.

She picks up one of the cases and twists it to show me. “Would I find this offensive or is it accurate?” she asks. I glance up to see her holding a well-loved Disney movie from Katie’s childhood. Atlantis displayed in the background with Ariel sitting on a rock for the picture. “And what is with the seashells?”

“That movie is far from accurate,” I reply. “Odds are you’d find it appalling. Do you want to watch it anyways?”

I watch Riley chew her lip, flipping the case to look at the picture once more. Then her eyes light up. “Yes,” she decides. “If only to see what sort of interpretation humans have on the Mer.”

I pluck the case from her fingers and get the movie set up. Internally, I find myself laughing and deviously enjoying the idea of Riley’s reaction to the film. Once she’s settled on the couch and dessert has been brought out, I hit play.

“I am sorry,” Riley exclaims as I turn the television off, “but that was awful. Firstly, we are not called mermaids, secondly, there is no such thing as that ‘sea witch’, what was her name again? Never mind, point is that Mer do not have tentacles, spells, or magic glowing forks. And that girl was an idiot. Why would she do all that stuff? I mean no one in their right mind would change everything about themselves, make a deal like that, just for-”

“It’s just a children’s movie, Riley,” I laugh, interrupting her rant. “And none of it was meant to be accurate, it was meant to be amusing. To most of the world, the Mer don’t exist; they’re just a fantasy, so there are hundreds of different interpretations on what you look like and how you live,” I explain.

“But still,” Riley protests.

“Children’s movie,” I reiterate. “Meant to be amusing and teach a lesson.”

“What sort of lesson could you pull from that?” She demands, ice blue eyes fixing on me.

I shrug. “Actions have consequences? That you have to fight for the things you care about? Follow you dreams?” I list some suggestions.

“I guess,” the teen relents. “And I suppose it was a little funny and amusing.”

“Good. Now it’s getting late, how are you feeling?”

“A little tired,” she admits. “I did not sleep so great last night.”

“Anything wrong?”

“No. It was just a rough night. I think I was just excited and worried at the same time and it led to a fitful slumber,” she admits, her lips parting in a wide yawn, giving me a full view of her long and wickedly sharp fangs. I can’t help but shudder at the sight of them when I think about the damage they can do and how easy it would be. It definitely reminds me never to get on the girl’s bad side.

“Well, we’d better get you settled for the night then,” I decide. “But before we do, I want to run something by you.”

“Uh, okay,” Riley agrees, shifting in her spot on the couch and curling her tail beneath her. “What is it?”

“Well, actually, it was Lewis’ idea but I agree with him. He would like for you to agree to be microchipped.”

“Microchipped?” Riley tilts her head to the side, a usual tic when she asks a question. “What is that?”

“It means you would get a microchip, before you ask what a microchip is; I'm getting to that,” I add hastily, watching the teen close her previously opened mouth. “A microchip is a very small piece of technology. It would be no bigger than half the size of the fingernail of your little finger.”

Riley lifts her hand up to inspect it. “That is small,” she agrees, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Yes, but a microchip can do a lot of things. Like storing and sending data, monitoring heart and pulse rates, and most come with a tracking system, which means it can be located anywhere in the world.”

Riley’s eyes narrow with suspicion, but not quite to slits so it’s not full anger yet. “So if it was on me then you could find me-”

“In,” I correct. “It would be inside you, not on you.”

“In?” Riley coughs.

“Riley, honey calm down,” I plead, extending a hand to squeeze her shoulder. “Nothing happens without your ‘okay’, alright. Now listen, as far as it being inside you goes, you won't even feel it and it certainly won’t cause you any harm; the needle will sting a little but that’s the extent of it. And yes, it would allow us to find you if need be, but Riley, that’s not a bad thing. It would also keep a monitor on your body. Your heart and pulse rate, blood pressure, that sort of thing.”

“And?”

“Well, Riley, it’s in your best interest. There’s a reason for it. You know that it was a very close call when we found you; had it taken any longer, even by minutes, we would not be having this conversation, or any for that matter,” I begin.

“I know,” Riley murmurs, picking at a scale on her tail.

“Well, I don’t ever want to be too late,” I continue. “Let’s say you get hurt again, just as badly. Your microchip would alert us if you started losing a lot of blood, if your pulse quickened to quickly, if you were in trouble, and it would let us find you, get to you. We do care about your well-being, Riley; I’m just trying to offer you some security.”

“I do not know how comfortable I am with the idea of people being able to locate me at any time,” Riley admits. “It feels like an invasion of privacy and like a bad idea.”

“No one would have access to the data except Lewis and me,” I state. “And we’d never spy on you Riley; it’s just a precaution is all. You won’t even notice the chip once it’s in, I promise.”

Riley chews on her lip and visibly hesitates. “Alright,” she concedes. “I trust you, so if you think it is important then I will not argue.”

I smile and squeeze her shoulder, honored after knowing that she’s slow to trust anyone. “Thank you.”

Riley nods just as her lips slit in another yawn and her arms raise into a stretch. I reach a hand out and the scales on her lap.

“I just have to use the bathroom and then I’ll get you settled for the night, okay?”

“Alright,” Riley agrees with a shrug. She leans forward and tugs her wheelchair closer so she can slip off the couch and into it. “Do you mind if I wander a little?”

“Go ahead,” I agree, pushing myself off the comfortably worn fabric of the couch. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes.” I walk down the dark hallway of the apartment and flick the bathroom light on. The soft, sky blue walls and off-white tiles contrasting brightly against the unlit hall.

When I come back out, I pull up short in the doorway. Riley has stopped in front of the only closed door in the apartment, her hand frozen a few inches from the handle in clear hesitation. Clearly hearing the door open, her head turns towards me, her hand lowering back into her lap. “How come this one is closed?” she asks. “All the others are open. Well, except for when you were in there, but no one else is here, right?”

“No it’s just us,” I answer, giving myself a mental shake. “That’s uh- well, that’s Katie’s room.”

“Oh,” Riley’s face falls. “I am sorry, I did not mean-”

“It’s fine,” I reply. “You can go in if you want to.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod and close the distance between us. My fingers curl around the handle, but I find myself freezing mid-turn. I hesitate, my jaw tightening, and swallow thickly. I haven’t really been in here since the incident.

Riley lifts a hand and rests it on my arm, offering me a crooked smile. “You do not have to open it, you know. I am fine without seeing it; I was merely curious about why the door was closed.”

I shake my head and muster my courage. “No, it’s time,” I decide, pushing the door open and flicking on the light.

The amethyst walls brighten immediately with the flood of light. Katie’s bed is neatly made, the large dolphin comforter tucked neatly under the mattress. Her extensive shell collection litters the shelves, the desk, the end table, wardrobe, and even a few on her window seat. A small pile of clothes lay folded on the corner of the bed, clearly forgotten in an early morning rush the day of the incident. Her developed photographs cover nearly every inch of the one wall, the bulletin board hanging above the desk stuffed full and the wall holding hundreds of taped up images. Dolphins, sharks, otters, seals, seahorses, close ups of coral and seascapes of reefs, kelp forests shine within the glossy images.

“Wow,” Riley comments, her eyes wide as she stares around. “She really did love the ocean. I have never seen so many shells in one place before.”

“She collected them from various dives,” I murmur, tracing my fingers over my personal favorite; a coconut size shell with a soft brown exterior that fades to milky white around the edges. Memory calls upon the image of the interior, how it starts out pearly, but becomes as deep a magenta as Riley’s fins further in. It has five spiny extensions that just out in a star like pattern and a large white spot right in its middle. It had been a shell that Katie and I had found together while cave diving in search of a crystal walled cavern in the cliff-side. Katie had wanted to get some pictures of it for a portfolio she was putting together. She had been fourteen when we made the rare find since conchs aren’t usually found that deep inside a cave.

“I have seen this reef before,” Riley’s voice breaks me from my thoughts. I turn to see her staring up at a picture handing on the wall, her arm extended to brush a finger pad over the image.

It’s a picture of a sea otter plucking an urchin from a coral outcropping.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Riley nods. “Yes, I recognize the pattern of the reef and the placement of these rocks. My family used to stop here during migration when I was little, but then boat activity got to common and we rerouted.”

“Small world,” I comment.

Riley shrugs, but offers up no response as her eyes glance over the rest of the images. I do the same, looking over each piece of the massive collage. I feel my heart clench in my chest, tears watering in my eyes as I find one picture I didn’t think she still had, much less pinned up with the others. It wasn’t taken by her seeing as she’s in the shot. It was taken by a passerby on request and the photo holds the two of us when Katie was eight. Sitting side by side at a picnic table each of us with an ice-cream and massive grins, Katie’s chin is embedded in the top of the frozen treat that I’d taken the opportunity to bump up into her face. She’d smiled through it and once the picture was taken, returned the favor by smearing the remainder of her ruined cone into my cheek. It had been just after I’d filed the legal documentation to become her guardian.

I sniff, one hand making its way up to my heart, the other reaching out to smooth back the yellowed corners of the photograph.

“Are you alright?” Riley asks in a tone thick with concern. “Maybe we should leave now.”

I turn to face the blonde teen staring up at me with light blue eyes clouded with warmth and worry. Her willful and wild personality now seems subdued as her worry trumps her natural behavior. I can’t help but smile, the pain in my chest lessening at the sight of the girl I’ve come to spend nearly every waking hour with over the past month and realize that since she’s showed up, I’ve laughed and smiled, played games, been pranked, joked and talked, gotten into a meaningful relationship, and had barely thought about the pain and heartache that had been my life only hours prior to meeting her; barely thinking about Katie and the hole in my life.

“No,” I refuse. “I'm fine. Besides, you’re tired, it’s been a long day and you’ve another long one ahead of you so it’s high time you got to bed.” I stride forward and take a hold of the comforter, tugging it up and folding it back before patting the mattress. “The sheets are clean and I can change the pillow case, there’s some spares in the closet.

“Sophie, you do not have to do this,” Riley argues. “I am fine anywhere; I sleep in the sand or on a rock most of the time anyways. I know this is hurting you.”

“Riley,” I feel my tone grow stern. “I have had my mourning period and it’s high time I started moving on. I love my daughter, I always will, but it’s just a bed and you are more than welcome to use it.”

“It does look rather comfortable,” Riley admits as she wheels closer.

I bend over to slide my arm around her torso and the other hand under her tail as I flip her into a somersault onto the bed, laughing at her startled squeak. She pushes into an upright position, her fins ruffled and her hair sticking up in wayward strands, her lips parted in shock. Her lips quickly twist into a sly grin, her expression morphing into one of mischief and delight. Her fingers fist into the fabric of a pillowcase and the next thing I know the soft projectile is colliding with the side of my face. I stumble but manage to catch it before it falls. Gripping it tightly, I swing it down onto Riley’s head, twice, beaming at her laughter. Ducking away from my onslaught, she grabs the remaining pillow and, holding onto it this time, begins her counter attack.

The pillow fight lasts quite a while before I call it off. Riley’s chest is heaving, her hair beyond hope of looking decent, and she’s started to sweat. I imagine I'm no different. I help her get situated, holding the blanket aloft so she can slide her tail down the bed without getting her fins tangled, and then tucking her in with it. Her face hits the pillows as she rolls onto her side and snuggles into the blanket. I sit on the bed beside her and brush her bangs off her face. For once, she doesn’t protest about it and I let my fingers linger over her brow for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” I ask.

She nods. “I am eager to be back in my element,” she admits.

“Well, first thing tomorrow,” I promise. “Everything seems perfectly fine internally, so you’re free to go, but-” I break off and hesitate.

“But what?” A slight edge enters Riley’s tone and her eyes fix on me, looking at me with a new emotion I can’t quite place.

“Nothing,” I reassure her. “I just mean that you can go or, if you wanted, you could stay here,” I whisper, voicing my heart’s desire and chewing my lip in the process.

“Here,” Riley repeats, clearly mulling the word on her tongue. “And what, live in a tank? Become one of the attractions?”

I recoil at the sudden venom, wince as her lips pull back in a warning snarl. “Of course not,” I protest. “Riley, I would never do that to you and you know it. I didn’t mean it like that. I want you to go tomorrow, want you to be able to go and be free; you’re not meant to be cooped up. But I also know that you are on your own and I still don’t think that is any life for you; you shouldn’t be lonely and by yourself, you should be with your family, with the people who love you.”

“I cannot return home,” Riley mutters. “Remember? I am an outcast; I am not welcome among my family.”

“Which is why I'm offering you an alternative. By all means, go, explore, be the wild and energetic soul I’ve come to love. I just thought that you might like a place to return back to at the end of the day, or week, or however long. That you might want to know that you have a permanent home with people who love and care about you. If you wanted company, a nice meal, a place to sleep where you don’t have to watch your back all the time; you can find all of that here. If you want it that is.”

“You mean it?” Riley asks, her voice cracking slightly. She hesitates. “I do not know; I am not exactly good with commitment.”

“It isn't about commitment, Riley; there’s no strings attached, I promise. I just want you to know that you are always welcome here, at any time,” I explain, tugging the blanket up over her shoulders. “You don’t have to give me an answer, just… think about it, okay?”

“Alright,” Riley agrees. “Thank you.” She offers me a smile and I return it, bending over without really thinking, and press a kiss to her temple.

Again, much to my surprise, the willful teenager doesn’t protest or complain. Instead, her ice blue eyes slip shut and another yawn parts her lips. “Goodnight, Riley,” I whisper. I stand up from the mattress. “Just holler if you need anything.” I flick the light and pull the door shut behind me with a soft click.

The water rises and falls a few centimeters, lapping at the sides of the basin. The pool of water is shaped like an ‘E’ with one prong of tiled floor jutting out like a dock over the water. Riley, Lewis, and I are all at the edge. Riley is sitting on the floor, her fins trailing in the water, stirring it up and causing light to dance across the concrete walls. Her left shoulder, just around the jut of her shoulder blade, is still red and irritated, a lump forming from where the chip was inserted. Lewis tried to pick a spot where it would be less likely to be damaged and while it had to hurt, Riley hadn’t made so much as a peep when the needle went in.

“You ready then?” Lewis asks.

Riley nods. “Yup.”

“Well, guess this is goodbye,” Lewis decides, giving her a pat on her good shoulder.

“Thank you, Lewis,” Riley says, twisting to look up at him. “For putting in all this effort to help me. I owe my life.”

“It’s what we do; you owe us nothing,” Lewis insists. He ruffles her hair and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Just try to be safe out there, alright?”

“I will,” Riley agrees.

Lewis nods, giving her one last pat on the back before turning to me. “I’ve got some files to report,” he decides. “Come find me after?”

I nod, grateful that yet again, he’s removed himself to give me a chance to spend a last couple of minutes alone with the Mer. “I will.” And then he’s gone, leaving just the two of us. I remove my sandals and sit next to Riley, dipping my feet into the cool water. “So, you’re sure you're ready?” I can’t stop the question from tumbling from my lips.

Riley’s head dips forward and she shuffles her glider fins. “It is time,” she decides.

“And you are going to be careful out there, right? We’re going to try and avoid any more close calls.”

“I do not actually try to be in life-threatening situations,” Riley counters. “Being injured is far from enjoyable and I try to avoid it where possible.”

“Good,” I agree, wanting to drag the conversation on, to give myself more time, but at a loss for what to say.

Riley turns her head to meet my gaze. “I will be alright,” she voices determinedly. “Thank you, for everything, but you can stop worrying now. I have to go, Sophie, I should be as far from land as possible before midday. The boats will be out and I would prefer to be in deeper waters before the surface becomes crowded.”

I nod, tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and force myself to accept that I’m out of time. “Well, the tunnel will take you straight out,” I say. “And it’s never closed. I’m leaving the wheelchair down here, so if you decide to come back, you can get around. Just…think about it okay?”

Riley offers me a weak smile; an uncomfortable sort of twist of her lips that makes my heart clench. She leans forward and gives me a light hug. “Goodbye, Sophie,” she whispers.

When she pulls away, my heart screams to pull her back and beg her to stay, but I don’t. Instead, I just watch as she slips beneath the surface of the water and, with a flash of color, is gone; disappearing into the tunnel and out to sea. “Goodbye,” I whisper back with a sigh, that forced smile imprinted on my brain. After that look, I’m less certain that we connected like I previously thought we did. I’m not sure anymore that this was ever more than a forced pit stop for her. Now, I’m truly afraid that I’ll never see her again.

A cold chill creeps into my heart, forcing its way in and forming a frigid, gaping hole. One that feels almost twice as big as the last one. I continue to sit, staring at the tunnel entrance, with tears streaming down my cheeks and yet, I'm not even sure when I began to cry.