The Sea Man

For the last eight weeks, the Sea Man had been living with me in my cozy little beach cottage. I still remember the day I met him - I was taking my daily morning walk down to the sea, where I’d watch the sunrise. And then I spotted him - huddling behind a large rock, a beautiful stranger wearing a sail tied with ropes like a toga. From where I stood, the only thing that caught my interest was his messy cedar brown hair. I approached him curiously, ignoring my cheeks turning anemone red and my shy heart thumping rapidly.

“Hey! Are you okay, sir? ” Clearly he wasn’t from around here, and he looked like he had been washed up from a shipwreck. When I met his eyes, I was mesmerised by how they shimmered with hues of blues, greens and silvers. And his lips curled into a smile that was too cute for words!

“Uh…d-do you need any help?” I offered my hand despite my stammering. He grabbed my hand, but his legs wobbled as he slowly rose. His hands were cool to the touch as he gently traced the lines of my palm.

“Wow…” I gasped. “Um…what’s your name?” He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He touched his throat, disappointed. “What’s wrong? Wait…you can’t speak?” He shook his head. “Oh…I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He suddenly wobbled again, but I caught him on time, helping him stand before deciding to bring him home. “Gee, you really must have been through something. But don’t worry, I’ll help you. Come on, you’ll be okay.”

***

The eight weeks that passed were - in a word - blissful. After all, despite how magnificent and mysterious the sea was from my balcony, it eventually gets lonely after two years without anyone to share this beauty with. His warm cuddles made me feel safe and secure, especially on stormy nights. And the sex - I always set it to showtunes from the 1930s and 40s, which I played from my speaker. And hoo! He was like a diver searching for treasure, and when he found the goods, he cherished them tenderly. However, because he never spoke a word, I never knew his name. Thankfully, I knew sign language, and that’s how we communicated with each other despite the occasional slip-ups. And after browsing through names for hours, he chose the name Adam. I liked it, too.

Adam had his quirks, but I still loved him just the same. He loved collecting small luminescent objects, which gently illuminated our bedroom at night; they got him so excited that it would take him a while to fall asleep. He also loved collecting small shells - not only would I sometimes find him down at the beach collecting some, but when we ate out, he would smuggle the empty valves out of the restaurants! Surprisingly, I would sometimes find necklaces made out of those same shells whenever I returned from work at the aquarium - turns out he spent all day making them while I was away. They were so pretty, and I wore a different necklace to work every day.

But there were some things about Adam that left me wondering. Other than him walking with a very noticeable limp, I remember him signing to me that I must promise to never see him on Wednesdays - no questions asked. Done deal. He also shivered at the sight of surgical tools, and he would also take my salt jars and shakers, so I always had to buy some at Coles every day on the way home. I never understood why though, but the best explanation I got was that it was he needed some space from me for a day. Fair enough. Every day before I left for work, Adam would take the shellfish I cooked the night before, and take them upstairs to the top floor. I wouldn’t see him again until the following morning where he woke up next to me.

What was Adam hiding? Why did he have to hide from me on that specific day? What was he so afraid of? I had so many questions, but I couldn’t break my promise.

Ah, fuck it. I had to know.

***

Without Adam’s soft kisses and tender caresses, I found myself sleepless that night. Then again, every Wednesday night was like this. Taking my flashlight out of the drawer, I tiptoed out of bed and up to the top floor, pushing the sliding door open as quietly as I could. As soon as the strong, cool sea breeze hit my face, I could make out the sound of bubbling water from the hot tub. How strange - I never used the hot tub, save for special occasions, so I peeked around the corner.

Oh my god....

Where was Adam? Because who I saw, or what I saw, wasn’t him. Or was it? He was sleeping, back against the side of the hot tub, but the beautiful, flesh-coloured half I knew for eight weeks was peeling, revealing an iridescent sheen resembling fish scales. There were gills flanking his neck, half of his soft cedar hair was falling apart, and from the waist down was a long and sinuous fish tail that glowed faintly with the light of the moon. I staggered back in horror…

…and I dropped my flashlight. The thing I thought was Adam woke up, and I gasped upon meeting his now large, fishlike eyes.

“Adam?!?” I signed, backing away in horror. He slowly crawled out of the hot tub towards me with webbed hands, but there was something I recognised in those shimmering deep hues that prevented me from panicking and screaming out ‘Monster!’ - heartbreak.

“Promises were our anchor,” he signed. “Without trust, I drift alone. And I trusted you with my world.”

“Adam…Adam! I’m sorry…” I called out, realising my mistake too late. But all I could do now was futilely watch him climb over the balcony and jump into the deep black sea, never to see him again.