Page 4 of Iowa Intellect
I don’t like to go too long without completely immersing myself in the fantasy of being one of the graceful creatures. Besides, kids love my alter ego, Sparkly Pacifica a/k/a Sparkles, and she lives to entertain them.
After blowing the bangs of the bright blue wig off my sweaty forehead, I grunt and give one final, major tug on my tail. The snug latex slips into place, so I allow my upper half to fall back, exhausted from the significant effort required to get into my elaborate costume.
This is the part of being a mermaid-for-hire that I hate. Being a mermaid out of the water is an awkward, uncomfortable proposition. But the moment I slide into the pool, I’ll become the poised, beautiful undersea being that I’ve always dreamed of embodying.
Once I’ve caught my breath, I reach back to tug on the string to secure my zipper. After hooking the snaps into place and tucking away the unsightly strap, I silently declare myself to be ready.
I scoot and flop to get myself closer to the rolling cart that will wheel me out to the water, but for now, I’m as ready as I can be. The birthday girl’s father has instructions to come get me when they are ready for my grand entrance.
As I’m lying on my back, staring at the white popcorn ceiling, I think for at least the thousandth time that I should hire an assistant, rather than counting on weary parents to get me to and from the water. It’s imperative that we keep this decidedly unglamorous side of things hidden from the starry-eyed kids.
My mermaid gigs don’t pay enough to justify the added cost of hiring help. In fact, they barely pay enough to cover the price of my custom-designed costumes. I suppose I could use some of my medical income to supplement this side gig business, but I’ve always tried to keep these two completely different areas of my life totally separate from each other.
Eventually, the birthday girl’s dad comes to retrieve me. After struggling to sit up, I ask him, “Could I trouble you to help me get into my cart?”
“Oh, sure,” he says, but the frown that arises on his face as he stoops to lift me betrays his discomfort.
He seems uncertain where to place his hands, so I take charge and show him how best to accomplish this feat without being in any way inappropriate. Once he has me safely settled in the cart, I tuck the brightly hued blanket around my tail, so that I can make the big reveal in front of the birthday girl and her friends.
As the girl’s father wheels my cart outside, I begin to question my life choices. Flopping around on the floor, like a fish, and waiting for a married father to escort me to the water is hardly the glamorous lifestyle I pictured for myself.
The birthday girl’s eyes light up with joy at the sight of me, and I am suddenly reminded why I do this. My hand sweeps gracefully back and forth as I smile and wave at the obviously excited group of young girls.
I take on the persona and high-pitched, breathy voice of Sparkly Pacifica as I speak to the children and wish the little girl a happy birthday. She bounces up and down when I peel back the blanket to reveal my fabulous, colorful tail.
After opening the door to my cart, I prepare to glide into the pool to begin my underwater show. I falter, though, when I make eye contact with him.
What in the world is Brock Mann doing at a children’s birthday party?
My hand rises of its own accord to the sparkling rhinestones adorning my eyes.
Are the bright makeup and wig of my costume enough of a disguise to keep him from recognizing me?
Based on the way his eyes are shining with recognition and what appears to be adoration in my direction, I have to assume that he definitely knows who I am.
My graceful entrance into the water is ruined as I stare at Brock and clumsily fall into the pool. When I surface, I splutter, having taken in a gulp of chlorinated water.
After whirling around, I realize the preteen girls are all glaring at me as if I am a complete fraud. Knowing that I need to turn this fiasco around quickly, I force myself to ignore the side of the pool where Brock is standing and, instead, focus my attention completely on the birthday girl and her friends.
Soon, I win the girls over with the elaborate routine that I have practiced hundreds of times. The countless hours I have spent on breathwork, gymnastics, and ballet pay off as I gracefully swish around the pool.
The girls clap each time I surface, and I can hear their happy giggles even when I’m under the water.
I take a deep breath in preparation for the grand finale. Diving deep, I turn over onto my back and get ready to make my big move. When I lunge, something holds me back. I tug and I pull, but something is caught and holding me down on the bottom of the pool.
The thought whirring through my brain as the last of the air leaves my lungs is that watching a mermaid die at the bottom of a pool is going to traumatize this group of little girls for the rest of their lives.
5
BROCK
Nothing could have surprised me more than seeing our professional, prim and proper, team doctor in a vibrant, sparkling mermaid costume. Of course, I recognized her immediately, even if I couldn’t quite believe my eyes.
She’s talented, too. Her graceful beauty as she skims through the water has the group of little girls gazing at her as if she’s a real mermaid. Hell, she’s so good that I almost believe it.
It shouldn’t surprise me. Afterall, I’m sure the amazing woman can do anything she sets her mind to, but the gorgeous sight of her is about the last thing I expected to encounter at my niece’s birthday party.
I am tempted to jump into the water with her, but I don’t think I could be that close to the intriguing woman and keep it G-rated for the kiddos. I’m sure the uptight doctor in her mermaid getup will be a regular fixture in my fantasies going forward, though.
