Page 52 of Oceansong
Enjoy your day off.
Don’t focus on the eleven-hour shift awaiting you tomorrow.
Angie repeated the two thoughts to herself, over and over.
Three more workers quit out of fear yesterday, and Bàba and Nick were growing desperate.
She forced herself to focus on the rest of today as she stepped off the bus, making the ten-minute walk to Mia’s apartment.
The late afternoon brought golden sunlight on her head, the warmest day of the summer so far at sixty degrees.
The memories of the underwater world, seeing Mama again, and kissing Kaden came upon her. A hot flush crept over her cheeks at the memory of his mouth moving over hers and the taste of his tongue for too brief a time. His sturdy hands had cupped her waist and pulled her close so they were chest to chest, his tail wrapping around her to stop her from floating away with the currents. Never had she felt so safe, so content, and so warm in subzero waters.
She rang Mia’s doorbell, and immediately, her sister flung the door open. Mia reached around Angie’s shoulders and squeezed. Angie returned the hug before removing her shoes and stepping inside. “Glad you made it!”
“Yeah, almost didn’t make the bus here. It came five minutes early and was about to take off on me,” Angie grumbled. “But glad I made it, too.”
Unlike their roomy and airy family home, Mia and Nick’s Parisian-style, cosmopolitan house in downtown Creston felt so constraining and sparsely decorated. Mia said Nick lived a simplistic lifestyle, and over their years together, she followed suit. White walls and tall windows surrounded her, making Angie feel small and exposed. The couches, ottoman, and circular coffee table in front of an electric fireplace sat too close together.
Still, their sparkly, unique chandeliers always stood out to Angie. Most notably, the one appearing to be of four discs held together by three cords. They had picked it out together.
A simpler time. Angie had been on the cusp of twenty, and Mama had gone with them. The last time the three of them were together before she left for college.
Because it was Mia’s home, Angie considered it hers too, by extent. They kept the place impeccably clean, not a speck of dirt to be found despite their young daughter living there.
“Want a cup of tea? Rooibos?” Mia smoothed out her sea-green terry cloth robe, slippers shuffling along the parquet floors in the foyer.
“Sure, I’m not picky.” Angie helped Mia grab the box of tea in the overhead cabinet. Dark circles swelled beneath Mia’s eyes, and her hair was tied back into a short ponytail. Not a trace of makeup on her pale face, and she yawned while brewing two cups of vanilla rooibos tea.
She seemed tired. Not much different than Angie felt at the weeks’ end. They sat a foot apart on the living room couch, their teacups resting on small porcelain plates. “Mia.”
“Hmm?” Mia rubbed her eyes.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, I’m the one who asked. I’m glad you made it. Wait, I already said that, didn’t I? I really am glad.”
Angie cocked an eyebrow. Her words came out slow, pitched with concern. “Is everything okay, though?”
A pause ensued before Mia answered. “Nick took Rosie to his parents’ for the weekend. I wanted the house to myself for a bit. Spend some time with you.” She shifted her weight. “I’m beat. Can’t this shit with the mer to end already? Drop a bomb on them or something, just wipe them from existence.” Her fingers pinched around the teacup handle.
Angie stopped breathing for a moment, and her chest tightened in response. “I hope we’ll never have to go that far.”
Mia shook her head. “Don’t you feel it, working there? It’s getting worse. I barely see my own husband anymore, and Rosie misses her dad. He’s always working, and when he’s finally home, we’re lucky if he can sit down for dinner and stay awake long enough to hold a conversation. I can’t remember the last time we went on a proper date.” She choked on her last words, her voice thick.
Now Angie understood. “Believe me, I want this to be over too. But we can’t give up now. Otherwise, we’ll never get our fish back. The docks will go bankrupt, and our village will starve.” Her thoughts turned to Kaden. Themere thought of Mia’s suggestion becoming reality sent her into a panic.
“I want my husband back. I’m sick and tired of worrying about him. He isn’t eating properly, and he’s on medication. He’s so angry all the time, talking and cursing in French and walks around like something’s brewing beneath the surface, and he’ll blow any second. All he talks about is the mer, and he hates them with a passion I’ve never seen him have for anything in over a decade of being with him.” She clenched her teeth.
Angie paled. Did Bàba know Nick was getting like this? She would ask him later. “I’m sorry he’s acting like that. He always came off to me like—” Angie wrinkled her nose, tried to think of the proper words. “Annoying, sometimes insensitive. Like he always has to one-up you. Macho. But never explosive.” She side-eyed Mia. “Was he?”
“No! It’s like getting a taste of power has turned him, I don’t know, ambitious? If ambition was on steroids.” A thunderstorm reflected in Mia’s features. “He mentioned once that he felt like he didn’t have much say in his family, growing up. He was the second youngest of five. Not that it’s an excuse.” She buried her face in her hands. “I go to work, come home, take care of Rosie. Then on top of that, I worry about Nick. I had to be away from them for a couple days to settle myself. Feel like I’m going nuts.”
Angie set her lips in a tight line and moved to sit next to her.
“I feel like he’s a shadow of the man I married, like we’re drifting further apart. At least he’s still trying to be a good dad.” Mia twisted her wedding ring.
The concept of shitty husband, but good father stumped Angie. Mama and Bàba taught them and exemplified that part of a parent’s job was to teach their kids how to respect and love the people in their lives. She held her tongue. This was about Mia’s feelings, not hers.
