Page 9 of Oceansong
Dave nodded, appreciative.
“And congratulations on the new baby,” Angie offered weakly.
Jenny gave her a despondent smile. “Thanks. The Ngos, Estrellas, and the Davises have been out all day and night at the pier and on their boats. We were hoping to get some of their extra catches, but even they don’t have enough.”
“Took that long-ass ride downtown with a couple others to Amy and Carol Lum’s shop. Everything’s twice as expensive and they were running low on a lot of meat and veggies,” Dave added. “Something about demand being too high for how fast they can resupply. It’s bullshit.”
This situation was getting worse and worse.
Dave furrowed his brow. “What’s going on with your dad? He was so good about bringing us fresh seafood, supplemented whatever our anglers were getting.” Dave smiled, seemingly to himself. “Still have no idea how he got away with bringing all those fish back.”
“Well, he owns the docks, so he can do whatever he wants. And there’s been a shortage of fish.” Angie forced a chuckle. “The catches have been getting smaller. You’re not imagining it.” She didn’t want to divulge merfolk to them just yet–no need to send anyone into a panic until they confirmed what was happening.
“But what’s going on? We’re not the only ones who’re hungry,” Jenny spoke up, her voice rising. Dave rested a hand on her shoulder, and she calmed.
A truckload of resolve smashed into Angie’s gut.
The villagers relied on her family’s weekly deliveries of salmon, halibut, cod, and shellfish to survive. Their littoral village was surrounded by water on three sides and dense forest on the fourth side. Its cold soil yielded a limited number of crops, adequate to feed the villagers if they were coupled with a healthy supplementation of seafood. Their scarcity of crops was not conducive to raising livestock. The next town was over fifty miles away by air.
If even their tiny grocery store downtown—a ninety-minute trip away and where new stock was airlifted in once every two weeks and mostly served the downtowners—was spiking in their prices and running low, her villagers would begin to starve. How long did the merfolk intend to hoardthe fish? It had only started three weeks ago. The ocean’s ecosystem would be upended. It was a horrifying thought on both ends.
The young couple stood before her, their expressions silent and pleading. “I’ll talk to my bàba,” Angie said, voice resolute. “Promise.”
Angie didn’t get the chance to talk to Bàba again before Mia, Nick, and Rosie arrived.
He hadn’t lost his perfect, host touch, that was for sure. She admired his handiwork.
That night, the sprawling dining room was lit wall to wall with dimmed lights shaped like flowers and leaves. Bàba and Mama had wanted the dining room to be lodge-inspired, the walls and triangulated ceiling appearing to be made of stacked logs.
A long, solid wood table sat in the middle, seating ten, reminding Angie of the days when her parents hosted get-togethers for the villagers and threw surprise birthday parties for her and Mia.
Once, she couldn’t wait to get out of Creston and move away for college. Four years later and she now relished the comforts and memories of her childhood home.
The fireplace roared in the living room, spitting out tiny chunks of crimson and jet-black embers, warming the space like a cozy blanket. Angie rushed over to drop aromatic dried herbs and cinnamon sticks inside, keeping the pleasant, fruity, peppery, and earthy scents circulating and drifting into the kitchen.
Tonight, Mia and Nick brought a crockpot-sized meal of homemade bison chili, enough so they would have leftovers for the next two days.
Lulu made sporadic appearances and delighted Rosie who waved a laser pointer around.
Nick stood from the table, leaving a portion of his food uneaten. He moved into the living room and play-wrestled with Rosie while she shrieked in laughter, spooking Lulu, before Bàba called him back to the table.
The night was going off without a hitch, and conversation flowed.
Until after dinner.
Nick stayed sitting while Mia, Angie, and Bàba cleared the table.
“You going to help or just sit there?” Angie faced Nick once Mia and Bàba disappeared into the kitchen. She wasn’t sure if her biting tone would get Nick’s attention, or if, as usual, he would ignore being called out.
“You go ahead. I’m watching Rosie.” Except Nick was turned away from Rosie, who ran around and shouted for Lulu. Plates and cups stacked in her arms, Angie walked to the kitchen, shaking her head. She left Nick’s dirty dishes in front of him.
Clean your own plates then, prick.
“I’m still not used to this house without Mama,” Mia was saying when Angie joined them. “I miss her.”
Bàba set his lips in a tight line and gave a nearly imperceptible nod. He didn’t meet Mia’s eyes for a beat. Hanging back, Angie’s heart ached at the mention of Mama, with memories of how she made delicious recipes passed down from her own mother–Angie’swàipó, still in China–many of them involving their favorite food, rice, in some form. Angie, Bàba, and Mia would affectionately call themfàntong, meaning “rice bucket.”
“Thank you for the food,” Bàba said, finally meeting Mia’s gaze.
