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Clean Slate
Katrina
The nightscape blurred past us in streaks of midnight and indigo. Humid air rushed over me, dancing through the tangles in my hair as the bike sped through the streets. Even in winter, the evenings were mild. Sixty degrees was still plenty warm enough for a quick joy ride on New Year's Eve to watch the fireworks over the bay.
I clung tightly to Milo as he skillfully guided the motorcycle through the crowded roads, allowing us to dodge stopped traffic and blockades. Once we crossed the stone bridge over Matanzas Bay, he finally settled on a spot with a clear view of the glassy water below and the horizon into which it flowed. As he flipped out the kickstand with his foot, I pulled my helmet over my head and braced against his shoulder as I swung myself over to dismount.
It had been just over a month since I dove into the sea, breaking Milo’s curse, and subsequently, mine. His ship and crew rested at the bottom of the ocean, along with the memories of the past, the darkness that had haunted us for so long, and the magic that started it all. Thankfully, my love for Milo had saved him. The legend says a mermaid—er—siren’s heart could allow a man to cheat death. I’d technically given him my heart, I could admit to that part, but I still didn’t like to think too hard about what else that implied. But ultimately, it didn’t matter, I supposed. No more pirates. No more mermaids. We were free.
Milo removed his helmet with swiftness and shook his dark honey locks loose. His dark jeans and brown leather jacket offered a subtle nod to his past to my eyes only, but no one else would have ever guessed he’d been a literal pirate for 300 years.
“What do you think of this spot?” Luckily his accent wasn’t going anywhere. It was something I never got tired of hearing. “We should be able to see them perfectly.”
“I think I trust your navigational skills much more than my own,” I uttered with a chuckle.
“Then here it is.” He nodded, placing an arm around my shoulder as we turned to face the water.
A small chime in my pocket made us both glance down. I pulled out my phone and read the text from my dad out loud. “Happy New Year from both of us.” Underneath the message was a grainy selfie with horrible lighting of both of my parents, smiling together. Even given the terrible quality, I couldn’t help but smile at the photo, knowing Mom was finally going to achieve her New Year's Resolution of staying sober this time. She hadn’t had a single slip-up since Thanksgiving, so I knew this time it was real. Out of habit, I reached up for my necklace, but was met with emptiness. Somehow, I kept forgetting I had tossed it into the ocean like a pebble.
Good pic of you two. Happy New Year! We are about to watch the fireworks.
I typed out my response quickly. I could tell by the rise in the voices of the crowd around us that the fireworks would be starting soon. Milo glanced over my shoulder at their picture.
“I still can’t help but feel that your father thinks I’m an idiot,” he groaned.
“I don’t know why you’re so paranoid about that,” I laughed. “I thought it went great when you met them at Christmas.” I thought back to their introduction, when I’d brought Milo back to Arkansas and he’d stayed with us for the holiday. My dad had taken to him right away when he found out Milo knew how to work on motorcycles. Mom was just happy to be back home and sober enough to enjoy the festivities.
We’d picked out a tree together, and my dad had given Milo a tour of his shop, where they both had spent hours talking about engines. We’d even gotten a light dusting of snow.
“You didn't hear some of the things he asked me. He wanted to know things like my plans for the future and what I intended to do with myself. I don’t even know those answers myself yet. I couldn’t tell him that I’ve spent the last 300 years on a ghost ship.” Milo put his hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other as he looked out toward the water.
“I’m sure he didn’t think too hard about it. He likes you, really.” I reassured into his ear, playfully grabbing his shoulder as the bustling crowd around us grew.
“Maybe he likes that I can hold a conversation about alternators, valve covers, push rods, clutches, piston bearings. But beyond that, I made a fool of myself to him.” Milo glanced down at me, something in his hazel green eyes tugging at my depths.
“No, no. My dad trusts my judgment. And if I’m with you, he knows it’s for a good reason. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Just think of what you’ve got going for you at the shop with Noah. You’re already building a life here.” I smiled, thinking of Noah, which subsequently led to thoughts of McKenzie. My high-spirited roommate had been getting suspiciously close with Noah, who spent his time at his uncle’s auto restoration shop when he wasn’t working his weekend shift at the antique store. Thanks to McKenzie’s persuasion skills, Noah had now found himself including Milo in his car restoration projects. Milo had even somehow convinced the shop into letting him take on a few clients just for motorcycles. It had been going well from what I knew.
“I’m doing the best I can.” He nodded. “My father was such a great merchant and businessman. I hope I can continue his legacy. It might look different here, but I hope to find a way to make my way just as he did.”
As the last word drifted from his lips, an explosion of colors lit up the night sky. Beside the moon, a burst of red and gold glittered in a thunderous rumble before cascading down to the watery surface below. More colors began to rain down in a symphony of snaps, pops, whistles and hisses. I stole a glance at Milo, who was watching them with intent wonder.
“I’ve seen these many times over the decades,” he finally uttered, “But not like this. Not this close.” He looked at me and then tenderly reached for my hand with his pinky finger, curling it around mine. “Not with cause for celebration until now.”
As my eyes drifted over the scene of colors, I thought of my own palette of pigments waiting for me back at my dorm. Perhaps I could make an attempt at fireworks over the water for my next painting. Perhaps…
But then, I shook myself from the reverie. I’d promised to take a break from painting until the start of the spring semester. It seemed like a healthy idea, but my mind couldn’t help but see the world through watercolors. So I shelved the idea for later. Naturally, my thoughts drifted to the note I’d been left with at the end of last semester. “I know I probably shouldn’t bring this up now,” I started, looking down. “But I went to Tesoro Del Mar again yesterday. I thought maybe Cordelia would have to be there for their New Year celebration or something.”
“Oh?” Milo raised an eyebrow as he looked down at me through dark brown lashes. “Any luck?”
I shook my head. “No. Same as always. They said there is no Cordelia. I even showed them the letter. They just keep telling me it must be some mistake. It’s so weird.” I had to speak a bit louder than I would have liked over the sound of the fireworks.
“Very strange, indeed.” Milo looked ahead at the fireworks, the gold, red, and white glows flashing across his handsome face.
“I mean, if she’s alive after all this time, what does she want?” I grabbed the railing of the bridge in front of me, pressing my palms into the cold metal. “And why has she waited until now to reach out to me? Has she known about me this entire time?”
“I think we’d both like answers,” Milo said. “Perhaps she’ll contact you again. It’s only been a month.”
