“Burnside is alive and well.” Cosimo frowned. “And I suspect he’s the one who sent you these things.” He gestured to the folder of clippings and the two reels. “He was always sentimental. Looks like he kept every last clipping and photo of yours.”
“I don’t understand.” Goldie’s tears spilled over now, leaving hot and cold trails of light on her cheeks, much like the ocean water had left on her legs.
“I will leave Burnside to explain his part in the tale to you. But for now, what you should know is that I am sorry. I have no right to love you, but I do. I always have. And I only want to make things right.”
“Whatthings? Why are you telling me this now?” She wanted to beat her fists against his chest. She wanted to make him, make her understand. “Can’t you put my memories back?”
“Your memories are the least of what I took from you, Ondalune.” He took another step back from her.
“Why are you telling me this now? Why are you even here? What do you want from me?” Goldie felt a new emotion beginning to bloom from the seeds of her frustration. Anger. She was angry. “You say that you loved me, and I assumed I loved you as well, but then you left me to live alone for the last century? And you took my memories? You didn’t even leave me with the understanding of what I truly am? How could someone who loves me do such a thing?”
The water in the fountain swirled as her anger took hold. It rose in a funnel, a tiny tempest that she only half understood was her doing, and she wasn’t sure how to control. It was all too new.
“Why would you do that to me? Erase my memories and leave me alone? Please don’t tell me again that it was ‘for my own good.’” She spat out the words.
“I was afraid,” Cosimo admitted, watching the water gather and rise. He stared with wonder at the jewel-like droplets as they swirled around him.
“You were afraid of me?” Goldie rested a hand on the seahorse sculpture’s back.
“I was afraid you would leave. You wanted nothing more than to find your people, to return to the sea. You wouldn’t listen to us when we warned you of the war that still raged beneath the ocean. I couldn’t risk losing you, too. Not like that.”
“So you decided for me?”
“Yes.” Cosimo nodded. “I did. We did.”
The water from the fountain continued to expand, now surrounding all of him. It formed chains that knit themselves together. When he ran a hand over them, they stretched to accommodate the movement, but did not yield. He studied his hand, which was still dry.
“I haven’t seen you do this sort of water weaving before. It’s amazing.” He gazed in awe.
“Why are you here now?” Ondalune swept the photos back into the folder and tucked it into the tote with the film reels. “What do you want from me?”
“I wanted to apologize. And I wanted to say goodbye.” Cosimo stood still, staring at her through the wall of water. “In a few days’ time, it won’t matter anymore. I will have put an end to the curse and to my wretched existence. And you will be free. Free to live the life you choose. You are not old, Ondalune. In your native world, you are still a young woman. Living on land took a toll on you, but once I am gone, you will be free to choose where you want to go, and what you want to do.”
“You’ll have to do a little better than that,” Goldie said. “Do you even know how ridiculous this all sounds to me? A couple of weeks ago, I was afraid of getting wet because I might get a painful rash. And now I’m supposed to believe that I have a family that lives beneath the sea?”
“You’ve seen it with your own eyes. And you can feel it. You don’t need me to tell you that part is true. Your body remembers it, doesn’t it?”
Suddenly, she saw herself as a vision played out on the screen of water surrounding him. It was almost as if the film reel were playing again. She was swimming away, toward the depths of the ocean. She could feel the cool water rushing like silk against her skin as she used her tail to propel herself forward, powerfully, effortlessly. And then she saw herself as a child, delighted with the tub her uncle Burnie had provided. A safe place for her to play. She saw her mother’s look of horror and revulsion when she emerged.
And lastly, she saw herself as an infant. A man emerged from the sea, carrying her, bundled in a basket of woven seagrass. It was dark outside, just before dawn. There was snow on the beach and the wind whipped the frozen dunes. He set her beneath the boardwalk, where the wind was less fierce. Then he sat down beside her on the sand, waiting and watching for something. Someone? When he spied the arguing couple coming toward them, he leaned in to kiss her cheek, and then he took something from the basket. A deep red stone, set into a pendant on a chain. It glowed ominously, casting a red light from which tiny blue bolts of lightning showered sparks on her. They dotted her skin and her blankets with tiny stars. The man held the chain suspended. Then wrapped it up in a cloth. He stuffed the cloth into his breast pocket and stepped away from the basket. He barely looked back before running back into the sea, leaving her alone on the beach.
She sensed a theme.
“What is it, Ondalune? Is it a vision? What do you see?” Cosimo asked from within his watery prison.
“I saw my uncle,” she admitted. “He abandoned me on the beach.”
Suddenly, she felt old again. The surge of energy she had felt with her anger was gone. Her hands were shaking, and she longed to sit down. The tunnel of water surrounding Cosimo crashed to the ground, splashing the tiles and flooding the patio. It coursed in a stream toward the tote bag full of her photos. She lunged to retrieve it before it was destroyed, but Cosimo was faster. His mouth formed an “o” shape, and he turned slowly, blowing gently at the ground. The water immediately evaporated into steam.
She had no idea what he was, but of one thing, she was sure. He wasn’t a threat to her. He had not hesitated before using his magic to save something that she cared about. She suspected it wasn’t the first time. He might have lied to her, and her feelings might be muddled, but her body knew better. She had nothing to fear from this man.
But getting reacquainted might prove difficult. When Goldie looked up again, Cosimo was gone. It was just her and her beloved sea creatures, standing alone in the night.
Temporal porting requires the acceptance of a profound truth: that you can exist in all moments simultaneously, though your consciousness typically experiences only one timeline at a time.
The strangest experience isn’t visiting your past, it’s encountering yourself there and realizing you’re both the same and different, like meeting a twin who shares your memories but has lived them differently.
BURNSIDE PORTER,THE WAY OF THE LEY
