There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. I’m pissed at him, but I’m also elated to hear the subtle soft tones of his voice. Like a warm breeze on an open beach on the first day of summer.
“So . . .” he begins, and I can feel the hesitation in his voice. “So, I’ve been feeling pretty bad today.”
“Okay . . .” I say slowly. “Me too. But why you? You go first.”
“I—I uh . . .”
I wonder what he’s going to say. That he’s with another woman? That was his fish girlfriend? That he loves someone else?
“I saw my sister today.”
“Your sister?” The words come out a little too loud, a little too surprised. I rein in my anticipation. I don’t want to seem weird on the phone. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Yeah. She’s older than me. I’m the baby in the family. Or was . . . at least . . .”
“Oh,” I say quietly. “Because of your change?”
“Yes. But it’s complicated. I don’t blame them for turning their backs on me. And Delaney, that’s her, my sister, she tries, you know? She tries to understand.”
“But they’re your family. Why would they turn their back on you? It’s their job to accept you.”
The words come out of my mouth, but I don’t even know how. Has my own mother ever accepted me? Although my father did once. Before he died. Even when I was young, he accepted me.
“I was taught never to talk about it, but my family is wealthy. Really, really wealthy. It’s how I manage to survive, actually. I have a trust fund, and I’m able to keep track of it because I can access the internet, obviously. That’s what keeps me going. That, and the fact that my dad owns the building I live in. He thought it’d be a safe place for me to hide. No one there but retirees. But I used to work. I just had to quit my job when . . . well, when things became a little too obvious. It was either quit or who knows what would’ve happened to me. I still freelance, but I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to work a real job again. I’m just glad my parents didn’t take away my trust fund. Or I don’t know what would happen to me.”
“What was your job before?” I ask because I’m acutely curious about him. Both who he used to be and who he is now. And what that all means for me.
“I’m a programmer. I code. Always had a brain for patterns and languages and that sort of thing. I made pretty decent money. Still do with my freelance work, actually. But all that’s kind of different now.”
“So, are you and your sister close?”
There’s a pause. “She tries. She really does. That letter on my doorstep the other day . . . That was from her. But she did come by to deliver another message today.”
“What?” I ask.
“She wanted to tell me that my parents found a surgeon.”
“A surgeon?”
“Yes, one who they think can, well, put me back the way I was.”
“Is that possible?”
“He’s discreet. Apparently, he does work on celebrities and billionaires, so it’s in his best interest to keep his mouth shut. My family has money. So, I looked through it . . .”
A mix of emotions runs through me. “You’re considering this?”
On the one hand, if Mack had surgery, maybe he could have a normal life again. Maybe he could be that guy in the framed picture on his wall. Be the guy he presented himself as on the forum where we met.
And maybe he and I would actually have a shot together. We’d be like two normals in a normal world, just doing normal people, normal world things. I know it’s a selfish thought to even include myself in this discussion. I don’t even know him that well. Although, that’s not true. We’ve been talking for a long time. And we . . .
Well, we did what we did together. That counts for a lot for someone like me.
But on the other hand, maybe it would ruin him. Maybe putting him back to normal isn’t the answer at all.
I like Mack the way he is. I like him exactly the way he is.
Gills and all.
Mack clears his throat. “I’m going to be honest with you. I did think about it.”
“Oh.” My tone falls. “I see.”
“But I have some concerns. The surgeries . . . they’re still pretty rudimentary. They don’t quite look right. There’s something uncanny about them, especially when they’re meant to force someone back to the way they were. Plus, the scars . . . And I’d potentially have to continue the surgery process throughout my life. You know, if the transformations are ongoing. It doesn’t seem like much of a way to live, does it?”
I don’t know what else to say. I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “That sounds awful. I’m so sorry.”
“There’s more. The company I’ve been freelancing for. There have been some discoveries recently . . .”
“What do you mean, discoveries?”
Mack sounds thoughtful. “There might be other solutions. But drastic ones. I just . . . I don’t know yet. They sound crazy, to be honest.”
“Everything sounds crazy.”
“Yeah. I agree.” He’s quiet again. “You know what the worst part is about all this?”
“Tell me.”
