There are shadows beneath his eyes. Silvery gray little smudges I’ve never seen before.
I, on the other hand, feel like a brand new person. A newborn. A baptized saint.
“I slept like a baby,” I say.
When we leave the tank, even fewer words are exchanged than were the night before.
Mack simply towels me off, one limb at a time, the rough fibers of the towel scratching along the length of my skin. Then he slides his fingers beneath the straps of my G-string and slides the wet, tiny scrap of fabric down my legs. It sucks to have to step back into my clamshell bra, but Mac gives me a T-shirt to wear over it and a pair of light blue shorts. I push my sandals back on my feet.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” I say, fumbling with the hem of his T-shirt.
I bring it to my nose and breathe in. It smells like sea air and something else, not quite identifiable. Something otherworldly that doesn’t belong here.
Mack tosses the towel over his shoulder. It reminds me of a move by a professional swimmer, his motions so graceful and easy, his muscles so bulging yet defined. “Thanks for taking me out. I almost felt like I belonged for a moment. I almost forgot.”
I perk up at that. Because it’s true. He did belong last night. We belonged. We belong. “See! There are places where we can be together. Safely. Last night proved that to us. We can live in this world together.” I gesture with my arms wide, but I’m only gesturing to the confines of his apartment. “Right?” And while my voice might fall, I’m hopeful. Optimistic. Excited. All new feelings for me.
The corners of Mack’s lips lift only slightly. A sad kind of smile. “Sure.”
“What do you mean sure? Don’t you see? Everyone was all dressed up like you last night. We can go to every drag party the city has. You’re kind of in drag, right?”
But he shakes his head. “You know better than that. This isn’t a costume, Jules. I can’t take it off. This is who I am, not what I wear.”
The distance between us stretches again. Always the constant snap back and pull of the rubber band. So close, but so far away.
I blink my eyes, imploring him with my gaze. “Don’t go silent on me, okay? I swear to god, I’ll freak out if you do. If you just suddenly ghost me after this. If you act weird or distant. I’ll stalk your apartment. I’ll come here every single day and pound on your door.”
He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. “Promise. Promise on my life that I won’t.”
Before I turn to leave, his voice stops me.
“Wait, Jules, one more thing.”
I pivot back around on my toe, expectation brimming. “Yes?”
He walks to his small tank and picks up the crab, coming back to me with the little creature in his palms. “I think he belongs with you.”
Chapter 23
Istagger home with my mind completely distracted, partially destroyed possibly.
When I get inside my apartment, the first thing I do is gently drop my new little aquatic friend into the tank.
“I think I’ll name you Bug,” I say to him.
He scurries away into a dark little hidey-hole created by rocks in the corner of the tank.
I stare at the tank for a bit, like I’ve always done. But this time, I don’t need it to help me breathe.
I’m clear and open.
So much so that a yawn overwhelms the back of my throat. Fuck, I’m tired.
I slouch off to my bed, falling into the hug of seafoam green sheets, and drift away.
***
When my eyes crack open, my bedroom is black, darker than it’s ever been, even with the blinds drawn. My heavy eyes adjust to the pitch of the room. Air swirls above my head like a rushing waterfall. Is my ceiling fan running on high, or are my ears broken? Is this a dream? Or is my consciousness active? But a light breaks through at the corner of my room. My eyes adjust again to the change. It’s coming from my aquarium. My no longer empty aquarium. My now living aquarium. I squint, pushing my hair from my eyes, peering through groggy lids. My limbs weigh a million pounds.
I shake my head because a narrow but bright circle of light emanates from directly in the center of the tank. A black shadow crawls along the illuminated curve, almost frantically, excitedly, like it’s looking for something. Or sending a message. Like a lighthouse flashing the attention of boats. Or Morse code. What is it? The circle crackles, fiery and electric, the bright color flushing from orange to green to yellow. Or maybe I’m hearing things, seeing things. Inside the circle is nothing but a black swirl.
The shadow crawls along the line of the curve again, and it dawns on me what it is. It’s my crab. But what’s he doing with this weird orb? What is this thing? He’s like a spider in a web.
Although my brain insists on pushing my body out from the bed to inspect what’s happening, to clarify that I’m hallucinating, to confirm that there is certainly a reasonable explanation for what I’m seeing—sleep paralysis demons, perhaps— my body protests. My toes resist the wiggle. My back sticks like a magnet to a metal board. My eyes weighed with the heaviest exhaustion.
Have to get up. Need answers.
But my body has other plans. My lids close shut, the contours of my limbs are enveloped by the mattress. And in another moment’s time, I’m once again surrounded by darkness of a different kind.
***
I’m back in the creaky chair in front of my computer. The screen glows. The blinds are drawn. My robe has been collected from the floor, arms pushed through, sash tied tightly. I’m alone again. Naturally. Well, except for my rainbow crab.
This morning, after waking up in a disconcerted haze, I crept over to his tank, groggy and confused from my dream from the night before, and peeped over the cover. I couldn’t find him because he was hidden away in the nooks and crannies on the floor of the enclosure.
But in the reflection of the light from the window, a thin line of a circle, like a sunburst, glimmered for a moment against the glass. I shook my head to clear my vision and drew the blinds, then looked back into the tank. No more glowing circle. I let out a breath, and the tiny crab inside creeped out for a moment and then halted, his small primitive compound eyes still and focused on me. I looked back. And then I had the strangest feeling that he was trying to say something. A talking crab? All things considered, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen to me this week. My adrenaline spiked, but just as I opened my mouth, he hurried back into the nook of a dried sea barnacle resting on the bottom of the tank.
“Hello, Bug,” I called into the tank to the hidden crab. “You still look like a little brown bug to me.”
