An Ordinary Drowning, Book One of The Mermaid's Pendant Read Free Page A

feet and a mad,
yet fruitless, search of the scrub around the shore. Whatever girl? woman?
superwoman? had pulled him to safety must have hightailed it along the path
back to Carlos Rosario. Or maybe there was access from the nearby Tamarindo
Estates. Zoë would have stood over him, hands on hips and smirk on lips, until
he’d stumbled upright with his head hanging. Frustration filled him, drowning
his shock. He couldn’t remember what she looked like. A bleary memory of long,
wet hair that could have been any color swam across his mind’s eye, panning out
into a clearer image of breasts, small and strangely vulnerable. If ever he saw
those breasts again, he’d recognize his rescuer—and cover her up. Given that he
wasn’t likely to see any other breasts than Zoë’s for the foreseeable future,
his frustration magnified ten-fold.
    A
nagging bladder drew him from his predicament and the mundane act of pissing
behind a tree brought him back to himself. He felt as empty as the stony
shoreline, as blank as the impervious waves, drained and hollow from his
struggle. He couldn’t stand here all day, longing for an ephemeral sprite to reappear
and finish saving him. Maybe he wanted some magical creature to enter his life
so badly that he half-believed that she had, but nothing had changed from the
time he’d gone under to the time he’d awakened on shore: the sun would still
set tonight on dreamless sleep and tomorrow it would rise on unfulfilled
fantasies.
    He
looked around, trying to get his bearings. Directly opposite him rose the
jagged outlines of a cay. He’d have to take the path back north toward Carlos
Rosario where he’d left his gear. There was no way he was getting back into the
water. He’d gone only a couple of feet along the path when a prickling
sensation along his spine caused him to stop. Yet when he looked behind him, he
saw nothing but the regular lapping of water on stone. No one watched him.
    By the
time he returned to the Playa Flamenco campground, his frustration and
emptiness had bottomed out into resignation. He was accustomed to the hilly
terrain of Pittsburgh but had no stamina for Culebra’s dry heat or the uneven
trail. His head hurt and his throat had constricted around a layer of dust.
He’d earned a sunburn from going so long without a t-shirt. All he wanted now
was air conditioning, low lights, and a cold drink. A shower was out of the
question. He wouldn’t get one of those until Zoë arrived in two weeks and they
stayed at Tamarindo Estates.
    Against
all expectation, there weren’t any places to retreat to near here, not even a
stand to buy a bottle of water or a soda. He’d known that Culebra was
undeveloped, a “hidden jewel in the Caribbean,” but why hadn’t someone set up
at least one thatched-roof shack with an ice tub filled with drinks and a
hot-dog steamer? No wonder all those people on the ferry had lugged those huge
coolers with them. One of the world’s ten best beaches and you were on your
own. He’d hiked into wildernesses with more civilization.
    He
consulted the island map that he’d gotten at the dive shop. The closest
restaurant outside Dewey was at Tamarindo Estates, but it only opened on the
weekend for lunch and dinner. He suspected that it was what passed for nice on
Culebra. He didn’t want to wait two hours while covered in trail dust to order
a beer there. Tamarindo Estates was the only place near where he’d
almost drowned, but he couldn’t be sure that his rescuer had any connection to
it. And really, what would he say? Any of your guests like to swim topless in
the canal?
    There
weren’t many other options. On the way back into town, there was only The Happy
Landing Café near the airport. Beyond that, there appeared to be only two or
three standalone eateries in Dewey. Either way, he was on foot. The prospect
didn’t appeal to him, but he decided that he could kill a few birds with one
weary trip: he’d rent a bike, report the lost gear,