CURRENTS (2020)

I: "Hey, did you hear about what happened?" 

Above Elaine's childhood bed, with its frills and downy comforter, hung a sheer canopy. Deep beneath her sheets she was enveloped in the warm embrace of the ocean. The canopy was her seafoam, rising to the surface; the comforter was her current, pulling her in. As she slept, she mimicked the familiar actions late into the night  -  bend, kick, bend, kick. Her arms would catch in the sheets as she flailed, a tangled mess in the linen. Whenever her mother caught her, she wore an unfathomable expression. 

II: "Did something happen?" 

Today her mother woke her at sunrise  -  not intentionally, but Elaine could hear her pause a few feet away from the door, standing still for nearly three minutes. She counted the seconds in her head. When she hit one-hundred-and-seventy-seven, her mother left, her steps slow and muffled. Elaine buried her head under the pillow to block the light from the window, falling asleep to the rhythmic strikes of raindrops against the glass. 

III: "Apparently some chick died." 

"What's for breakfast today?" 

"I'm having a smoothie. Bananas - " 

"Bananas, strawberries, oranges? You… you make the same thing every morning." 

"Why do you keep asking, then?" Her mother smiled, the blender whirring. Elaine watched her put her fingers to the tips of her graying hair. She wondered if she knew she was doing it. 

Elaine had heard her fussing over it on the phone to Auntie the night before  -  maybe two nights ago. She didn't understand her mother's preoccupation with growing old. It was expected, wasn't it? For humans to grow together and love each other and get old and die. 

She could understand at least that much. 

Elaine watched the blades slice the fruit to pieces. "One day, you'll have something else. I don't want to miss it." 

The blender stopped at the touch of a button. A sweet smell wafted through the room, but Elaine didn't notice. 

"If you don't hurry, you'll miss your first class." 

She heard herself laughing. "I think that's impossible." 

"It's not. I won't teach you if you're not in the classroom by seven." 

The refrigerator was buzzing. Elaine had never gotten used to the constant hum of electricity that surrounded the house and the world around it. Everything was technological, and she couldn't help her preoccupation. When she had told him, prompted by one of his near-intrusive lines of questioning, Michael suggested she might be somewhere on the spectrum. She didn't know what that meant, but nodded anyway. 

"What kind of arbitrary rule is that?" 

Her mother finished off her drink, carefully placing the cup in the sink, as if it were porcelain or glass rather than plastic. As if their sink were something new and foreign. 

"I say it every day." 

Elaine realized she was still standing in the doorway and sat, scraping the legs of the chair across the hardwood. "I guess you do." 

The kitchen light flickered as she buried her feet in the rug underneath the table. There were three bananas on the rack - one for tomorrow, Friday, and Saturday. Her mother went grocery shopping every other Sunday. The bananas were well overripe, and fruit flies were starting to flock. One of them landed on Elaine's shoulder. She watched it crawl down her arm, being careful to remain still, to avoid frightening it away. 

"Ready?" 

She looked at her mother with the same blank expression. "Mm." 

IV: "Some chick?" 

Even without listening for it, she could hear the rain hitting the pavement outside. The room where she took her lessons was close enough to the porch that every sound was amplified. The chair cushions were probably soaked. 

It was distracting. 

The window fogged where Michael pressed his face to the glass. His hair was dripping, even though he had his umbrella. He was short, so he barely took up any space. Elaine wondered if he was standing on his tiptoes, or maybe his backpack. She could have pretended to ignore him if she hadn't heard his finger on the glass, carving out a smiley face that was probably more smudged than he intended. 

Her mother didn't look at him, but rested the marker she'd been using on the ridge of the whiteboard. She seemed to react differently whenever he came by, but her placement was gentle, so Elaine guessed she wasn't upset this time. 

"Shouldn't you be in school, Michael?" 

"What was that, Miss Davis? I can't hear you! It's raining!" 

"We're in the middle of class right now!" 

"Can I come back later?" 

She didn't answer, and Elaine wasn't going to. Not during class. 

He waved jovially, like he wasn't expecting to get to come in anyway. Maybe he wasn't. 

"Are you paying attention?" Elaine's gaze snapped back to the front of her room. Her mother was busy at the whiteboard. 

The day before, three of its corners had separated from the wall, one by one, and the swinging board had nearly shattered the window. But it had stopped short, and her mother fixed it just like new. And it was perfect again. 

"Yeah. Keep going." 

V: "Yeah, some rando homeschool kid. I think I went to elementary school with her or something." 

The old library chair creaked as he sat down. 

"A kiss?" 

She looked up from the page she wasn't reading, feeling her nose scrunch involuntarily. "I don't really like chocolate." 

"How'd you know that's what I was talking about?" 

"Because it's you." Not to mention, she could smell it. "And I could smell it." 

"You liar, it was wrapped. You totally didn't smell it." His words wrapped around the candy he'd tried to push to the side of his cheek. 

"You're eating one. You smell like chocolate." She smoothed out a fold in the corner of her page, breaking eye contact. "It doesn't matter. I'm not hungry. I don't think we can eat in here, anyway." 

"Nobody eats chocolate because they're hungry. It transcends bodily feelings like that. It's bigger than you, or me, or anyone else here. It's good for your soul. Here." 

He held the unwrapped candy in his palm. The sides of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he wanted to laugh at what he'd just said, because it was silly. The chocolate was melting in his hand, so she took it. 

His skin was warm in the places hers never seemed to be. It pulled at her in a way she didn't want to think about. 

"Was it good?"

The lights in the room were brighter than she would have expected for such an old building. They made the words on the page feel like they were sizzling. Maybe it was just her eyes. 

"Hey, hey, it was really good, right? The ones from this bag have been really good, for some reason." 

"Yeah, it was good." She had learned to lie so easily that she didn't even feel guilty about it anymore. "Shut up, before they kick us out and I have to go home." 

"Do you want another? I have a bunch." 

"I'll save some for later. Why'd you bring them?" 

He leaned back in his chair, and she didn't catch his response. "What did you say?" 

He looked at her and grinned. "They were on sale!" 

"Shh. What does that have to do with anything?" 

"C'mon, have another one, just one more?" 

"You want to watch me eat? That's super weird." 

He was still smiling. "I never get to see you eat anymore. It's a treat. I'm happy." 

His hair seemed as if it were sparking, which Elaine attributed to the room's harsh lighting; it was probably just dust. 

She swallowed another. "You're stupid." 

"I just want to know that you're okay." 

She coughed, if only as a distraction. "Didn't you have school today?" "It's an in-service day." 

Elaine wondered if she should pretend to understand what that signified. "What does that mean?" 

"God if I know. But we didn't have school." 

"Oh." 

He picked up an unshelved book on vintage boats, and she watched his face light up. The book was dusty, and the pages were yellow and faded. He looked at it like he was six years old and it was a particularly fascinating shell at the beach. 

He'd always been in love with the ocean. 

VI: "What was her name?" 

Elaine went to the ocean once. She went to the ocean a lot, actually - they all did, Elaine and her mother and her father, too. They were a family. That day, her parents took a day off from work and packed into the van and drove to the shore. Elaine's feet burned in the sand. She rode on her father's back while her mother set up their chairs and towels and paid the umbrella seller for a rental. She looked at her mother and her father, and they smiled and laughed and were happy. 

VII: "Eleanor, or Alice, or something." 

"Did you go somewhere?" Her mother met her at the door. Without looking up, Elaine felt her bristling. She shut the door quietly, hanging her jacket on the hook. 

"Yeah, to the library with Michael. Is that cool? It stopped raining way before I left." She absentmindedly went to touch the chocolates in her pocket, forgetting that she threw them in the dumpster a block away. 

It was probably for the best. She wasn't going to eat them. 

Elaine could hear the rainwater as it dripped from the roof. There was a cat standing in the driveway when she walked up to the porch. It had hissed at her, and she hissed back like a child, stepping over the creature to get to the door. Cats scared her a little. Michael had a cat - he'd had it since they were children. But Elaine had long since forgotten what his cat looked like. 

"Mm. Don't forget about your homework." 

Classwork and homework blended together by nature; the word was useless, but she always said it. There was something else there, though, something that she seemed to be choosing to leave out. But Elaine didn't want to think about it. 

"I've done it all already." 

"Have you?" 

"I've done most of it." 

"Okay." She paused. "You smell like chocolate. Did you -" 

"You know I can't do that." 

They stood and stared at each other for a few seconds more. Her mother's computer dinged - the noise was faint, but it was enough to steal her attention. 

"Okay. I love you." 

"I love you, too." 

Elaine watched her mother's hand on the banister as she walked up the stairs. Chips of paint flaked off and fell to the ground like snow. The kitchen light was still flickering. 

Her jacket slid from the hook and hit the ground. She held it in her hands. It was already cold. 

VIII: "What's she look like?" 

Elaine managed to hold in her vomit until she reached her mother's bathroom. The tile was spinning. Her head felt hot. She had eaten the chocolate from his palm knowing what would happen and she couldn't say no. It wouldn't have been fair. 

She prayed her mother thought she was in her room, so she wouldn't have to answer any questions. It was better to leave things like this unspoken. Her mother didn't need to know. 

Elaine didn't leave a trace. 

IX: "Dunno, don't really remember her." 

The ceiling fan above her head whirred. She wasn't warm and there was no reason for her to leave it on. But it was comforting. 

Elaine's mother had overseen her lessons for five years now. Elaine didn't mind, and couldn't remember ever having done so. It was almost a relief to not have…she didn't know. Whatever it was that she might be missing. Whatever it was that she used to have. 

Her mother was a good teacher. Elaine liked the lessons she taught, and how she taught them. 

If she didn't think about it, it didn't feel so forced. 

X: "I didn't hear anything." 

"I feel like your mom used to like me so much more." Michael leaned back on the park bench, stretching his legs. 

"She still likes you." It was the idea of her being around him so often that her mother didn't like. Elaine knew it, but she wouldn't say it. 

"Doesn't feel like it. Maybe it's 'cause I'm not cute and little anymore." 

She hummed in mild agreement. 

"Are you busy on Friday?" 

"Yesterday was Friday. It's Saturday now." 

"Next Friday, you dumbass. Are you free?" 

"You know I have class…you dumbass." Words like that never felt right coming from her mouth, but they were exciting. And she liked imitating him. 

"After class. Come swimming with me. I promise it'll be fun." 

Whatever that sentence made her feel, she couldn't put it into words. 

"You know I can't swim. I…never learned." It was a half-truth. 

"I figured you must've learned by now. We used to go to the beach all the time. You never learned how to swim after that?" 

"I didn't." 

"I'll teach you." 

"Do you know how to teach someone how to swim? Either way, I can't." 

"You know I can." She did know. He was always in the water when he wasn't in school or with her, for sport, for work, for fun. He was in love with the ocean. "C'mon, Friday. Friday I'll be there, at the beach we used to go to." 

"I won't." 

He was quiet after that, looking at her as if something had changed. When she met his eyes, he turned away. 

"Oh." 

"Hey, don't be sad about it. I just…I can't." 

His gaze was fixed on the grass. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Mm." 

"Why do you never want to do anything with me anymore?" 

"That's not fair. We can do something else." 

"We can't do something else. You never want to go out to eat with me, or do other stuff, either. There are so many places I want to show you, and I just… whatever. It's whatever." He looked like he was going to cry. "Are we even friends anymore?" 

"I don't want to stop being friends with you. I want to be friends with you for as long as I can." 

"Really? 'Cause… cause you don't tell me shit! You never told me why you left school." 

"I -" 

"You told me it was your mom and I believe you, but I… I don't know. I don't know." He cut himself off, looking at her like he wanted her to say something. It was more like he needed her to. It was the way he always seemed to look at her, even though he pretended not to. Everyone was always pretending. 

She looked away, unable to come up with anything that fit. 

XI: "I guess there's not much to be said." 

Elaine went to the ocean once. He was supposed to come, Michael and his family. They went to the beach together all the time, burying each other's feet in the sand and holding hands as they screamed about how cold the water was. It had been that way for years. They watched the boats sail from their spots on his dad's towel  -  big ones, with hundreds of tiny, faraway people on them, and smaller, faster ones that were subjected to their guessing of which would overtake the others first. 

"I want to do that one day," he whispered, eyes fixated on the horizon. 

"You want to what?" she replied, grabbing fistfuls of sand and letting it drizzle back onto the shore. 

"Drive a boat. Or become a diver. I just really like the water. I want to be out there, too." 

"That's so cool!" They sat and watched the waves until her mother told them to pack it up, it was time to go home. They ran up the hill of sand and promised to explore it together, that big and beautiful ocean. 

XII: "What do you mean?" 

"What's for breakfast today?" 

"I'm having a smoothie. Bananas - " 

XIII: "Just, nobody really knows anything." 

"What's for breakfast today?" 

"I'm having a smoothie. Bananas - "

XIV: "What does that mean?" 

"What's for breakfast today?" 

"I'm having a smoothie." 

XV: "Just what I said." 

Michael didn't come by the house for the next five days, so Elaine didn't have any reason to leave. 

Her mother was whistling a song she didn't know. This time, she seemed pleased. 

"You… don't like him anymore?" Elaine rummaged through the cabinet, pretending to look for a pencil. 

Her mother gave her an incomprehensible look. "You mean Michael? You know that's not it." 

"What is it, then?" She had moved onto the drawer, searching intently for something she knew wasn't there. 

"I just think… you've been getting too comfortable." 

Elaine stopped fishing. "Where'd you get that from? Like… I don't know. You haven't said anything about it. I don't get it. I thought we… were comfortable. I thought that's what you wanted." 

"I've just been thinking lately. I haven't done that in a while." Elaine could feel her staring, but didn't turn around. "I don't like that you've been spending so much time with him." 

"I thought you liked him." 

"You know what I mean. You're not - " 

"Okay." She cut her mother off. "Okay. Okay. I get it." 

She closed the drawer.

XVI: "Huh. Okay." 

It was Friday and Elaine wished it was raining so she had an excuse not to leave the house. But the sun continued to shine. 

XVII: "Yeah, it's just something I heard." 

Elaine went to the ocean once and it was beautiful. She looked up at the sea foam, bubbling above her head. The current pulled her close, like a gentle hug. By the time her mother and father realized she was missing, she belonged to the ocean. It was already too late. 

XVIII: "How'd you find out?" 

"Hey." Her mother's empty glass clattered into the sink. It wasn't a sound Elaine was used to hearing. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I don't think I can do this anymore." Her face was rigid. The blender was still whirring. 

Elaine looked up from the blades. 

"Do you mean it?" 

"I mean it." 

"This time, you mean it? Do you really?" 

XIX: "Apparently, that kid had something to do with it? That super quiet dude who's always eating lunch in the library?" 

There was once a boy  -  if you could call him that - who lived with his mother at the bottom of the ocean. His ancestors were famed for stealing the souls of humans  -  killing them, possessing their bodies, and leaving for the surface. He had thought it to be an ancient story until his mother told him she'd done the same, when she was a bit older than he was then. 

He was in love with the ocean. It was his home. When he had heard this story as a child, nuzzled in his mother's wrinkled, scaly arms, he didn't think he'd ever have a reason to leave. 

They lived a simple, tender life, the boy and his mother. They did everything together; preparing meals, holding lessons, and even washing up at the end of each day. She was his everything. But once, he swam to the surface. It was because his mother's stories had made him curious about the lives the humans lived up above, and it was because down here, nobody but his mother would speak to him. 

She'd never tried to hide the truth from him: it wasn't appropriate to seek out life on the surface, not anymore, not for hundreds of years. They were a peaceful species; possession was a feat that no one should aspire to, let alone perform. Nor was it easy to live as a human; things were too different. 

"Whenever I tried the human food, it would burn my insides like fire." 

"Fire?" 

"Ah…it's something that's really hot. And it hurts a lot. Like…" She flicked his cheek, then laughed as he flinched backwards. 

"Mama…!" he cried, his face stinging. She laughed, hugging him close. He began to giggle as well  -  softly at first, then with his chest, like he'd forgotten the pain was ever there. 

"It hurts like that, but ten… no a hundred times worse." 

"Really?" 

"Mm. And touching would hurt, too." 

"Like this?" He reached up to flick her forehead. She leaned back, laughing again, too far for him to reach with any of his arms. She tossed him upwards and caught him in her hands as he sought to regain his balance. 

"You scamp. Any of this  -  me holding you, me hugging you, me kissing you"  - with that, she leaned in to kiss the top of his head -  "hurts really, really bad. Their skin isn't made of the same stuff we are, and… it hurts." 

"Why would you touch anybody if it hurts so bad?" 

She smiled. "Because I love people." 

It was because she'd betrayed her species, going to the surface and returning after thirty years without a word, that she was left to raise her child alone. It was because she spoke to him in the language of the humans she'd lived with; it was because she was closer to the surface now than she'd ever been to those who lived below. 

So they didn't speak to the boy or his mother, and he pretended not to notice. It was something he was good at. 

But he swam to the surface one day. When listening to his mother's stories, he'd believed humans to look just like him. He didn't believe his mother when she'd tried to explain how different they were. But when he looked at them, frolicking above his head, then looked at his face in the broken glass where the sea met the land, he realized they were not the same. They seemed more fragile and had less arms. Their skin was less vibrant, and their scales were smooth and dull, if they were there at all. He marveled at the way they moved around on the land. 

He realized he was afraid of them before he realized that one of them was very close to him. He recoiled without knowing, and the human boy jumped back as well. 

They looked at each other and didn't say anything. He wasn't sure he would have been able; he felt more immobile than he ever had before. 

"Michael!" 

Another human shouted; he imagined it to be this child's name. It sounded like a name. The boy returned to a group of his kind who looked very happy to see him: a girl, two men, and a woman. He watched them fidget around, touching each other and holding each other and laughing together. And for the first time, he felt that he wanted that, from someone else. From someone who wasn't his mother. 

So he kept coming back, and he looked for those humans each time. He watched the children as they played in the sand and held hands, screaming about how cold the water was. He watched them as they watched the boats sail, from their spots on the land. He watched them laughing and crying and screaming and shushing. He was always watching them, whenever he could. 

And he fell in love with them, the same way he loved his mother. 

He often invited her to join him on his trips to the surface; it wasn't like him to keep his joy to himself. She rarely accepted his invitation, but joined once or twice, when his arguments won her over. 

"What are those?" 

"Well, those are swimsuits. Humans wear them so they can come into the water." 

"Why do they need them?" 

"Mm… because they can't wear their clothes into the water." 

"Clothes?" 

"That's what they wear when they're not near the water." 

"Why don't we have clothes?" 

"We don't need them! We live here." 

"Then, why don't we have swimsuits?" 

"Because swimsuits are for humans." 

That day, they held hands as they swam back to their home. But he kept looking back, unsatisfied in a way he didn't quite know how to place. 

XX: "Did he have something to do with it, you think?" 

One day, he swam to the surface alone. 

He watched her, "Elaine", and the humans who were her mother and father. He watched them as they smiled and laughed and were happy. He watched them as she rode on her father's back, and he watched her as she drew closer and closer to the tide. 

And then he looked away. 

She had gotten too close, and he didn't want her to see him watching. There was something terrifying about being noticed, being seen. So he drew back. 

It was just a second. Maybe it was longer. Maybe it was a minute. 

But when he looked back, she was gone. He scanned the beach, thinking she'd gone back to her family. But she wasn't there. 

And he saw her shoe bobbing a few feet away. 

So he dove under the surface, and he was too late. Maybe her leg had gotten caught on something. Maybe she forgot she couldn't breathe underwater. 

But she was sinking aimlessly, like there was no more life in her body. 

He didn't want those humans to stop coming back. He didn't want them to be sad. 

So he swam, cradling the girl's body gently in his arms. 

XXI: "You mean, did he kill her? I dunno. He does give off that kinda vibe." 

"Mama." 

She smiled, opening her arms to her son. She first took in the look on his face, then the bundle in his arms. Her expression became something he couldn't recognize. He later realized it to be pain. 

She took the girl from his arms, examining her body for a justification. "What happened to her?" 

"I… I don't know. But she was in the water for too long, and she's…I don't know." 

"Why did you bring her to me?" He didn't say anything, and couldn't look directly at her. 

"My love… are you planning to leave for the surface?" Her voice was shaking, as were his hands. "You'll take this girl's life?" It was a heavy question to ask a child, but it was a heavy choice to make. 

"She's already dead. I'd be giving it back." 

"Possession never works as well as expected. Nothing has changed since I was your age. I can't promise you it will work on her." 

"Please, Mama. If there's a chance." She looked at him for what felt like an eternity before collapsing to the sea floor, holding the girl to her chest. 

"I don't want you to leave." 

"Then come with me." 

"You know I can't do that. You need a fresh body, and I won't kill someone. Not again." 

"I… I can't stay, Mama. I don't want those humans to be sad." 

"You… I thought I would have more time with you. You're still so young. You're still… " 

He swam to her side, throwing his arms around her as she trembled. 

"I think I need to do this." He could barely speak. His voice was no louder than a whisper. "I'm still alive. You know I'm still alive. But she's not, and I… I think I can make those humans happy. If I pretend. I don't want them to be sad. Not like that. But if you want me to stay… I don't want you to be sad, either." 

They sat in silence, the human girl wrapped in his mother's arms, his mother wrapped in his own, the water still and quiet around them. He thought they might never move. 

"Okay. I'll… " she paused, as if unsure about the words she was saying. He felt her grow less tense underneath him, her grip relaxing. "I'll show you how." 

XXII: "What have they been saying about him?" 

"You… you stole my daughter's body. I've wanted to call you a monster this whole time." 

"But you didn't." Elaine laughed, but there was no joy in her voice. She was looking at the kitchen floor. The wood was coming apart where it met the walls. "You knew I wasn't your daughter. You were just using me." She chose to leave out, "And I wanted you to." 

"Like you weren't doing the same? This is my house. I could have kicked you out any time I wanted to." 

The gas on the stove was still running, and it made the room feel hot. 

"But you didn't. Because she… her memory… was that important to you." 

"She was my daughter! I would have done anything for her." 

"I saved her. I gave you back your daughter." 

"How am I supposed to know you weren't the one who killed her?" 

She was shouting now, and Elaine wanted to scream back. But she didn't. 

"You've given me a home. You've taught me every single day. You still don't trust me? She drowned. It… it wasn't my fault. You could have lost her that day." 

"I did lose her that day." 

"If you really believed that, you wouldn't continue to call me by her name." She reached to turn the stove off, but her mother caught her wrist before her hand reached the dial. 

"Audell was right. I never should have listened to you. You've been tricking that poor boy this whole time, and I've just been letting you." 

XXIII: "Apparently he freaked out the night she died. I guess anyone would, right? They were friends for a really long time or something, and I hear she died in his arms." 

When Elaine's father pulled her body from the water, he hugged her fiercely, sobbing. Her mother's hands were warm as they gripped her fingers. They stayed like this for nearly an hour, until the sun began to set. Her father carried her to the van, and they drove home in silence. 

So that was what fire felt like, Elaine thought. 

It took a few days for her parents to notice that something was wrong. It was her father first, put off when Elaine didn't understand how simple things worked, like her bed, or her shirt. It began with whispers to her mother, then psychiatric evaluations with unsatisfying results, then fights with unsatisfying conclusions, then leaving without saying goodbye. It was because she didn't know how to speak to anyone besides her mother, her real mother. She had grown up hearing stories of humans, but that didn't mean she knew how to live with them. 

When she realized she was beginning to regret her decision, the only thing she could do was to tell the truth. She had never learned how to lie, because she'd always told Mama everything. 

"I'm not your daughter." 

Her mother looked up from the chair she'd been staring at. 

"You're confused. You almost drowned, you know? Come, come eat." 

Her mother, her new mother, didn't believe her. Maybe she didn't want to. The more Elaine insisted, even after her father left  -  maybe because of it  -  the more her mother swore nothing had changed. She unenrolled Elaine from school, swearing to oversee her lessons herself. She wanted to believe it was something she could fix. 

But she couldn't keep up the facade when she realized her daughter no longer ate. She followed her one day, finding the stash of untouched meals Elaine had learned to toss in the neighbor's dumpster. 

So she listened. 

"Your daughter drowned." 

"I… I know that. You drowned, or you almost drowned. But you came back." 

"Please listen to me. I'm not… I'm not one of you. My kind lives at the bottom of the sea, far away from yours. Your daughter died. I didn't do it. I didn't have anything to do with it, and neither did you. I just wanted to give her back to you." 

"What the fuck are you." 

It was colder than anyone had ever spoken to her before, even those who had shunned her and her mother back home. It was painful in a different way. 

"I don't know the word for it in your language. My mother told me not to speak to you in mine. She told me many things about you before I came. But I wasn't able to get it." 

"You have a mother." She said this question too as if it were a statement, as if she didn't believe it. 

"I have a mother. I think if I died she would be very sad. I… I watched you all a lot. Your family, running and laughing and playing at the beach. You were so happy when she was alive. So I decided… I wanted to keep her that way. Alive. But there are a lot of things I can't do." 

Her mother's face grew less taut. "What… what does that mean? What can't you do?" 

"I can't eat your food, or I'll get very sick. I can't return to any body of water, or I'll be forced out of this body. I can't have physical contact with any of you for too long, or the pain will be unbearable." 

"So I couldn't give you… so I couldn't hug my daughter?" 

"You could. But I think it would hurt me." 

The room was silent. 

"If you want me to leave, I will. I don't want to make you sad." 

"If I ask you to leave, I'll never see Elaine again?" 

"If you want to take her body, I won't stop you." 

"I can't do that. I can't see her… like that." 

Elaine watched her tears glisten as they rolled down her face. She grabbed her mother's hands, softly at first, then tighter as the pain of the simple gesture washed over her. 

"Then I'll stay. I'll stay, and I'll be your daughter, and you'll teach me on your own, like you wanted to. It'll be okay." 

Her mother didn't respond, but she gave a smile that looked like it hurt just as much. 

XXIV: "That's kind of romantic, isn't it? Dying in someone's arms?" 

"I thought I'd been a good daughter. I was never late for class. I didn't mess up the kitchen or the bathroom or the bed where I slept." 

"Maybe if it were just me, but you're… we're lying to him, too. I… I don't even know how old you are. I'm realizing… I've realized I don't know anything about you. You've been pretending to be her for so long that I've forgotten where she stopped and you started." 

"Is this it, then?" 

"I can't do it anymore. I can't pretend everything is how it was when you don't even… eat!" 

Elaine looked at her mother. It was painful. It was so painful, and she couldn't even cry. She had never been able. 

"Thank you, Mama." 

She left her mother sobbing in the kitchen, walking out without taking anything with her. 

Nothing was hers, after all. 

Fuck it, right? The word felt strange, even in her head, but she was too upset to fully notice, to even attempt to laugh at it. Five years. Five years? What did that even mean? She still didn't entirely understand human time. Nothing worked the same as it did back home, and she'd thought it was fine, if it was for the sake of their happiness. 

She gripped the sides of her pants, a physical sensation to distract her from the buzzing of the streetlights. The sidewalk was cracked in a way that was usually comfortingly familiar. As she walked, she couldn't remember the feeling. She couldn't remember if it was real, or something she'd imagined for the sake of having something to latch onto. 

Maybe Elaine should have died that day. Maybe all this was just prolonging the inevitable. She couldn't be Elaine. She couldn't have what… whatever it was she had wanted from coming here. Nothing was hers. 

So she walked to the beach for the last time. He wasn't hers, but Michael would be waiting for her there, anyway. 

XXV: "Is it?" 

And he was. He perked up like a dog when he saw her face. She gave a faint smile, and walked down the sandy hill. 

Her mind wandered. She knew he was in love with Elaine, whose image was slipping away. She had realized it years ago. And even if she could continue to pretend, even if she could hold him without burning up inside, she only had two arms. And she couldn't eat his chocolate. 

And she missed her mother, her real one, so, so badly. He held out his hand, as if knowing she would come. Even though she said she didn't know how to swim. He seemed to always be able to tell when she was lying. Maybe he knew all along that Elaine was gone. Maybe he would be okay. 

"Remember this? We said we'd explore this whole thing someday. If you say you forgot, I won't believe you." His arms were shaking, even though it was warm. 

And she sat next to him, and held his hand even though it burned. 

"I remember." 

And they sat there, watching the sunset as the tide drew closer and closer. 

And Elaine's body went limp as she was enveloped in the cold embrace of the ocean.