Mermaids in Paradise - Lydia Millet (phonics story books txt) š
- Author: Lydia Millet
Book online Ā«Mermaids in Paradise - Lydia Millet (phonics story books txt) šĀ». Author Lydia Millet
Five million years, I thought, lying back again.
It was warm in the back there, stuffy and warm, and as the sting sharpened and then abated, sharpened and abated, I wondered if I was falling asleep. The Hummer bounced over potholes, leaving behind an invisible stream of global warming . . . it had taken our ancestors four million years to figure out fire. It took them five million to develop writing. And then, in a great accelerationājust a brief, screaming handful of seasonsāwe got electricity, nukes, commercial air travel, trips to the moon. Overnight the white sands of the parrotfish were running out. Here went the poles, melting, and here, at last, went paradise.
The writing gave us everything all of a sudden, then nothing forever.
I WOKE UP to a mild wind sweeping in from the open doors of the motel bedroom. I lay alone on our bed, my leg wrapped in gauze. It was dusk, I saw from the pink sky. No one was in the room with me, but I could hear their voices outside, where they were milling around the pool.
I must have needed the rest, I thought; maybe it was the shock of the injury. I didnāt have much experience with pain, accident, or traumaāIāve had an easy life, letās face it. Iād thought the leg was no big deal. But still Iād slept through the afternoon.
I didnāt want to move yet; I saw my cell phone lay on the bedside table, and I reached out for it. There was a text waiting: Call me when you wake up. <3 C.
So I did, I lay there on my back on the cool linens and I called Chip, and he came in. He sat on the side of the bed, then lay down beside me, careful not to nudge the hurt leg; he asked if I wanted more painkillers.
It wasnāt so bad, I said.
He said that was because theyād given me codeine.
I wanted to know what Iād missed.
āThe crowdsāthe haters?ātheyāre not accepting that the mermaids are really gone,ā he said. āTheyāre everywhere, looking for them. Trying to hire out boats, dive equipment. Itās a madhouse at the marina. A lot like it was before. The armadaās come back in, mostly to service them. So even without the mermaids, the Venture of Marvels is making a tidy profit. Right now, at least. Itās going to be all the local authorities can do to keep the crowds from destroying the reefs here.ā
āOh,ā I said weakly. I closed my eyes again.
The sense of peace Iād had after the whales took the mermaids was dispersing like smoke.
āThe good news is, the Coast Guardās going to be pitching in and Thompsonās reinforcements came through. Wild, right? Can you believe the old guy actually has pull? So thereās a Navy boat on its way. Thatās the good news, honey. Thereās pretty solid help coming.ā
I was tired. It wasnāt just the codeine, the leg acheāI was more tired than that.
āBut thereās not so much you and I can do,ā he added. āI mean, Nancyās staying. Sheās on sabbatical anyway, so she doesnāt have to go back and teach. And she feels like she has to go to bat for her parrotfish. Plus the locals can use her biology expertise. But I was thinkingāsince obviously we donāt want to go back to the resort, and this motelās booked up now, even this crappy place is full, so weāre going to be kicked out in the morningāwell, I was thinking weād get on the ferry and go to the U.S. Virgins, just the two of us plus maybe Ellis and Gina. We can spend the rest of our vacation there. Iām thinking the best would be St. John. I was going to book us there in the first place, you know, before I saw how Gorda had that floating restaurant.ā
āArenāt there crowds on St. John too?ā I asked.
I still wasnāt opening my eyes; I lay tucked into Chip like a small child. Iāve always liked that about Chip, his height and broad shoulders, the fact that he can enclose me.
āNo, the haters are only in the British Virgins. None of them really went farther west than Tortola, apparently. Itās too far away from where we saw the mermaids, you know, in the U.S. Virginsāpeople wouldnāt have the access theyāre looking for. But listen. On St. John thereās a two-bedroom bungalow on the top of a small mountain that had a last-minute cancellationāwe can rent it for a whole week. I checked. It has a private yard, these flowering bougainvillea vines all over the place, even a rose trellis. It has one of those infinity pools, Deb. You always wanted to swim in a pool like that, didnāt you?ā
āIāve always wanted to swim in an infinity,ā I murmured.
āAnd it has a great view of the ocean.ā
āChip? Sweetheart? I wonder if we should just go home,ā I suggested. āHome home. Back to the Golden State.ā
I thought of those angry crowds teeming onto the coral heads out there, slashing the corals with those long rubber fins, of Nancyās silly-looking parrotfish with their bulging lips, those innocent fools of fish. Poor things. Just swimming around with no idea what was coming.
I felt like crying again.
āDeb, no, heyāthis was a victory. Maybe not ours, exactly, but still, it was a victory for the mermaids. The Venture didnāt get to them, and maybe some small part of that timing was us. Maybe, partly, with our distractions and our interference, we held them off until the whales came. Think of it that way, babe.ā
āIāve always loved your optimism,ā I said.
āDeb, look. The reefs
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