Call of the Water (COMPLETE)

32. PEARL OF THE SEA

"Do you think this will do?" My mother returned, holding up a black wetsuit. It was a full length suit that came with a hood, matching gloves and boots.

I smiled to encourage Ms. Cyan to maybe do the same. Her eyes were on the wetsuit in my mother's hands, but I could not read them.

"You can put it on there, in the bathroom."

"Perhaps this is not a good idea," Professor Cyan muttered, but my mother left no room for discussion.

"Of course it's a good idea! Once you see all the underwater marvels, you'll be glad you came with us."

I hadn't been this excited to open my Christmas presents as I was when I waited for Ms. Cyan to come out of the bathroom. Those fifteen minutes felt like several hours.

The door cracked open, and a head covered with a hood peeked out. "I feel silly," Professor Cyan said.

"Never mind that! Does the suit fit?" I asked. My voice was surprisingly high as I tried to catch sight of her.

"Do not laugh," she said and cautiously stepped out of the bathroom.

"I knew it would fit you," my mother stated. "I'll go get ready myself. Azora, you should too. Let's not keep dad waiting."

As soon as she was out of sight, I stepped closer to Ms. Cyan. I knew where I should look. The gloves on her hands and the boots on her feet completely hid her scars. The suit was successfully hiding the bulges on her neck making it impossible to figure out there were gills under the skin covered by the wetsuit.

I rushed to put my suit on. By the time I returned, Ms. Cyan and my mother were already outside the house.

The sound of a motor roaring startled us. Ms. Cyan turned her head in the direction of the sound. I didn't need to look to know what was going on. My father woke up our boat from its seven months long sleep.

"This beauty hadn't been on the open sea since September last year. It's about time to reunite it with the big salty water," he stated.

"It's about time the rest of us get reunited with the big salty water too," I added.

Ms. Cyan looked at me with confusion written all over her face. There was no way she would be able to know why we were referring to the sea as the 'big salty water'. My father knew, and so did I. Those were the words I used to describe the ocean in the days before I fully learnt their language.

She turned her eyes towards the sea as if it were something forbidden. The need to help her had never been stronger. The sea, the water that was caressing the pebbles on the shoreline ever so gently, was Ms. Cyan's enemy. She made it into an enemy by refusing to go anywhere near it for so many years. I was determined to make it her friend once again.

° ° ° ° ° ° °

Margarita Maris was the name written on both sides of it. It was in Latin, meaning Pearl of the Sea. Our boat was small, it measured no more than four meters in length. Its colors complemented those of the sea. Navy blue on the outside, the colour of the ocean depths; turquise blue on the inside, the colour of crystal-clear shallows; white trim on the edge, the colour of the foaming sea.

When I looked at it, I saw freedom. I could only imagine what Ms. Cyan saw when she looked at it.

About twenty minutes later we were out on the sea. My mother sat on the bow. She loved sitting there, with her feet catching the waves the boat created. My father was in charge of operating the motor which meant he was sitting in the stern. Two thwarts were stretching across the boat. Ms. Cyan sat on the one in front and I sat on the one behind her.

Margarita Maris glided over the surface of the sea. The wind died down to a breeze, calming the waves as well. The passing of our boat caused ripples in the water on either side of it. The water looked like it was turning into foam. It was no longer navy blue, but it became white. Thousands of bubbles were bursting as the water splashed around the boat.

Ms. Cyan's eyes were glued to the water that played with the Margarita Maris. For several minutes she seemed hypnotized. She lifted her head to look at my mother, but her back was all she could see. Then she turned to throw a glance my father's way. He waved and she smiled. Her smiled looked deceitful. For a moment she looked like a child up to no good.

Sitting behind her, I could not see exactly what she was doing, but she got me worried when she bowed her head and hunched her back. About a minute later I noticed her arm stretching out. The glove was gone, her palm was bare as she extended it towards the water.

I moved to the side to obstruct my father's view of her hand. My eyes kept shifting between her hand and her face. I could only see her profile, but I could tell that an honest smile was struggling to surface.

The moment her fingers touched the water, her eyes closed and a smile emerged.

As the Margarita Maris sailed on, taking us further from the shore, Ms. Cyan's hand played with the sea water for the first time in decades. Her eyes followed the motion of her hand and it seemed that they didn't notice the scars on her fingers.

Her movements were so elegant. In soft sweeps she was stroking the water and, at the same time, the water was stroking her. The waves caused by the passing of our boat were rising towards her outstretched hand, forming a glove made of foamy water around it.

The beach was nothing but a blurry line when the boat stopped. My mother jumped right in, disappearing under the waves for a few moments only to surface several meters away. She smoothed her hair back and said, "Come on! The water is wonderful!"

My father needn't to be said twice to join her in our watery playground.

"Are you ready?" I asked Professor Cyan whose face revealed indecisiveness. She placed both palms on the thwart and looked into the depths.

"It's okay. It's only water. You know water," I tried to pass some of my courage to her.

Flipping my feet over the gunwale of the boat brought them in contact with the water. One push was all that was needed for my body to slide into the sea.

"Now you," I said and stretched my hand towards my apprehensive teacher.

Slowly, she mimicked my movements. She let her feet touch the water before allowing the rest of her body to follow.

For the first time in over three decades, Iris Cyan was swimming in the ocean.

Every now and then you realize that the world is full of wonderful people. To me, those people are you, my dear readers.

Thank you for reading, commenting and voting.

If you liked this chapter, you can let me know by leaving a line or two or by tapping the little star.
💙