Hart of the Sea

Chapter 4

The bitter air singed the insides of my lungs like I'd swallowed fresh lava.

I coughed. And coughed. And coughed some more, until my throat was so raw that it felt as though a shark had taken a bite out of it. Then, the coughing finally slowed, until it stopped altogether.

I was breathing. It was ragged; uneven. The sharp edges of each inhale cut along my throat as the air sliced its way down to my lungs. But I was breathing, if you could call it that.

What does this mean? Have mer been able to breathe air this whole time? I didn't understand how or why this was happening, but I couldn't complain. Now that I knew I wouldn't suffocate, I could spend as much time in the overwater cave as I wanted, observing a little piece of what life was like in the Surface World. That is, only if this air-breathing thing got any easier.

I coughed again, a new shard of pain tearing up my throat, but thankfully it wasn't followed by more coughs. I shakily leaned back on my hands, watching the few humans that had arrived at the beach go about their activities. One human in particular had caught my eye; she was sitting at the end of the driftwood structure I'd discovered, the one that stretched outwards from the shore. That girl...I couldn't fully see her face from where I sat in the cave, but I admired her buoyant, dark-brown loose waves of hair that the wind blew over her shoulders.

It was fun to watch. I'd only ever seen how hair behaved under the surface; how long hair swayed like seaweed fronds that were caught in a current; so it was interesting to observe how different it was out of the water: each individual strand of this girl's hair played with every light breeze differently, making a pattern up as it went and then changing its mind, switching it up again.

I kept my eyes glued to that girl, whose gaze was fixed on the horizon. There was something about her posture, about the way she leaned forward eagerly, but held herself back at the same time...it was as if she wanted so badly to jump into the water, to be a part of it, but was reluctant for some reason.

What do you see? When you look out at the expanse of ocean, do you wonder what's out there, in my world? Like I wonder about yours?

#

Keeping my new habit to myself was difficult, but I had to. It's not like I could go around telling everyone I was breaking the law. It wouldn't be such a problem if I hadn't expected to return to the shallows after that first time, but for some reason I couldn't help myself from going back any chance I got. The thrill that buzzed through my veins from swimming through that kelp forest and seeing the surface grow closer with every finstroke was unbeatable.

I was surprised that it grew into the addiction that it was, as I found the shallows themselves to be quite dull. There were barely any fish, and almost no seaweed. Just plain, shallow water. I didn't know why I was expecting more; after all, they were just called "the shallows" for a reason. But against all odds, I couldn't ignore their call, or the call of the Surface World. It felt as if I were being slowly ensnared within an octopus' many arms, drawing me in, not letting me go. The pull was inescapable, and I couldn't explain why.

I was disgusted with myself for feeling that way. Why have I been so quick to disregard every lesson mer are taught from birth? Why have I been so quick to turn my back on my people? My friends, my family? What have I done?

But I knew that no matter what I told myself, now that I'd started, I couldn't stop going to the shallows. Their pull was too strong; I couldn't ignore it.

The overwater cave I'd found was one of the benefits of going to the shallows. It was in the perfect place for observing the shore without being able to be observed by any humans on the beach. Plus, while it was on the small side for a cave, it was much more spacious than my room at home. I got to stretch out my tailfin without hitting the wall on the other side, which was a welcome contrast to what I was used to. Another bright side: I was able to get lost in my thoughts without interruptions. That was probably my favorite part of being in that little cave.