Toronto, one year later.
Vacation has begun again, and who would have thought that a year had already passed since vacationing on an exotic island turned into a nightmare? Exactly twelve months ago I fell in love with a boy, spent a few hours on the beach with him, kissed him.... He turned my head so much that I couldn't forget him for a long time. Even now I mention him all the time. I wonder if he is okay? Is there a chance that I will ever meet him again?
I know it's crazy and may seem strange to everyone, since I didn't know anything about him, and yet I spent an evening with him.
I can't explain the feeling that hit me then with redoubled force when I saw him for the first time. No boy had ever made such an impression on me before, and it's amazing since I lost my head for him in one evening.
I don't know what happened that night. Apparently, the police found the perpetrator, but it turned out that the handsome stranger vanished into thin air. No one knows what happened to the boy, a junior colleague of the victim, but I heard that the authorities declared him dead, although the body has still not been found.
I still think about the time he spent with me then. I wonder what was the reason for his strange behavior? Did he already sense something at that time? Did he know that he was in danger?
- I feel like smashing that bottle over your head to make you finally come to your senses.
I look at Henry's face for a long moment, wondering if he is talking to me.
- What?
- Egg. I've been talking to you for five minutes, and you're thinking about blue almonds again. I bet you're reminiscing about that dead guy from the island.
- It is not said that he died. I have some kind of telepathy with him, because I feel that he is still alive.
Henry is milling his mouth.
- Maybe he has turned into a mermaid and has fucked up across the sea.
He always manages to make me laugh.
- Any other ideas?
- One hundred percent he was a mermaid. Didn't you mention that he had red hair like Ariel?
- Don't compare him to a girl. He was sexy. I was attracted to him," I say, putting my fingers to my lips, "There are few guys who hit my taste.
The friend makes an offended face.
- Because your taste is strange. How can you sigh for a guy with red hair and a blue bandana on his head? My knobs would hurt just looking at him. - Henry rolls his eyes.
- It's a good thing your brain doesn't still hurt from thinking," I bite back, snapping him on the forehead. - You would change your orientation if you saw him.
I see a shadow of disgust on his face.
- The only guy I would change orientation for is you, if you were born a man.
He looks at me with amusement in his eyes, and I guess that at the moment I look stupefied.
- We've been friends for so many years, and I'm still not used to your strange expressions.
I rest my cheek on my hand and look at the people passing by us. I focus my gaze on a young man who is taking care of his daughter. The girl angrily throws a strawberry ice cream on the sidewalk, looking at her dad with an offended gaze.
I can see that the father has no experience in taking care of a child and doesn't know how he should behave in this situation. He yells at her and tries to reason with her that he can't do that, but she assumes a combative position, resting her hands on her hips.
It looks funny because the girl is so pretty in the pink dress she is wearing that she looks like a porcelain doll. She doesn't take her eyes off her dad, not intending to let up at any cost.
She already has a temper, so what will it be in a dozen years or so?
- I bet you behaved the same way at her age. That's why your father is fed up with you.
Henry puts the bottle to his lips and takes a sip of the orangeade, and I take advantage of this and hit the saucer. The drink spills on his face.
I force a mischievous smile as he looks at me with deadly eyes.
- Why do you always tease me? Two days ago, you squeezed the shampoo out of the tube when I smelled it. People in the store looked at me like I was an idiot.
- I'm doing all this out of adoration for you," I announce, with my fingers squeezing his orangishly sticky chin.
- There's a reason everyone says you're a mean monkey.
I cross my arms over my chest, watching Henry wipe his face with tissues.
- And is it my fault that the girls I know are fake?
- In high school you didn't have female friends because you were known for your crazy ideas. I heard that in first grade you took Naomi shopping and gave her some nasty stuff to drink, telling her that she would lose ten pounds afterwards. She spent half a day in the bathroom, so she may have lost weight, but she didn't want to know you any more.
- After all, I didn't lie to her. She wanted to lose weight, so I helped her. - I shrug my shoulders.
Henry sighs. He's sick of me getting into trouble all the time.
- May you grow up in college.
*
I put my arm around my friend's shoulder as we walk through the park, eating ice cream. It's late in the evening and my dad calls me incessantly, claiming that being eighteen doesn't give me the privilege of loitering at night as long as I live with him. In Toronto, we don't come of age until nineteen, which is a downside.
Sometimes I get fed up with his control, but I know he only does it out of concern for me. Today's streets aren't safe, you constantly hear about kidnappings or murders, so my parents think that I, too, may eventually fall victim to some psychopath. They don't believe me when I assure them that I transform from a cute girl into a violent beast while defending myself.
If only they knew that there was an incident in the past when I beat a boy with a spiked leather purse.... they probably wouldn't be so worried about me.
Fortunately, he was such a gentleman that despite my bloody face, he did not press charges.
I guess it's my innocent face that saves me from a lot of oppression. Everyone thinks I'm cute.
- From your detailed stories, I gather that exactly a year ago you were playing with a dead man on the beach. - Henry glances at his watch. - It is twenty-three o'clock.
- Stop calling him a dead man. I believe he is alive and now charming another girl with his appearance.
A shadow of a grimace runs across his face.
- Are you, by any chance, obsessed with him? You met him a year ago. You spent just a few hours with him on the beach, you didn't even learn his name, he probably died that night, and you still think about him! Go get treated, girl. I don't know who he was, but he made your last neuron fall off.
I teasingly pull his hair.
- I would give myself to cut myself to meet him again.
- That's why I say you are psychotic and should be treated. Maybe he belonged to some sect? You know how they easily confuse people and drag them to their side? Maybe that's why someone finished him and his friend?
- So he is no longer a mermaid?
Henry thinks about the answer for a moment.
- I take back my words. However, I stay with the mermaid theory. These creatures make people fall in love with them in a matter of seconds, and this is how they choose dull brides.
- Blunt!?
- And will you tell me that you are intelligent? I find it funny that you didn't even get to know the guy well and after a year has passed you still think about him. I feel like giving you electric shocks.
- Are you jealous? - I squint my eyes and look closely at his face. He bursts into artificial laughter.
- I don't know what to be jealous of. To me you are like a sexless earthworm," he announces, shrugging his shoulders.
I aim the creamy ice wafer I'm holding in my hand straight at Henry's face. I clutch it to his nose, laughing throatily as he looks like a penguin from my vantage point.
He looks at me with mournful eyes, and the ice falls to the sidewalk.
- You always torment me physically.
- And you torment me mentally.
Something moves in the bushes. A black cat runs out onto the sidewalk, and Henry snarls in disbelief because he thinks it's a bad sign.
- Black cats are symbols of witches. They like to stay near them. - His gaze suggests that it is me - as usual! - he has in mind.
- Your humor floods a person to tears," I bite back, taking my phone out of my pants pocket. My father's number appears on the display. I answer it. - Dad, I beg you, give me half an hour and I'll be home. I'm with Henry, so I'll be fine.
- It's just his company that bothers me. How would this skinny guy defend you in a moment of danger?
I roll my eyes.
- That's why I have told you many times that I will be the one to protect him. I can turn into a real beast.
- You sound like you're drunk. I'll see you home in twenty minutes.
He hangs up, and I look at - dirty from ice cream - Henry's face. The boy fulminates me with his eyes.
- Does your father think I'm a faggot?
- He thinks you are mentally strong, but your physique is too thin for you to protect me.
The smile goes out of my face when, at exactly twenty-three fifteen, I get a message from an unknown number. I furrow my eyebrows, reading the same sentence several times.
"I don't know who you are, but please help me."
- What is it?
- I got a strange message. - Henry reads the text message and just nods at it.
- Come on. I'll bet someone got their jollies.
But a shiver runs through my body as I recall the island boy. Could it be a coincidence that I got a text message just the same day I met him, between the hours I spent with him a year ago?
After all, I gave him my number. Although he promised that I would definitely hear from him, I knew he wouldn't, since he had been declared missing.
- Henry, what if it's him? - I ask my friend, once again looking at the same message. - Is there even a slight chance that the text message is from him?
- Then why did he write that he doesn't know who you are?
- Maybe something happened to him?
- It's a joke, Solar. I'm more concerned about your behavior. Get over this guy.
The boy shakes his head and with the back of his hand wipes his face, soiled with creamy ice. I stare at the phone, getting the strange impression that this message might be true.
I probably tell myself that it's a handsome guy from the island, but what if someone really needs help and it just happened to fall on my number?
I can't ignore a cry for help, even if it's a silly joke from one of my peers. I know I shouldn't call the number if there's actually something going on, but hearing that person's voice will be a better confirmation for me than writing a message.
I swallow my saliva harder when the person answers the call from me after a few beeps.
- Hello? - I say uncertainly, clutching the cell phone in my hand.
For a long moment, no one answers, but I hear heavy breathing caused by fatigue or panicky fear.
- Help me. - His voice sounds desperate. It is filled with monstrous suffering. - Help me, please.