Morph, My Story Read online

seen a lot. Been everywhere that you can get to from a boat and they all claim to have the best.”

  “Everywhere?”

  “Almost,” Nick replies while nodding his head remembering and then agreeing with his own statement. “I started when I was Dillon’s age, just left, went from boat to boat, doing odd jobs. Did that for over thirty years. Makes you old living on the sea, but just living makes you old, so I’m glad I spent most of it out there.”

  “Any regrets?”

  “Not doing more stuff for others, like you.”

  “Nobody else out there is like me. The doctors say I’m unique.”

  “Then someone not like you, but also deserving her first snorkeling trip in the ocean. Maybe next time you’re down here, I’ll hire you to become part of the crew.”

  “Now you’re talking crazy, what would I do?”

  “Still haven’t had you out there fishing for marlin. That might be your thing.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  Mom comes back to the room while Nick and I are still on the balcony. Only traces of light remain from the sun already turned in for the night. She seems happier, ate a real meal downstairs, probably had a glass or two of wine. Guess this is not one of her top ten vacation days either.

  Day 6 – Thursday Night

  I wait until I don’t hear anything from Mom in the other bed before getting out of mine. The sheet slides out with me, stuck to my skin from a thick sweat covering my body. I peel off the sheet and put on a shirt. I’m leaving. I’m so close to the ocean and I need to be closer.

  Taking the winding path through the mangrove trees at the back of the hotel I get to the dock. Tomorrow is our last day here, only time to watch the other kids play and then the drive to the airport. Once on the dock, the wheels rhythmically thump marking my progress across the slabs. With my heart matching the beat I near my goal. Away from the artificial smells in the hotel, this is my last chance to feel the ocean.

  Behind me a waning moon rises over the hotel, its rays lighting up the top of the water. It’s calm on this side of the island tonight; the tops of each lapping wave stretch only inches to enjoy the moon’s glow before gravity gently pulls them down.

  A broken fin strikes through the surface. He’s coming. He jumps in the air, joyfully playing as he approaches. Others swim along with him. The pup from the other day tries to stay close to his mom with multiple short arches by her side. At least seven other adult females move around in front of me, but I wait for him.

  He rises up just beyond the edge of the dock and does a backward flip in the air. He’s showing off for me. Water splashes the dock, the few drops that hit my arm feel warm and I rub them, mixing the salt water into a sticky film rising from my pores.

  Whatever is oozing out of my skin has seeped into my shirt. I take it off, as it has become a wet mess. I’m still wearing my swimsuit, haven’t gone full crazy, and I feel better without the clingy t-shirt. I wait for the next splash and I’m not disappointed as Sam directs the water right at me.

  I need more, and try to lift myself. My muscles resist this simple task that this afternoon would have been no problem. I’m only able to get inches off the seat, but it’s enough to allow my body to slide down the front of the wheelchair. It works, but it is not a graceful exit. My body thumps and rolls a bit on the dock finally resting me on my side. The nice thing about my unorthodox dismount is that I’m closer to the edge. I can partially get upright but fall back down. My arms are unable to fully support my weight. With these attempts, I’m able to rock my body back and forth. Getting some momentum going, I slowly inch closer to the side of the dock. Nothing is going to stop me.

  Sam does another flip, the splash from his entrance washing over my entire body this time. The salt tingles on my skin. As the water pools on the dock I’m glad that I’m wearing only the bathing suit as every inch of exposed skin rejoices. I need more.

  I’m not going back to Oklahoma tomorrow. Waking up in a hospital this morning pulled me back to reality. Even if I did make it back, what then? More tests? More chemicals poured into my dying body? I’m losing this fight, the change accelerating and beating me. I can’t control what happens to me inside, but I can a least control how I live for these final days.

  I make it to the edge. Leaning out I can see the dark waters below me. With no real waves the water fails to get any closer. I lean and stretch my body, willing it to move further, my shoulders now hanging out over the water. Sam jumps again.

  It’s time. While he’s in the air I stretch further out, and we fall together towards the ocean, our combined splashes cover the dock. I try to catch the edge, doubting my decision for a second, before the murky water consumes me, no coral reefs or tropical fish greet me underwater, just jagged barnacles witnessing my descent.

  Above me a snarl of dolphins crisscross, weaving in and out blocking that route to moonlight. Instead of holding me up to breathe the dolphins swim between the air and me. With each pass they scrape across the top of my head and back, knocking me down. With each strike I sink further in the dark water, my plunge stopped by only the shallow bottom less than fifteen feet deep.

  Around me, instead of the pristine coral reefs, I find old bottles, cans and other discarded trash tossed from above. I don’t want to be here. I need Thor, I need to be home. The dolphins continue swimming over me, keeping me down with each glancing blow.

  Curling inward I wrap my arms around myself. Closing my eyes I hear the whistles of the dolphins seemingly coming from everywhere. One whistle deeper than the rest keeps repeating the same notes over and over.

  I open my eyes and see Sam hovering in the murky water in front of me, the source of the sound, while around me a now milky residue seeps out of my skin. With the water fighting to enter my throat, a bubble of air escapes from me, one of the last, as I shut my eyes for the final time. A bitter cold radiates out from my heart, while pain swells from my lungs as the salt water now encounters cells previously only exposed to air. I know there is no air, but I want to breathe, and I involuntary gulp more water.

  I grasp my necklace with my fingers as my arms remain locked in a permanent hug, the hardening of my exterior accelerating and unstoppable. I feel Sam pushing me across the bottom with his nose. My bathing suit catches on something and rips. As I tumble across the sand it loosens further, my body rolling across shells and bits of trash. Small pieces of this polluted ocean floor attach to my body attracted by the sticky ooze secreted from my pores. With each tumble more accumulates on me. A pasty gritty film covers my face locking my mouth shut and covering my nose. They will find me down here hardened and curled up like one of the last citizens of Pompeii.

  Day 7 – Friday Morning

  I hear the whistling. It’s Sam. I recognize his voice. He wants me to play. Play?

  A translucent surface with crisscrossing dark streaks surrounds me, bathing the liquid interior in a dim white light with soft shadows. Hazy water surrounds me, but my body feels normal. No panic, no dizziness. My arms and legs compete for the limited space inside this enclosure, while bits of sand float before my eyes. I follow the path of one speck as it slowly lands on my shoulder.

   Just on the other side, Sam moves up and down tapping his nose against the thinner areas of my prison. I uncurl my arms feeling the smooth texture of the wall trapping me. The surface flakes away with each sweep of my hand, tossing clear flecks into the already contaminated mixture around me. No corners to this barrier, just an organic sphere encasing me.

  Maneuvering within the confines of this enclosure, as skin touches skin I realize my arms are smooth. No lumps, no hard patches or strands disfigure me anymore. My fingers glide over my arm feeling this reborn limb for the first time, and the smoothness extends to my shoulder and chest. I’ve lost the exterior casing that ruled my life. In this dim light, I need to know, moving my hand up to my face, exploring my nose, mouth even my checks, everything rough gone, replaced with a fresh smooth layer covering my body. I’m new. Looking a
t the thin walls around me, I recognize the familiar constellations crisscrossing the enclosure as the ones that covered my old body.

  Play? The whistle returns.

  I begin to bang on the surface trapping me and from the outside a knock echoes back from Sam. I pound on the enclosure, striking it harder and harder. It’s then that I begin to feel the pain. A weight crushing down on me and causing my head to pound. Looking down in the limited light I see my chest rise and fall. With each contraction, blood and bits of shell flow out of matching crescent gashes on each side of my body. I’m alive and breathing, but trapped. Water flows in and out of these new exits, through a maze lined with millions of cells pulling oxygen out. Bits of shell float around me and with each contraction of my chest more join the chorus. A primitive part in my brain recognizes the peril of remaining within these walls.

  Above me Sam continues knocking and a crack appears. I pound harder from the inside, feeling the wall shift. Another hit, a chunk breaks off, enough for blinding light to enter. With an opening barely wider than me, I leap upwards ripping through the enclosure shattering fragments trying to prevent my escape. Sam rushes forward and together we move upward. As I swim up I’m taking deep gulps of water that rush through me. I feel no fear of drowning or desire to breath air. For the