Henrietta’s espresso machine and I are in the throes of a competition to see which of us produces the most steam. So far, its neck and neck.
Almost twenty-four hours has passed since my sisters chastised me in the kitchen. Why they think the minutes that separate us in age give them the authority to lecture me about anything is beyond me. As if either of them have pearls of wisdom to offer when we’re in the same place in life. I was present, accounted for—and even took notes—when our mother taught us how to behave in a human world.
Anger simmers in my gut as Lazuli and Larimar’s whispered conversation burns in my memory;
What joy can there be in beating everyone when they’re human and you’re half-fish?
You did the same thing when you were little.
I was just a kid. I quit before anyone noticed anything weird. Eadie is almost seventeen. She shouldn’t need the swim team by now.
“You okay, Eadie?” Jennifer, my coworker, pulls cartons of half-and-half and almond milk from the mini fridge under the counter and refills the carafes. “You seem distracted.”
“Yeah, sorry. My sisters sometimes drive me crazy, that’s all.” I scoop grounds into a filter lined basket and slide it into the coffee maker to brew a fresh pot.
“Hey, I’ve got four older brothers. Believe me, I get it.” She tosses the empty cartons in the trash and screws the lids back onto the carafes.
“At least they’re actually older than you.”
“Well, you’ve got me there. You and your sisters are the only triplets I’ve ever met. I hate sharing a bathroom with my brothers. Never mind a birthday.” With a lighthearted laugh she whisks the carafes away, winding her way to the self-service station.
My sisters and I share a lot of things. I don’t mind that. What I mind is their inability to understand that the differences that make us fraternal triplets on the outside, exist on the inside too.
Business at the cafe picks up and I welcome the distraction. The hiss of steam from the frother, the gurgle of the automatic drip and the whir of the blender. It helps to drown out my sisters’ voices, and by extension, my mother’s too. By my seventh half-caf frozen double-whip mochaccino, I’ve all but forgotten why I’d been upset at the start of my shift.
Then Seth walks in.
My heart doubles its pace. I’ve never had the nerve to talk to him outside of taking his order at the cafe. He’s a loner, and projects a friendly but cool please-keep-your-distance kind of vibe. I don’t need to ask him what he wants. Much like his facial features, his preferred drink is etched into my brain; double espresso with a side of steamed milk that he can add himself. I think of it as the flat white for coffee lovers with trust issues. I give the requisite opener anyway, smiling.
“Welcome to Henrietta’s. What can I brew for you?”
He surprises me by squinting above my head at the chalkboard full of cartoony drink possibilities instead of asking for his usual.
“Yeah, I’ll try an…umm.” Seth glances over his shoulder as if to gauge the patience of the line behind him. Except there isn’t one. He spears me with a look. “What’s your favorite drink?”
“My fave…favorite…drink?” I stammer, brain misfiring from the shock. Seth Foster wants to know what I like. This is literally the first time he’s ever said anything to me besides ‘the usual, please’. I’m lucky when I get that much. Half the time it’s Jennifer working the till and I have to settle for putting bubbles into milk that will shortly go down Seth’s gorgeous throat.
“Yeah, I mean, you work here,” he says. “You know all the best drinks, you’ve probably even invented some.” He leans forward, a smile spreading across his face. “Got anything off-menu that’s good?”
I fight back a laugh. The only secret in Henrietta’s is the fact that I’m a mermaid.
Aquamarine releases Nov. 30, 2023.
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