Ace sat in the hold in front of the ship’s stove. While those were designed to cook things on, it could be used, in a pinch, to keep a young person from freezing to death. For obvious reasons, fire was not very popular on board ships, which tended to be made from things like wood, which has historically gotten along very well with fire. On a ship, that wood was covered in varnish and tar, and carrying an open flame inside one was a lot like dressing up like a steak and going swimming with piranhas. One way or another, you’re going to get into trouble, and it’s going to be entirely your own fault.

But an exception was made for food, because people like food, and they like it even more when it’s not exclusively salted, pickled and otherwise extremely long lasting. A ship’s cook was a respected member of the crew, when they were good at their job, and had better have been a good swimmer if they weren’t. They would know how to smoke, charbroil and dry out a steak, fish, or, as the situation demanded, a freshly caught Ace. 

Occasionally, someone would come over to the shivering Ace and spin them a bit on their chair to ensure an even roast and that they were dry all the way through. Ace themself was still recovering and didn’t register people manhandling them, nor did they mind. They were, obviously, equally busy processing the fact that their life had been saved by what could only have been something they’d heard about in myths. The problem with something happening to you that you can’t explain is the decision you’re now suddenly faced with.

On the one hand, you can ignore what happened. Most people know exactly what to expect out of life because they’ve been at it for a while, and making it make sense has become a habit that’s hard to shake. Most people, myself included, would like it if life was just that little bit more easy to manage, without all of those weird outside influences that make your life suddenly very weird, like a chance meeting with someone you’re sure you’ve met before despite knowing you haven’t, that feeling of being watched by something that lives in the corn field, or who forgot to put the milk back in the fridge. Life has many mysteries and sometimes it’s best not to try and figure them out. At least, that’s how a lot of people do it. 

The other options are a lot scarier: You acknowledge you experienced something unexplainable. If you’ve ever experienced something like that, you’ll know what I’m talking about. This option is so scary because now you have to consider the following: did that actually happen, or am I seeing things that aren’t there? And then comes your final, terrifying choice: Do you tell people? Do you act like what you saw never happened? Do you act like you might need something to keep from hallucinating? But what will happen if you’re not hallucinating and you take the medication? 

Of course, not a lot of those thoughts went through Ace’s head. This was only in part because they’d never heard of antipsychotics. The other part of it was that Ace never felt the urge to tell people things. They had no innate impulse to brag, or even really share their feelings. It wasn’t so much that Ace hid their internal life as that sharing it simply didn’t occur to them. So of course, Ace was left with a much simpler dilemma: what to do about the pearl the shark mermaid had given them?

They looked at the pearl from time to time. It was blue and gold and incredibly smooth. It was almost impossible to properly touch it. Something about its surface made their fingers slide off of it. It felt like trying to hold on to a ball of water. It also felt like it was a part of the ocean. If you cut off a piece of a mountain, technically you now just have a small rock. But this small rock remembers what it was like to be a mountain, and it will always be a little heavier, out of spite. Similarly, this pearl had an ocean-esque quality to it, like it was just a part of the whole and Ace wasn’t holding it, it was just a small part of the large volume of water that was holding the ship Ace was in, and Ace had better not forget that. It also smelled vaguely of fish.

After a while, Tall Tom came to visit them in front of the stove and sat on a small chair next to them after urging the cook to take an impromptu break. It took him a moment to start talking, his usual razzle and/or dazzle absent from his face.

“Thank you,” he said, in a way that made Ace feel strange. Uncomfortable would not be the right word, because that implied that Ace was not constantly experiencing some form of discomfort at all times. But there was a sincerity to Tall Tom’s demeanour that caught them off guard. Tom looked at him, his clean-shaven face a mask of seriousness.

“Not a lot of people would even think about jumping into freezing water like that, Ace. Especially for a crew they hardly knew.”

Ace agreed. Not a lot of people would, which was probably why Ace had. They didn’t like waiting for reason to kick in before doing the right thing, so doing the right thing came before thinking about doing the right thing. It wasn’t the safest way to live their life, but they’d never valued it much to begin with. 

“You did good. Very good.” Tom seemed to be struggling with something. In Ace’s experience, that was because people had bad news to share that they didn’t know how to share, and urging people to talk was often the fastest way to get them to stop. So they just waited for Tom to work up the courage to say whatever it was that they were scared to say. 

“Look… we leave at the crack of dawn, tomorrow. A bit before, if we can. We’re leaving, and we’re not coming back here for a while, all right?” That had been the expected turn of events as Ace had expected them. This was nothing new. Why was Tom being so withdrawn about this? The obvious answer, of course, is that there was something right there, something so close they could both feel it; Ace didn’t know what it was and Tom didn’t want to say, as if pretending a snake didn’t exist would keep it from biting you.

“If you’re coming with us, Ace… You’re probably not coming back here. Ever.”

There it was, Ace thought. The thing Tom had been scared to tell them. Of course, Tall Tom Gold had no idea that Ace’s attachment to the town was so light that I’ve deliberately omitted it from the story up until this point. I want you, reader, to care as little about this bothersome, boring, lazy little town as Ace did, and a name would give you reason to humanize the bothersome, boring, lazy little people in it. Please don’t. They were almost all unpleasant, and the fact that they will soon be gone from the story should only be a cause for celebration. But Tom didn’t know this. And he seemed to be preemptively apologizing for something.

“I… that is to say… we think you’ve got a good spot on this crew. We think there’s a place for you here. But I’ve got to tell you again… we’re not coming back here. Probably not ever. And if you’re coming with us, neither are you.”

Ace was fine with this, and nodded. Then they realized that more was probably expected from them, going by the way Tom was looking at them. Sometimes people want to hear a verbal confirmation to make sure you heard what they said. Sometimes, people want to hear a verbal confirmation to make sure you understood what was said. Tom was hinting at something, and Ace’s brain was still set to defrost. 

Simply put, Ace did not understand what Tom was trying to say.

“I understand,” they said. You know, like a liar.

Tom nodded, undeservedly relieved. 

“I’m glad you understand, Ace,” said, and then, like the sun suddenly appearing from behind a particularly aggressive raincloud, his smile was back. To Ace, it was almost like an entirely different person was sitting in front of them, and Tom patted them on the shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow then, Ace. Before dawn, eh?” 

What he did then confused Ace to no end. That is to say they understood the behavior itself to a certain degree, but the problem came from the fact that it made no sense in context.

“Yarr,” Tom said, and winked. 

If Ace had not understood what Tom had meant earlier, they had now achieved a nirvana-like state where they retroactively understood less than what had been said before, a sort of negative understanding of what was going on or going to happen. But there wasn’t much they could do about that now, so Ace just stared at Tom blankly and nodded. Tom got up, his grin now firmly reaffixed to his face.

“Get some sleep, Ace. Remember, early tomorrow.”

Ace nodded and shifted their weight as Tom left. Standing up and stretching, they found that they were, if not completely dry, then at least medium rare, and sitting in front of the stove wasn’t going to achieve much more than making them slightly warmer. The pearl still clutched tightly in their hand, they attempted to begin making their way back home. I phrase this so awkwardly here because it’s important to understand just how many sailors were intent on shaking their hand before they left the ship.

Most people wanted to say a few words of thanks or congratulations, while others wanted to have something like a heart-to-heart, impressing on Ace just how much of a hero he’d been to jump into icy water for someone they barely knew. Ace kept bouncing from one person to the next, until suddenly, they were standing on the dock on their own. The whole experience had been an overwhelming blur, so the fact that they could breathe was a relief. They realized that the reason this had only happened now was probably because Tom had expressly forbidden them from bothering Ace, and they were grateful for the fact that they’d had the chance to thaw in relative peace, at least.

They made their way through the harbor, which was filled with a specific kind of activity. Anyone who has ever worked retail knows the kind of frantic energy people get when they know they’ll get to go home soon. It’s the knowledge that a warm meal and a soft sofa are within reach and that only this and this need to be done and technically you’re only supposed to do those things after you close up shop but nobody will mind if you do them now and that means that when closing time hits you can just slam the doors shut and go home. That kind of activity. People were yelling, because they hoped that yelling would make other people go faster, so they could go home already, thank you very much, but the yelling of course didn’t help and made other people anxious and everything was going slower which led to more yelling. This was the evening routine and nobody was planning on changing it any time soon.

Ace wondered what exactly was so special about tomorrow, and shoved their hands into their pockets to keep from getting too cold as they began to head home in a light jog. Soon enough, they’d left the harbour and its yelliness behind them, the pearl still warm and smooth in their hand. It was hard not to be aware of it constantly, and they kept feeling it, the oceanic quality of it. It was exactly like holding on to the sound of breaking waves, of running your fingers over the smell of the sea breeze, but also entirely different. 

When they arrived in their room, the weight of the day’s events had already begun to weigh on them, so they just threw themselfves on the bed. Some offended squealing later, the maltreated bats were released from the bed. Before dozing off, Ace put the pearl on their night stand, and looked at it until it was the only thing in the world, and then finally that went black, too.