The thing about Old Man Larry is this: he’s not actually off his rocker like everyone thinks.

Sometimes when his daughter comes by and he takes his meds and straightens out his mind, he’s alright. Silent, cautious, and not at all like the normal fella I talk with. It’s better for him, honestly, but when his daughter leaves he stops taking them.

He doesn’t hurt anyone, never has. He hasn’t even hurt himself. But he comes over to my stoop and he’ll stand near my railing on my little concrete steps and he’ll lean in with big eyes under his dirty beanie and quivering grey beard. “I saws ‘em. Saw ‘em again. They came by a-knockin’, I swear.”

I nod along. Some folks think he means the FBI or something, like he shouted about last week in a fight on the lawn with his daughter, but nah. Old Man Larry is basically the neighborhood snoop. He watches people come in and out and in and out.

Doesn’t have much else to do. I feel for him. I do. My first year of living in this small brick home with a run-down roof, I came home and he dragged me off the porch. Nearly punched him out but he started whispering sharply about men in suits bursting into my house, how they were obviously bad news, he knew I didn’t bring in folks who kick things and break things. At the time, yeah, I thought he really lost it, seeing things like that.

But I called the cops (if there was no one, then they could at least get his daughter to check on him) as he insisted.

My front door that I thought was shut was cracked, and two men were inside. It appeared to be a break in to steal, but no one really knew what they wanted. Off to jail they went, and to Home Depot I went to install a deadbolt and several spiffy locks (the landlord can have as many fits as he sure wants, this ain’t happening again.).

So yeah when Old Man Larry says someone came a-knockin’, I’m gonna fucking believe him.

“That’s the pits, Larry. Did they say what they wanted?”

Larry shook his head quickly, filthy fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on my railing to a tune only he could hear. “Mmm. No no no. Was them vans again. You know?”

“Yeah, I saw one yesterday...Got a clue what they’re on about?”

Larry shook his head again, his eyes darting up and down the road. The only reason I was really out here, I was sketching on my tablet with my left hand, which was...hard. Plus, sunshine, yo. Larry’s eyes skitter back down at me nervously. “No no, not a thought to be had. Y-You know, they stir me up, real bad real bad.”

I nod. “I know, Larry. You do real good when no one’s bugging you.” He does. No weird vans come by and no one come knocking his door to play a trick on him, he’s pretty easy going. Smiles and waters his plants, sits out in the little yard he’s got under his tree.

Larry bobs his head again with a rough sigh. “I’ll watch out, keep an eye out, no one’ll come here, mm-hmm.”

“Mm.” I say in response, then look up at him finally, tilting my head. “How’s your granddaughter?”

It works. He launches into a happy spiel of her first ballet recital. His daughter wouldn’t let him go until he cleaned up, but Larry ain’t as dirty as folks think. He’s got mud and dirt and things under his nails because he works in his plants all the time. He’s real good at it, kinda jealous, but in that way you’re proud of someone and only want to compliment them.

Actually, now that I think about it...I close out my tablet, stuffing it under my arm as I stand up, grinning at Larry. “Got a present for ya.”

Larry gives the ficus a brand new home, tenderly replanting it in his yard, digging the hole with his bare hands before slipping it in, talking to it so softly. I can tell he is, the way he touches the leaves with reverence, the way his head bobs every few minutes.

Larry’s the only guy I can trust with plants besides my Dad. Sometime I’ll buy him another one...maybe a banana tree...he likes those I think. I head back inside, stiffly, my side aching still with each step as I swing my dead weight of an arm against my hip. Healing sucks and takes so...freaking...long.

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It’s the third day. Larry had quickly whispered to me as I walked out of my house-I still have yet to replace my lovely Sonya-that he had seen more of the vans. I’ve seen ‘em too. They’re traipsing up and down our road, real slow like. Aggravating me, how can anyone get to doin’ what they gotta do with these stalkers about?! I tell Larry to stay in his house when they go by, so they’ll leave him alone, and he agrees, fiddling roughly with the scarf around his neck.

It’s not Winter, but Larry’s always cold.

I have to walk for a long time until I get back to the bridge. My thighs twitch and burn from the steady pace I kept up. It’s too hot for jeans but I still wore them out, with my favorite white tank top. I take the steps down onto the small patch of land away from the bridge, sit down on the land, and cross my legs, waiting. It’s dark, as it had been when we first met. So I figured...that’s when she’d be out, you know? Now...to wait...

Waiting.

Waiting.

There’s a small ripple in the water, and it takes me a moment before I realize her head is rising up above the water, slimy hands gripping the edge of the land as she leaned over, her eyes wide and round now. “You came back.”

“Um. You...did too.” I mumble, rubbing at my cheek for a moment. “So.”

She tilts her head. When she blinks, I can see the way it slides over her eyes, like a snake. ...it’s a little cool. “You have a thing.”

“Huh?”

She motions at my arm, and I lift it a little, laughing. “Oh yeah! It’s a cast. My arm got all twisted up. I don’t remember if they said it was broke or not, but either way, I gotta wear this thing for a while.”

“Fascinating,” she mumbles, her tail swishing under the water behind her, almost like a puppy in excitement.

I shift, and slide myself closer to her, so we’re not so far apart. “...I can’t just call ya mermaid or...that girl. I need a name to call you.”

She blinks again. “Okay. Humans love to name things.”

I fluster a bit, and can feel my ears heat up and I know my face is so much darker now as I clear my throat. “Y-Yeah yeah I guess. ...Dahlia.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a cool flower that blooms in a poof,” I ‘poofed’ my fingers with a grin, wiggling them. “It’s really neat...and I just like the name. What d’ya think?”

She tilts her head slowly, one sharp fingernail...claw...thing scratching a gouge into the earth as she seemed to think. “Yes. I approve. Dahlia.”

I grin. “Dahlia. Neat.” I pause for a moment, the water splashing against the end of the land slowly with the breeze. “Where’s your family?”

Dahlia smiles, her sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “They live deep. Pod. A kingdom of us. We migrate here during the warm months.”

Oh that’s cool. Like birds, I think, as I nod. Her hand darts out, startling me, but she gently takes my hand in hers, then guides it close, cupping both hands over it with large eyes. “So different...”

My fingers twitch in her grip. “Um...y-yeah uh, we’re...you’re teal and I’m, you know, black.”

She shakes her head, the seaweed slapping her shoulders as she slowly slips her hand into mine. Oh. Oh.

“Scales. You are soft. Soft.” Her nails dig in lightly, and while the hand is still slimy, it’s no longer disgustingly so. I’ve grown used to it pretty quickly, and it just feels like slime you buy at the store and smush your fingers in. I laugh a bit nervously.

“Yeah...don’t got scales. You do. Your hand’s rough,” I mumble, her thumb pressing against mine in wonder. It’s like small scales, like those things on the pillows that you can rub on and the sequins change color. They’re not as pronounced as the ones that lead up her arms, that lead down her body, that make up her tail. They’re...small. “I mean, obviously you haven’t seen a lot of humans, I guess?”

She blinks in that unsettling way. “Yes.”

I frown. “Huh?”

“They fall. From the bridge.” She motions with the hand not pressing against my own towards the towering bridge. “Down they go. I see them. Or they reach in, from large things, splashing at fish.”

“...boats. You mean boats.”

Dahlia grins widely. “Yessss. They throw things in, to feed fish. Delicious things.” Her tongue slides out and licks her lip, a kind of snake looking thing...it, too, is teal colored. “Brave ones in funny slick suits and large things on backs.”

“Scuba divers? Why would-” Oh. Police ones. Right. That would make more sense than a random citizen deciding to scrounge around in the most likely trash strewn bottom of the length of ocean here. “Hm. And you don’t...approach ‘em?”

She shakes her head slowly. “We tried. Once. A very long time ago. They took long things with pointed ends, and hit us with them. No more, Sire says, no more. Never again.”

I grimace. Well, all myths had to start somewhere, I guess...she’s still messing with my hand, pressing her thick claw against the edge of my short nail curiously, tapping at it. “...are ya gonna get in trouble for uh...you know, bein’ here?”

“No.” But she doesn’t elaborate, and honestly, I don’t ask her to. She flexes my fingers, cupping her hand over mine, the small scales tickling the inside of my wrist. It’s nice, sitting here, doing...nothing. I still brim with questions, but I’m not even sure what they are. I can feel them though, bubbling like a cauldron, but it ain’t producing nothing. After a while, she slowly releases my hand, her hands back onto the earth once more. “I must go.”

I flush a bit, nodding, my hand curled up in my lap. My phone was destroyed on my adventure in the water and her saving me, but thankfully I had freaking insurance on it. But I don’t have it on me. I know time has passed, though. The usual night time boats that circle their spotlights on the waters have already made their route, turning in. It’s really late. “Yeah...me too. Can uh, you wanna meet up, again?”

Dahlia grins as she sinks into the inky water. “Four days,” she murmurs before the water swallows her up like a goliath.

Four days. My casted hand twinges as the last of the pain killers finally sinks away, and my side tingles, and my pants are a bit dirty and my other hand feels like I’ve got dried Elmer’s glue on it.

I’ve never been more excited!

I head home, nearly tripping on a gap in the sidewalk. The graffiti of the flower now has a wicked looking grin on it. The wind picks up, rustling the grass and the trees...

I’m not stupid. I see the van. I see it down at the corner of Macy’s Grocery Store, a block away from me. It starts up. It wants to intimidate me. If I wasn’t already injured, I’d stand my ground, but instead I hobble along quickly into the cafe across the street. It’s a cross between an internet cafe and bookshop. The bookshop part isn’t very big, maybe three bookshelves full, but there are plenty of computers and coffee to go around.

And plenty of witnesses.

I stand in the doorway inside as the van rolls slowly down the street. I can hear someone greet me, and I mumble a ‘hello’ back. A boy is cursing up a storm as someone defeats him in a video game, and three girls are watching a movie together. It looked like an animated film when I had came in, but it not might be. The van rolls on. The windows are tinted. The triskelion glows from the side, embedding itself into my mind’s eye.

I don’t know if I won the staring match. The van rolls away. I’m left feeling breathless and angry.

Who are they? Some new gang in town? A cult? Whatever they are, I’m staying as far away as possible.

Besides, I have a date in four days! Can’t let this get me down.