WATER MAN
A Story of Survival
I heard a gasp and wondered if the jeweler was on the verge of a heart attack. Who could blame him? If a three-stone diamond ring vanished from my shop, I’d be close to cardiac arrest too.
I’d entered the jewelery shop thirty minutes ago. Dressed in a suit and tie, with my hair brushed and face washed, I approached the jeweler and said, “I’m here to buy a diamond engagement ring.”
He responded with the expected niceties, then unlocking a cabinet, he removed several jewelery ring racks and placed them on the glass counter. I played the game, inspecting this ring and that ring. “These rings are stunning” I said. “Oh, I think Amy would love this one here,” and I pointed to a white gold ring, “only the diamond is a little small.”
“You want something bigger?” The jeweler enquired.
I smiled. “Oh yes, I like to spoil her. She is my forever, after all.”
The jeweler removed another rack from the cabinet, “how about these?”
I bent forward for further examination. The rings on the rack were priced between six and ten thousand. I rubbed my chin. “Yes,” I said, “I believe these are perfect.’ I removed the most expensive and held it up between my thumb and index finger. ‘This one,’ I uttered. “This is so Amy. She’d love it.”
Then I widened my eyes. “My goodness,” I said to the jeweler.” “Don’t move. A spider the size of a tennis ball is on your arm. Look, creeping up towards your shoulder.” And I flicked my free hand in the air. “Brush it off, Brush it off.”
The jeweler shifted his focus from me to his arm, and in his moment of distraction, I placed the ring in my pocket and melted faster than the speed of light into a watery puddle on the carpeted floor.
I heard the jeweler gasp. I imagined him rubbing the newly formed perspiration droplets on his forehead, his eyes wide, his body physically shaking. His thoughts jumbled. How did? Where did? The man. He just vanished. How the hell? Right before my eyes. The diamond ring. He swiped the ring. I imagined him reaching out a shaky hand, his fingers searching for the security button and pressing it. Help, I’ve been robbed.
Unbeknownst to him, I was still here, only in a different form. Hey, silly man, look over the counter, and you’ll see me, a long line of water on the floor, sliding like a snake, sneaky like a snake. Can you see me? I’m hugging the skirting boards, heading for the exit. Bubbles of pleasure popped all over me as I slithered out the door.
The hereditary melting genetic ran through my Dad’s side of the family. Only males could inherit the gene, but not all. My uncle and his three sons had not been affected. I was seven the first time I melted. It happened at the dinner table. There I was chewing a carrot when, whoosh, I dissolved into a small watery puddle on the chair. Although there was a fifty percent chance of this happening to me, Dad’s head jerked back, and Mum burst into tears. As for me, I sloshed around in the middle of the wooden seat, bubbling all over; terrified I might drip over the edge. Once I became human again, my parents informed me about the family defect.
A melting child, they said, was an abnormality, and if the authorities ever found out, I’d be locked away and experimented on. To prevent this happening, my parents withdrew me from the school system and placed me under house arrest. The education I received at home was limited, and even worse, I had no friends my own age to play with. It took me twenty years before I learned how to control the melting, and by that stage, I was a social recluse with no career prospects. Defeated, I turned to a life of crime.
My first burglary was nerve-racking, but with practice, I squashed the stomach butterflies and soon began enjoying my devious exploits. Sly with a pinch of pizzazz, I swiped those crystal-encrusted bracelets, those silver ruby necklaces. Whatever I wanted, I took. When I melted, everything on me melted. My clothes, my wristwatch, and if I happened to have a three-stone diamond ring in my pocket, well, that melted too. Once I made my steal and had transformed into a puddle of water, the next step was to seek safety. All I had to do was slide to a nearby water source, like a bathroom sink or shower, and slosh down the drain. From there, I’d flow to the nearest sewage facility where machines treated me. Later, after being cleansed, I was released to a creek, river, or sometimes the ocean. The next part was easy. All I had to do was drift along with the current to a different country. After arriving at my destination, I’d wait until night-time, squirm out of the water, and then turn back into me again. My last task was to locate my middleman and swap my stolen jewels for cash.
As I coasted along the Mall’s walkway towards the bathroom, I took in my surroundings. Although I existed as water, my sensors were still intact. All around me feet scurried about in a frenzied fashion. Australian shoppers eager to finish their Christmas shopping and get to the beach for a last dip in the surf before the festivities began. Good, busy people were less likely to notice a strange pool of water skimming along underfoot.
I slipped past a shoe shop, a dress shop, and a bank and rounded a corner. The midday sun glared down, and a pinprick sensation started up on my back, a stab here, a jab there, then I heard a simmer and wondered if I was beginning to boil. No way. I pulled over to the left and pressed up against the wall. Don’t move, I told myself, stay right here. Nice and calm, you’ll be okay, all is good. A minute passed, then two. Thoughts of dropping down the bathroom sink came to mind, and knowing I couldn’t stay where I was much longer, I made the only choice I could. At a snail’s pace, I oozed forward over the cracked pavement. The bathroom, I needed to find the bathroom, and by the sound of that simmer, time was not on my side.
Yesterday I’d practiced the route on foot, and it appeared easy enough, but now it seemed I had underestimated the distance. The walkway leading into the car park came into view, and I stopped and reared back. This can’t be right. A water bubble formed on my skin and then exploded. Had I made a wrong turn? Where was the bathroom? I must have trickled past it without noticing. Maybe, had I? Yes, I must have. Stupid, stupid, I turned around and began to backtrack. The sun’s rays bore down hotter than ever, steam rose from my back, and the heat from the pavement caused a sizzle as I wormed across it. Good God, oven-like temperatures from above and below, I felt as if I was toasting in a sandwich maker.
Centimeter by centimeter, I dribbled along the passageway, zigzagging, unable to see through the black haze that slowly shrunk my vision. Perhaps I should turn back into a human again. If I did, the police would apprehend me, and I’d do jail time, but at least I would live.
Yes, I must become human again. I puffed myself as wide as I could, but nothing happened. Was that how I changed from water to a living person? Was it? I, I, I, it was just so hot. A cramp seized my watery body, and I began to pound and pulsate. The sun was drying me out. I was probably no bigger than a dinner fork. Where was the bathroom? I had to find a sink. Find water. The bathroom, where was it? I turned around and slid half an inch. This way, it must be this way, or was I headed in the wrong direction? I turned again, the bathroom, where was it?
The sun glared down stronger, sharper. So hot, so hot, so tired, the sun, help, oh help. Which way? Oh God, the sun. Help, someone?
Evaporated
Ashley Noel 2023
