Last Nets
Strange and magical encounters at sea threaten to separate Joe and Petra forever. Will love’s mysterious currents push this loving couple apart or bring them together?
“So I was thinking we could go out to the Rockies, maybe. You could finally meet my folks.” Joe squeezed her hand, marveling at what a flower she was, even in her oyster-slimed work apron.
Petra dropped her eyes and wilted a bit. “Um. No.”
“You never want to go on a trip.”
“So why do you keep asking?” She struggled to grin and look up at her boyfriend. “C-Can’t they just come out to Seattle?”
He found her stammer when shy or frustrated irresistibly endearing. It amazed him that a girl so gorgeous could be so devoid of confidence. “I was just hoping we could spend a good couple of days together.”
“I see you every single day.”
Joe sighed. Her brilliant smile was nearly enough to end the discussion, but this time he pressed on. “Yes, but we could be together for a couple of days in a row. You know, for the whole weekend, where we go to sleep together and wake up together in the mornings.”
“The things we do keep us from sleeping,” she said with a smirk and raised eyebrows.
Joe blushed, unable to help it. They certainly had done everything on the bed — except sleep. “You know I want to take us to the next step, Petra. This fisherman thing has been great for me. You could cut back your hours.”
“Hey now,” someone called from the kitchen. It was Sam, Petra’s manager at the restaurant, bantering with the staff as they shut off lights and put away chairs. “I heard that, Joe. Don’t be stealin’ our best shucker! Your girlfriend keeps us all alive.”
“Well, okay,” Joe called. “At least not until she shows me her oyster trick.”
Petra shook her head as Sam and the guys at the bar whooped. Months ago a couple of laughing drunks made up a story, blabbering that Petra could shuck a pair of oysters simultaneously in each bare hand without a knife. A twitch of her fingers and the oysters were served, they’d roared as they left a big tip and stumbled off.
“Silly.” She laughed, rising to hang her apron.
Joe remained in the booth and gazed. He admired her kind face and large, fathomless eyes. He watched her undo her hair and shake free her luscious brown curls. Her petite curves dazzled as she stretched. Constantly puzzled at the mesmerizing effect she had on him, she put her hands on her hips. “Joe?”
“Uh, yeah…” He blinked and followed her out into Seattle’s gritty winter fragrance. He pocketed his hands and puffed steam as he shivered, “Gosh, don’t you ever get cold in those summer dresses?”
She just laughed. The city was a chandelier in red, green, and gold. Serrated ribbons of light shimmered on wet asphalt. She leapt over a puddle with dancing grace but tangled her landing and stumbled.
“Petra,” Joe said with a laugh. “Be careful or you’ll end up face down like last time, remember?”
“No I won’t.” She giggled and waved away his warning. “Can’t you tell I’ve been practicing?”
“Really, Petra. It would be great if we could stay together. Try it for a few weeks.”
She frowned. “B-but it’s wonderful the way it is. Why aren’t you happy?”
“Of course I’m happy. First a couple of hours at a time, then days, then months, and then a lifetime. It’s the next steps couples like us do.”
Her frown deepened. “You always say that. Why do we have to do next steps if we love each other just the same?”
“To show our commitment, Petra. Our love.”
“But we are committed, we do love!” she whined, fists clenched tight. “You know how I get when you do this to me. Don’t make me cry again.”
“I know, but now you could just work part time. Really, or quit.” He smiled. “Especially with my new job.”
She took a breath and tilted her head. “N-new job?”
“The Arctic Stallion decided to take me on!”
Her face fell the rest of the way. Her eyes pled before she turned away. “Nooo, not this, too. C-can’t you go on some other boat?”
“Hey, what’s the matter? It’ll be three times the money in half the time. They’re the best boat in the fleet.”
“Every girl in town knows Arctic Stallion’s famous crew. The pretty ones especially do.” Her voice quavered, “They’ll take you from me.”
“What? Petra, there’s no girl more perfect for me than you. I-”
“How could you possibly know that? You haven’t met all of them yet.” Her face wrinkled. “But you will if you go on the Stallion.”
He took her hands and absorbed the prolonged effort it took her to look up at him. He spoke to her flooding eyes, “Petra, we’re in love. Those fisherman groupie girls won’t be able to change that. Come on, you know I’ll prove it.”
He squeezed her tender arms. Nothing. He squeezed again. She sniffed and barely nodded.
Her skin was as chilly as the ocean. “You’re sure you’re not cold?”
Tears dropped as she nodded again.
Four days later there was desperation in her kiss beside the Arctic Stallion. Her lovely figure was distorted by silent sobs as she hurried away in a little dress. Joe brooded for a spell before he gulped and ascended the gangway.
He warmed a bit as the whole crew offered firm handshakes and genuine encouragement — the first time he’d ever received such a welcome. Were these guys for real? Everyone had brilliant smiles and toned biceps. All thirty of them looked like underwear models.
Joe noted that the floats, rollers, nets, and cables that packed the scrubbed decks were in excellent condition. Bulkheads and railings were rust-free. Well-maintained machinery seemed eager for action.
As the engines smoothly pushed the Stallion to sea, Joe learned that every new crewman was initiated by touching up the ship’s figurehead on his first day. With an air of celebration they sat him on a small net seat and lowered him into the salty sprays beneath the bowsprit, just above the advancing seas. Instead of the wide marine paintbrushes he expected, they handed him a paint palette and several artist’s brushes. The Arctic Stallion was the only trawler he’d seen with a figurehead, this one a streamlined deco sculpture of a white horse’s bust surging over the waves. Joe cleaned away grime and carefully added some dabs and strokes he thought looked okay.
Through the night the ship heaved through 15-foot rollers toward the fishing grounds. A half-inch thickness of steel separated Joe’s bunk from the Gulf of Alaska, and familiar sounds of churning seas came through as he rocked to sleep.
He dreamt of Petra trying to smile.
Cheesy scrambled eggs, waffles, and coffee for breakfast — hearty fisherman fare Joe always enjoyed. The crew made cheerful, eager conversation, and Joe became anxious to make a good impression. At the buzz of the bell they rose and efficiently donned rubber slicks and gloves. Despite rushing to get his boots and hard hat on, Joe was last through the hatch.
Snow streamed sideways as washes of saltwater swooshed the deck. Joe squinted in the spume as he fought to keep pace with the Stallion’s men — they were for real. They moved like acrobats, the fastest crew he’d ever seen. He leapt and grabbed with them as they dragged gear and arranged floatline, footrope, and otter doors for black cod. Finally the winch whirred as it paid cable and dropped the massive trawl into the surging depths. Joe gripped the rail as the boat pitched on mountains of water, and the crew patted him on the back for dropping a good first net. He inhaled frigid sea mist and shouted laughter into the wind. He hardly caught his breath in the fifteen minutes it took for the bell to ring again. Full net already?
The deck vibrated with the winch’s strained chugging. The thick cables strummed with tension, spraying saltwater as the spools reeled them in. Joe bounded forward and helped the crew rig the net for processing, stowing the doors and gear as they rose from the ocean. The bulging codend loomed onto the ramp, and the men slid the bus-sized purse of fish perfectly over the live tank trap doors on the deck.
Joe hurried with the others as they put away hard hats and descended into the fish factory belowdecks. Talking happily, they detached in teams to the freezer, bagger, packing table, and saws. Joe assumed his spot on the sorting line, forward of the hydraulic panel that separated the factory from the live tank, the stainless steel room that received the contents of every net. He heard the trap doors open and many tons of fish and water pour in. The mass dammed against the panel all the way to the ceiling. A pull on a lever and the panel rose partway, allowing a flow of cod onto the conveyor belt. The line began sorting, big in the right bin, mediums in the middle, and smalls to the left. Their hands moved in a blur and Joe concentrated on matching their speed.
After an hour the live tank was down to a quarter, and Joe ignored the ache in his arms. Half the crew went above to drop the next net while Joe’s team ground away in the factory. The teams would alternate for the rest of the trip. After twelve hours the teams divided further into shifts. When Joe’s shift finally ended, he hopped onto his bunk and was asleep before his head touched the pillow.
Petra’s wet eyes pled with him. From somewhere in his dreamscape came murmurs of laughing women. He tried to ignore them, reaching tenderly for her, but the demanding bell signaled another net and another shift.
Nets and bells and the lunge of the ship filled the week. The Stallion’s crew seemed to accelerate, pressing Joe to his limits. After rising with the increasingly tormenting bell and hours of battle in the factory, he would clamber on deck and be surprised to see that it was brilliant day — or blackest night, with icy spray roiling in the sodium lights. Petra occupied his fleeting slumbers, heartbreak on her tear-wetted face. Occasionally Joe would stir, thinking he’d heard a songlike voice through the bulkhead, but he was always too exhausted to investigate.
Finally the Arctic Stallion sat low in the water, packed with frozen bounty ready for delivery to port. Joe was eager to see Petra waiting as always at the dock, to touch his lips to hers and show her that everything was all right. But under the countless reds and oranges of a turbulent arctic sunset the ship slowed and the bell rang yet again. Confused, Joe joined the others as they rigged for yet another haul that couldn’t possibly fit into the freezer hold. With wide smiles and hearty thumps on his shoulders, they said the Stallion always pulled a very special last net.
The trawl hardly dipped before the winch began pulling it back aboard. Joe’s confusion increased as the laughing men hurried him downstairs, their movements full of bounce and excitement. They huddled around the live tank, the first time Joe had seen them so babbling and silly.
Joe blinked. Why was he the only one wearing gloves and slicks? Some of the crew carefully held silken bits of fine cloth that looked remarkably like chemises, gowns, and dresses. Others wiped the factory clean and fiddled with previously stowed electronic equipment — speakers, lights, and a disco ball? Joe looked around but received only hilarity in reply. The sound of opening trap doors and the emptying net came through the live tank panel. In a moment the panel lifted wide and a flood of seawater gushed down the conveyor.
Joe gaped. Riding the wash were large fins, glimmering scales, and beautiful faces. Giggling girls’ voices bubbled from the current. As the water drained to the bilge, Joe stared as at least two dozen naked women squirmed on the belt. But they weren’t women, not exactly. Before his eyes, fins morphed into legs, scales to skin. Many leapt from the belt into the arms of crewmen, planting fervent kisses in reunion. They received all manner of warm drinks and finery, and laughed and sang as the music came on.
Two of them lingered near the belt as they struggled into tight dresses. They stumbled to the speechless Joe as he watched the unbelievable festivities begin. “Oh, here’s the new guy. Joe, right?”
“M-mermaids,” Joe managed.
“Wow, he’s a bright one.” They giggled and introduced themselves. The voluptuous brunette was Uli, and the slight, exotically dark-skinned one was Ani. They squeezed him by the arms and led him toward the deck stairs, leaning on him heavily as they tottered. Uli said, “Oops — don’t laugh. If you suddenly grew a strange fin, your swimming would be just as wobbly.”
They sat Joe on a step. Someone handed him a frosty beer, and hot buttered rums to the girls. Joe’s nose fizzed as he took a few swallows.
Uli said, “He’s as pretty as they said.”
“Sure is.” Ani nodded. She squeezed her svelte thighs and bottom into the space beside him. She was colder than Joe’s bottle. “We’ve finally got them trained. Only ones who meet our standards get a job on Arctic Stallion.”
Uli bent close, her undulating curves nearly escaping her wet dress. She pulled off his gloves and began unzipping his rubber jacket. Her cool, sweet breath was in his ear, “Let’s do a different kind of fishing tonight, Joe!”
Joe jumped to his feet. His mouth blurted the words, “Um, I have a girlfriend. Petra.”
“Oh?” Uli said with a bounce. The two beauties shared a glance and snickered. “Another thing to add to our Stallion standards: no girlfriends!”
“Here,” Joe said, showing them his photos of Petra smiling and posing in front of her restaurant.
“Ah, she’s pretty,” Ani said, exaggerating her frown and drooping her shoulders. “Just our luck.”
Joe took another gulp. The beer was warming his stomach. Uli and Ani were knock-outs, but not nearly as much as Petra. “So what’s it like to be, you know?”
“Mermaids?” they giggled. Joe grinned and shrugged.
“Well,” Uli said. She sipped her hot rum and continued with a smile, “We’re all girls. All girls! That’s why we love having the Stallion.”
“But how do you…?” Joe asked, indicating the four lovely legs before him.
“Oh, it’s so hard,” Ani said. “Switching to legs is like holding an anchor, or breathing air. I made it four hours once, but thought I would die! That time I couldn’t hold it any longer and my fin started to return, but it couldn’t because I was wearing jeans. I got stuck halfway, helpless like having a cramp.”
“I had to cut her out,” Uli said. “Or Ani would be fish-n-chips.”
“But tell us about Petra!” They squealed in delight.
“Well, she’s beautiful. And when we’re together her… endurance is amazing.” He couldn’t help but blush. Ani and Uli squealed again. “We’re so in love, but she just-”
“Just what?”
Joe sighed. He told them about her reluctance to move in together, and her tearful concern about his job on the Stallion.
Uli and Ani looked at each other and put on serious faces.
Uli said, “Well that’s totally unfair to you and us, Joe. You’re stuck between a frustrating relationship with that girl and us — you like us, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“That’s right,” said Ani. “This Petra needs to understand what a catch she has.”
“Fish or cut bait, Petra!”
Uli and Ani laughed until tears streamed.
“But really. We need to confront her. For you.”
“Hey, now wait,” Joe said. “Her self-confidence is in pretty bad shape.”
“That girl needs a wake-up call,” Ani said, getting up.
They held each other for balance as they wobbled back toward the conveyor. “She can’t be hogging you if she won’t commit.”
“No, girls,” Joe said, blocking their way. “Petra’s fragile. She’ll think she can’t compete. She’ll give up and run away.”
“If that’s what she needs to do…” they slipped past him and mounted the belt.
“No, please,” he begged. “Don’t do this to her, to me.”
“We know that restaurant. When we get there she better have a good explanation for treating you this way.”
“No!” Joe tried to hold them, but they were suddenly fishy and slippery and dodged deep into the live tank. Joe called after them, “Leave her alone!”
After a giggle and a splash they were gone.
He slumped on the belt and sensed a growing swell of destruction. Music and conversation filled the factory. The disco ball turned merrily, and men and mermaids danced in the sparkling lights. The Stallion’s figurehead watched the sun vanish into calm seas.
A couple of days later at the dock, Joe threw all of his energy into rushing the 12-hour offload and cleanup. After the crane pulled the last cargo net, he went to the rail and saw a small crowd of hopeful women near the gangway. Though many were pretty, none was Petra. Joe hollered to his friends, “Gotta go!”
He squirmed through the girls’ batting lashes and eager greetings and trailed sweat as he dashed from the docks into the city.
Sam was busy at the Oyster bar, but sprung up when he heard the door. “Joe! Where’s that girlfriend of yours? Petra’s been gone ever since those two foxes came in to talk to her.”
Joe bolted back outside, and Sam shouted after him, “Tell her she’s fired. But she gets a raise if she’ll please just come back!”
Joe called and called as he ran. He burst into his place and saw Petra’s phone on the counter, full of his messages. Beside it was a note, crisped with salty wrinkles.
“I try so hard to deserve you, Joe. I hope you’ll remember me when you’re with your new friends from the Stallion. I’ll always remember you. Love, Petra.” The note ended in a splash of tear-diluted ink.
Joe groaned and put his face in his hands. Had those two sirens ruined his whole world? He jumped when his phone rang.
“Petra?” he gasped.
But it wasn’t Petra. It was a crewmate from the Arctic Stallion. The ship was fueled and leaving in an hour. Was Joe ready to head back out?
He looked around. Her absence was a shadow pressing down everywhere. He needed to return to Ani and Uli, to make them bring Petra back. “Yes,” he said, he’d be at the dock in half an hour.
As the ship put to sea Joe paced and willed the white figurehead faster over the waves. When they reached the first-net coordinates, he worked with a storm’s fury. Even the Stallion’s gymnastic crew was impressed. He kept on the offensive for every bell and net, taking extra shifts and fighting the sleet to help stuff the hold. The crew kept quiet and gave him room to rampage for days. When finally the freezer could hold no more, he helped drop the last net and was first at the live tank. His jaw clenched as he waited for the trap doors to open.
Again there was the miracle of finned girls and giggles, but Joe hardly noticed as he hunted in the crowd for Uli and Ani. Finally they emerged. Joe advanced.
“You two have destroyed everything, and you need to fix it.”
They gave polite smiles and moved aside.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t you ignore me! You better-”
He was distracted by a slosh on the belt. A fin of beautiful sequins sparkled green and blue. His breath caught — how could a fish’s tail be so perfectly sensuous? The angelic creature rolled over and looked at him. He saw her eyes and the world turned inside out.
“Petra!” he exhaled.
She laughed and sobbed, cried and smiled. She held up her arms and Joe rushed to pick her up. He spun her around, lost in the wonderful softness of her tail as she concentrated and switched it to the legs he knew so well. When he stopped he saw Ani’s and Uli’s tearful smiles. All of the others were there, too, cheering in celebration.
He put her down and she didn’t stumble at all.
“I was always so afraid you’d find out. But suddenly these two strange girls came to the restaurant and started lecturing me. After a few minutes I recognized the way they moved, the way they talked, and I knew I had no choice,” Petra cried. “The look on their faces when I brought them out and showed them!”
Ani and Uli sprayed saltwater as they laughed. Joe’s smile rendered him wordless.
“Joe, do I really walk like that, too?”
Joe just laughed. His eyes gushed with hers. The music came on and the disco ball started its dance. Friends shouted congratulations and the party spread to the rest of the ship. Joe hesitated.
“Petra. What do we do next?”
Her smile ignited.
“I think I’ll show you my oyster trick. Then I’ll take you to your bunk. It’s the next steps couples like us do.”
Cover 3D scene and render by F.P. Wilson
Graphic Design by N. Herd
Trawler 3D asset by KG182 on 3DWarehouse; link:
https://3dwarehouse.sketchup.com/model/d7fe3d95cde66115874f0e42f84eb4f5/Trawler-Fishing-Vessel
