We’re pleased to present an excerpt from Josh Denslow’s new short story collection Magic Can’t Save Us, available now from University of New Orleans Press. Acclaimed author Sequoia Nagamatsu had this to say about the book: “With the fabulist hand of Aimee Bender and Karen Russell and the humor and irreverence of Steve Almond, Denslow masterfully juggles crumbling relationships and beings of myth in a whirlwind of awkward silences, deceit, and failure to love.” Read on for a glimpse of what’s inside this new collection.
***
Waves
It’s true. I bought a ring. And it was exactly to Sharon’s specifications.
A few hours before our dinner reservation where I was going to proffer the ring and Sharon was going to pretend she had never seen it before in front of a room full of strangers, I drove south for an hour until the highway was only a few hundred feet from the ocean. We’d been so caught up planning this dinner, including prewriting the captions for our inevitable Instagram posts and practicing the pause after I’d gotten on one knee so people at the other tables might think Sharon was going to say no, that we never talked about anything important. Like for starters: What was going to happen next?
I parked on the shoulder of the highway and picked my way over rocks until the roar of the ocean drowned out any idea of my own significance. I got as close as I could to the violence of the water and stared into the void, clutching the ring in my right hand. Then, and only then, did I scream into the waves as if my shredded vocal chords could stop the future.
When I was done, I sat on a rock and thought about what I’d order for dinner.
That’s when I heard a woman’s voice buried in the silence between waves. “Screaming Guy! Are you still over there?”
“Yeah,” I said, not necessarily pleased with my new moniker. In life, away from this rocky beach, I was praised for my level-headedness. My ability to stay calm in any situation. Sharon knew she could count on me to facilitate any task she set forth. Always to her exact specifications. Like with the engagement ring. And this dinner tonight.
“I’m flipping stuck,” the woman’s voice said with some chagrin.
“What do you mean stuck?” I said.
A wave crashed and we both waited.
“It’s all your fault,” she called. A large rock formation was turbulently piled between us, as if flung there by the son of a sea god with too much time on his hands. There was no way to go around it without splashing into the ocean or climbing back up to the highway and then working my way down the other side. This woman was stuck and needed my help, of course, but it was difficult not to decry my rotten luck. I came to this desolate strip to be alone, and it was bordering on assault to discover another person here.
“My fault?” I said.
“I heard you screaming and thought you needed help. Now I’m stuck trying to reach you. Ironic, right?”
“I don’t know about ironic,” I said.
“What?”
“I said it’s not that ironic.”
“Just climb over here and help me, Screaming Guy.”
I got to my feet as another wave detonated on the shore, and I stepped toward the pile of rocks. If Sharon were here, she’d have a plan for this. She’d have very strong opinions on where I would start my climb and which rocks to use for support. There were many times when having someone else do the steering for me suited me just fine. But there were a few things, especially lately, where I’d been scared to assert my influence. As if by agreeing to be steered, I’d also agreed to be silent.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m still here,” I said as I pulled myself onto the rocks. After trying a few options, I discovered a good foothold and pulled myself along a crevasse which I’m sure Sharon would have thought too dangerous. And then I was at the top looking down on a shallow pool. This side of the formation had a nice gentle slope, and I carefully picked my way down without thinking too much about the best places to step.
The woman’s golden hair came into view first. Then her bare shoulders. She twisted to face me, and I was unnerved by how much she resembled my girlfriend before Sharon. The one who still had my dog, and if I was honest, a starring role in some of my fantasies. She sat in the middle of the shallow pool and was busy tugging on a rock in a vain attempt to lift herself out.
“There you are,” she said, a little breathless.
“Here I am,” I said.
“I thought you’d look different,” she said.
“How so?”
“I don’t know. More screamy or something.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Well, are you going to help me?”
I splashed into the pool and hooked my arms around her waist. She leaned her head onto my shoulder and looked directly into my eyes. It was uncanny how I felt I knew this woman. Like she’d been part of my life at some point.
“Are you planning to lift me out or are we posing for our prom photo?”
I lifted her from the pool and that’s when I noticed her breasts were exposed. I almost dropped her.
“Pardon me,” I said, and quickly averted my eyes.
“Grow up. They’re just boobs.”
“I know what they are,” I said. But now I was more focused on the fact that she was definitely stuck. Something was holding her in the water. I gave her a good yank and she yelped in pain.
“Be careful.”
“I can’t see what’s going on under the water. What are you stuck on?” My back ached under the strain of holding her.
“If I knew I’d do something about it.”
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” I said. “Then I’ll count to three.”
She spun as best as she could in my arms, and I suddenly found my nose buried in her hair. She smelled like salt and something citrus. Actually, she smelled exactly like the drink I got at the Applebee’s bar whenever I told Sharon I was working late.
I pulled as hard as I could and there was a horrific ripping sound. The woman let go of my neck and landed with a thud on the sand outside the shallow pool. After another wave crashed I realized she was screaming now.
“I thought you were going to count to three!”
“I’m so sorry. I forgot.”
“I’m bleeding,” she said. “A lot.”
I looked down and discovered she had a tail. I was so shocked that my fingers went numb. The tail shimmered an iridescent green in the mist. A deep gash sliced through the scales on the left side from which quite a lot of blood poured. I’m not sure which discovery made me weaker, but I fell to the ground next to her. Waves crashed on the shore and sprayed across the rocks.
“Now what?” she said, sprawled and gasping on the sand. Then she passed out.
I half-carried and half-dragged her along the slippery rocks, her body completely limp the entire way. I tried my best to ignore the tail. And the blood.
She was a mermaid, of course. Which fifteen minutes ago was the strangest thing I’d ever encountered in my life. But now I was lugging a mermaid to my car, sweating and aching, as the sun reappeared from behind the clouds to watch the spectacle and the waves continued to guffaw. If Sharon were here, she’d have no doubt that my gym membership had gone unused for months. I was panting hoarsely and had to stop every few feet to rest. Sometimes the mermaid’s head slumped forward and sometimes it lolled back, her face still giving me that sense of déjà vu.
She was real, though. That was certain. But there was no more magic. She was just a heavier than expected obstacle that I needed to take care of before my fast-approaching engagement dinner.
I took a deep breath and pulled the mermaid onto a flat rock and finally, there was my car. The sun returned behind the clouds, perhaps having seen enough of this. The waves had settled too, no longer poking fun at me.
I pulled the mermaid across the last few feet of gravel and lifted her into the backseat. I then covered her with Sharon’s favorite blue dress that I’d picked up from the dry cleaner on my way out of town. Blood soaked through the fabric in the shape of a puffer fish.
Sharon had been wearing that dress when I’d met her at my cousin’s wedding, and she’d wanted to wear it for our special dinner tonight. She always talked about how that dress had lured me in, but until I’d dropped it off at the dry cleaner yesterday I’d been unable to recall it. But I don’t really retain things like the clothes we were wearing and what songs the DJ was playing like Sharon did. I don’t even remember the exact moment I met Sharon. We were suddenly together in a group of my old friends at my cousin’s wedding, and she tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I’d bring her another drink. She gave me specific instructions of how the drink was to be prepared by the young bartender who was way out of his depth. And I did it. I patiently described each step and vigilantly watched to make sure the bartender did it correctly. When I returned with her drink, she pressed the glass to her lips and a smile formed on her stoic face. She drank deeply, her gray eyes never leaving mine, and I felt these little tugs in my chest. Something inside me was trying to reach her. That’s what I remember.
That pull from me to her.
“Perfect,” Sharon had said. “Perfect.” She took my hand and it felt as if she hadn’t let go since.
“I’ve never been in a metal chariot,” the mermaid said as I got into the driver seat. She looked pale, but alert.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” I said.
“Do you have some stashed somewhere?”
I started the car and pulled onto the highway. I hit the gas harder than usual and the mermaid lurched backward with a grunt. I didn’t have much time before my engagement dinner. I’d have to drop the mermaid off at the hospital and then somehow slip away to pick her up after I’d popped the question to Sharon. Not to mention that I desperately needed a shower and a new change of clothes. “No, I’ll bring you to the doctor.”
“Please,” she said. “You know I can’t go to a doctor. I’m a flipping mermaid. They’ll cut me up for science.”
I hadn’t thought about that. I was so used to her form now that it almost seemed mundane. “Yes, you’re right. You’re a mermaid.”
She touched the blood stain on the dress and winced.
“Is this your dress?” she said. “I’ve ruined it.”
“Not mine. But I think it’s supposed to mean a whole lot to me.”
“How so?”
I kept my eyes on the road. “Because it means something to my fiancée. Or rather, my girlfriend. But I think you should keep it. I need to make a new memory with Sharon. A shared memory.”
“I hate to be picky while bleeding all over your metal chariot, but this dress is not really my style. I prefer a glistening tail and free-floating perky boobs. You’ve done a remarkable job not staring at them.”
“Thank you,” I said because it was either a compliment or a trap and the less words spoken about it, the better.
The mermaid politely pulled the dress up to her chin and pressed again on the spot where blood still seeped from her tail.
I thought about how much Sharon loved that dress, and I suddenly felt inordinately sad. Like I’d had one job all these years, and I’d failed. She’d chosen me because I was supposed to tell her when her dresses were ugly. But also when she looked beautiful. And I certainly needed to tell her that I wasn’t ready. That I hadn’t been ready for any of it.
“I don’t know anything about tails,” I said, “but maybe we could rip the dress into pieces and use it to tie it off. It could stop the bleeding.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I parked on the shoulder of the highway and then leaned over the seat. I reached for the hem of the dress and yanked a strip from the end. The mermaid leaned against the door and pulled up the dress until her wound was exposed. It was deeper than I thought and throbbing slightly with her pulse. I pushed down a wave of nausea as I wrapped the strip around her coarse tail which was warm and taut and thrumming with energy. Then I tugged it tight.
“Oh, dolphin!” she exclaimed.
“Sorry. Too tight?”
She exhaled loudly with her eyes closed. “No, I think it’s good.”
“Now what?” I said. “I really want to help you before I go back to my life. I want you to be safe.”
She looked out the window. “Take me back to the ocean.”
“But what about all that blood? Won’t a shark get you?”
“I’d rather take my chances with a shark than your scientists.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Think you can swim?”
“I don’t know. You mind if I rest here for a few minutes?”
“Take your time,” I said. I was still leaning over the seat.
Another slow exhale. “You know. This all started because I was trying to get a better view of two humans kissing on the beach a little way up from you. I could see their entire legs and everything.” She smiled and then grimaced. “Sorry. I’m sure that sounded depraved. Hope I didn’t freak you out.
“Sharon and I came down this way a few years ago,” I said. “Not long after we met. We made out on a beach too. Somewhere around here. We even got in the water. It was a much nicer day than today.”
“Is she your girlfriend or your fiancée?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The mermaid looked me in the eyes and we both realized it at the same moment. We’d seen each other before. On that day I was with Sharon at the beach.
“I thought you looked familiar,” she said.
“You too,” I said. “You were watching us.”
“Yes. Your lady friend has red hair. And long, lithe legs. The kind that are mesmerizing to watch when she swims.”
I’d been putting sunblock on Sharon when I’d looked up and seen a head poking from the water. At the time, I thought it had been my ex-girlfriend. Like the past rising up to warn me. I hadn’t ended things well with her. In fact, I hadn’t ended them at all. I’d been pulled into Sharon’s orbit, and I’d let my ex-girlfriend disappear. I hadn’t even gone back for my dog. But a second later, the head was gone, and with it, my lingering doubts.
“I go up and down the beach watching,” the mermaid said. “I’ve seen so many swimmers over the years. I’m obsessed with legs. The way they alluringly move. Underwater and above water. But you. You were the only one to ever see me. Even for just a second.”
“When you were watching,” I said, “did you see anything there between Sharon and me? Did you see a spark? Did we seem content? Well-suited? In love?”
“I’m a pervert,” the mermaid said, “not some kind of relationship expert.”
“Okay forget I asked,” I said. I knew those were things only I could figure out on my own.
That day at the beach, Sharon had actually gone for a swim alone before we’d returned to the car. There was a moment when she’d dived under a wave and hadn’t immediately bobbed to the surface. I’d jumped to my feet, clutching at my clothes. I’d been ready to jump in after her. But then there she was, the sun glinting off her high cheeks and forehead. She’d waved to me. At the time it had felt comfortable. But now thinking back it felt ominous. A farewell rather than a hello.
“You okay, Screaming Guy?”
I wanted to say yes that I was fine. That I was preparing for a glorious future with Sharon. “I don’t want to get married,” I said.
“Me either,” she said. “Sounds dreadful.”
“I’m proposing to Sharon tonight.”
The mermaid looked up at me. “Don’t do it. That will solve your problem.”
“I have to.”
She shrugged. “Well, you make a convincing argument. Did you get her a ring?”
I looked frantically out the back windshield at the endless stretch of road behind us. There was no way I would find the exact spot where I’d been parked. And I knew without a doubt that Sharon’s ring was somewhere on those rocks.
“You look more like what I was expecting when I heard you earlier,” the mermaid said. “Much more screamy.”
“I lost the ring,” I said. “Out on the rocks. I was holding it when I went to rescue you.”
The mermaid lowered her eyes. “I appreciate you helping me. Even though you did hurt my tail. Let me make it up to you. I’ll lead us back to that exact spot.”
“You can do that?”
“I’m a flipping mermaid. Of course I can.”
I drove until I felt we were in the general vicinity of where we’d met. “This is pretty close,” she said. “I’m impressed.”
I implored her to put on the dress before I let her climb onto my back and it dislodged a memory from my cousin’s wedding. At the end of the night, after my cousin and his wife had disappeared from the dance floor, I’d stumbled on Sharon passed out at a table. Though I’d been a little unstable myself, I’d hoisted her into my arms and taken her back to my hotel room. I wasn’t sure who she’d come with, but I couldn’t leave her there alone. Without touching her dress, I’d tucked her into my bed and then fell face first onto the couch. The next morning, we’d gotten eggs and toast at the buffet.
“This is the beginning of something good,” she’d said and smiled.
I had tried to see what she was seeing. I’d been doing it since that morning.
The mermaid squeezed my shoulder. “Stop,” she said.
I lowered myself onto a rock and the mermaid slid from my back onto the sand.
“Did you find it?” I said.
She arranged herself into a relaxed posture, her tail coiling out from under Sharon’s dress, her shoulders pulled back. “I see it.”
I scanned the ground hoping to catch a glimpse of it too.
“I can get it for you,” she said.
But I knew what was more important. “I’ll take you to the ocean,” I said.
“You don’t want the ring?”
“Not like this,” I said.
She lifted the dress over her head and spread it across a rock. Then she scooped up a handful of sand and placed it on top. “This will mark the spot.”
I picked her up again and stumbled my way to the water.
Once the mermaid was back under the waves, I would drive to pick up Sharon. Instead of going to dinner, I would bring her back here to where her favorite dress would guide us. Here with the waves crashing around us, I would tell her everything that was on my mind.
And then together, we would look for the ring.