Chapter – 1

How could anyone say Marcus wasn’t ready for a real commitment? He put aside all his overripe fears and dove right into the deep end of this relationship. Things were just getting comfortable. Tom passed all Marcus’s tests, his endless vetting, like a worthy political candidate running for office. He had already hyphenated Tom and his names for God’s sake. “Martom,” perhaps not the best combination. What happened to the fairy tale romance? Who was rewriting his happy ever after? You must not know about me. I could have another you in a minute.

Marcus opened his bloodshot eyes and pulled his lips from the cold Greyhound Bus window only to find them stuck in dried saliva. Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” came from the aisle next to him. So don’t you ever for a second get to thinking you’re irreplaceable.

For a minute Marcus forgot where or what was happening and froze kissing the window in the light of his dim reflection. Why he boarded the late night bus buzzed and half lucid currently escaped him, like his own spit. The drag queen to the left, to the left was too quick to comment.

“Goods morning pretty boy. Who’s gonna be here in a minute? You’s on a Greyhound bust sweetheart. Ain’t anyone going anywhere in a minute.” He picked up right in sync with the next prophetic lyric. You can pack all your bags, we’re finished. Cause you made your bed, now lay in it…”

Just then the bus came to a screeching halt bolting Marcus into his complete upright position and for a short moment totally conscience of his surroundings.

“Hernando County. All out,” the nicotine throat bus driver announced over a crackling speaker system. Marcus glanced at his Fossil watch. 5:30am blinked in red L.E.D.

The front door opened with a hydraulic gasp igniting the overhead fluorescents that illuminated the cabin of Mars last seven hours. His friends called him Mars for short. Was it seven hours already? Where were his friends now?

Sitting to his left was the drag queen, a dead on impersonation of Beyonce’ Knowles if it weren’t for the missing front tooth that slurred his words.

Riding two rows behind him was a Latino mother and her four-year old son. The commuter maid turned her rosary cross over and over between her fingers, mumbling something distinctly Catholic while her son softly slept.   The rattling sound reminded Mars more of southern poisonous Copperhead snakes than a sacrament of the Church.

Three rows back, in the blinking brownout of the Greyhound’s rear seats was a black man wearing a pair of ‘Beats’ red headphones rocking back and forth to the muffled rhythm, his eyes closed tight as if he was sleeping.

Exiting the bus were three teenage sports fans wearing Florida Gator oversized jerseys with giant numbers and names that meant nothing to Marcus, today or yesterday.

It was just yesterday that he agreed to leave the Keys and his good friend Paul on a cross-country bus trip back to the love of his life in LA LA Land, Los Angeles, California. Why the bus? Thomas bought the ticket. End of story! “Cheap son-of-a-bitch,” he whispered to himself. Perhaps it was a test of his relationship’s renewed commitment, (or a death sentence). On a west bound Greyhound bus he couldn’t be more nervous or out of his element.

Their six-month togetherness had all the passion and forever-ness of a 25-year anniversary, though no one was quick with the silver serving trays or even Nambe gift sets. Mars cared too much about other people’s observations and not enough about what had been clearly right in front of his nose.

He shook his head and rustled his hair trying to make a better impression; to whom he didn’t quite yet understand. That’s when the note fell from his chest to his lap. A yellow Stick-It lay upside down in his crotch.

He reached down and picked it up, the sticky backing gluing itself to the palm of his right hand. Turning his hand upward Mars read back the scribed note that had apparently been waiting his awakening.

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone,” read in blue ink on a yellow square about 4×4. Marcus read it aloud again, this time hearing the ridiculousness in his own voice.

“Oh really?!,” he said out loud looking suspiciously at the remaining riders.

“Baby, you’s got issues. But this is my stop. Crystal doesn’t have time to figure out your sorry white ass story. I gotta a show to do.”   And just like that the drag queen was gone into the dawn.

If this was a test of leaping into the unknown, then Marcus had crossed over for sure. Why was he traveling 2,673.12 miles and seven days from coast to coast on a bus no less, to rekindle a flame that just a few weeks ago looked extinguished for good. Love shouldn’t be this pedestrian.

Marcus felt perhaps we all fall in and out of love but never really truly out. Leaving Thomas for Key West seemed temporary from the beginning. As if running away to the southern most point would put enough distance between them that the feelings would go away.

“I gotta get some air, I’ll be right back,” Mars exhaled as he fumbled his way to the front of the bus weaving back and forth like a hide tide buoy.

“This bus leaves in fifteen minutes. The next is 3:30 pm buddy. You sure you wanna be getting off?” The bus driver spoke like he had seen his share of Marcus’s, Mars’ and Marshall’s, but with some needed concerns.

“I’ll be right baaaahh.” Marcus hit the pavement running in the darkened shadows of the decaying bus terminal until he found a corner where he could catch his breath and composure. Falling to his knees he tried to stop the carsickness and hangover resting his head against anything solid and steady.

From the corner of his twitching left eye read a giant neon sign:

“Welcome to Weekie Wachee! The Only City of Live Mermaids!”

And then he threw up.

 

Chapter – 2

Thomas looked out his fourth story WeHo condo window into the rising morning sun as it framed the silhouette of downtown Los Angeles high-rise office buildings.

He scratched the crotch of his Calvin’s arguing silently with himself. The master bedroom side table clock numbers flipped and 5:24 am changed too soon to 5:25.

“MARS PLEASE DON’T TELL ME YOU MISSED THAT BUS!”

The sound of his own voice scared him with its trembling cadence and volume.

Thomas’s eyes swelled with tears and for once in the last week he didn’t fight back the feeling and let it loose with a flood of emotions.

“Why does this have to be so hard? Honestly, I gave into your ridiculous levels of commitment.   Your “5-levels” of is this relationship worth it? Honestly. Fuck me! Really! Who the hell makes a love contract, let alone copies it (I assume) and then asks potential suitors to check off each square as a vow of insurance. This was a partnership, not a refrigerator registration warranty. Thomas found himself out of breath, out of mind and body arguing with no one.

Just seven months ago he was introduced to Marcus at a LA Pride Pre-Pre-Party. One of those events you attend as much to get a good parking spot before the anarchy of Pride begins -as well a good buzz. Mars walked out of the single bathroom with three other people all laughing hysterically at a joke that apparently was lost behind closed cramped doors.

His sparkling eyes looked up and caught Thomas’s in their grasp like a Denny’s claw machine arcade game. For a moment, Tom held his glance and felt the weight of Mars’s beauty and then like the plush toy that suddenly falls out of every young boy’s reach, he was gone.

It was two weeks until their next chance encounter.   Reading other people’s so important Facebook posts back on his iPad in a corner Starbucks, suddenly there he was. The barista took an order for a “Triple, Vente’ Half Sweet, Non-Fat, Caramel Macchiato,” and Marcus moved to the left along a receiving counter unaware of Tom’s stare. He wore a UCLA emblazoned blue hoodie with small subtext underneath that read: “On a clear day.”

“I’m Thomas Walsh.” Mars looked over his shoulder at the bearded 30-something making a complete fool out of himself.

“It was a Triple, Vente’….”

Cut off, Thomas realized Mars thought he worked at the Starbucks and was handing him his order.

“Sorry, I met you at Bill’s Pride Party last week.”

“OK.”

“You were with three friends, I think one is Raymond a friend of a friend of mine.”

“Yeah, I know Raymond, Ray Clarkson.” Mars attention was temporarily detoured when the barista called out his order. Moving down the Starbucks counter in choreographed sync, Thomas relayed every experience of last week’s events.

“Um, sure. I need this coffee, pardon me if we take this to a table. I gotta sit.” Mars found the first empty seat void of an Internet hijacker and plopped down splashing his Macchiato across the table.

“Let me get that, “ Thomas grabbed a recycled paper towel and began wiping the spill away. In the background, the coffeehouse music over the Starbucks Digital Network was temporarily interrupted for a commercial break for the Starbuck app for iPhone. Mars tuned Thomas out for the remaining twenty seconds recognizing the advert as one of his own creative. “Because a great cup of coffee can get you through a long day. And make waking up to the next one a whole lot easier.”

“Let me start again, I’m Tom. Tom Walsh. And you are?”

“Marcus Shine.” Mars extended his hand out to the interesting and ‘do-able’ lumber-sexual with the coffee stained hands.

“Shine” was the only word Tom heard staring back into his marble blue eyes. Thomas’s heart beat so hard he could hear his blood pounding in his ears drowning any and everything in his peripheral vision, but Mars.

 

Chapter – 3

How did Marcus find himself here in Weekie Wachee Florida, the only city in the world with more mermaids than people? This trip West was not supposed to be one of self-discovery. In fact, he resented Tom to his very core for even suggesting that he “find himself first before he could love anyone else.”

In his past life Marcus Shine held an advertising writer position, launching products, shows and services that we all didn’t know we needed in our daily lives. Talk shows with retired football stars, another 23 channels of MTV, Sponge Bob in Spanish, health products to gain muscle, lose weight, increase bone mass, shrink wrinkles; day trips to mountain tops, amusement parks, 24/7 emergency care, etc, etc.

The air brakes release of the Greyhound bus drew Marcus out of his LinkedIn resume trip and into a new reality; he was stuck in Hernando County for another eleven hours.

The bus threw gravel and dirt back in Mars’ face as he ran behind it screaming, “STOP” to no avail. Marcus hunched over and griped his knees trying to catch his breath.

Staring down at the dirt road he noticed something sticking out of the mud and broken shells.   He reached down and pulled up a Mold-O-Rama mermaid still in good shape.

Mold-O-Rama, where had that nugget of his childhood been filed?

Amusement parks, museums and traveling fairs used to satisfy a child’s instant gratification needs by making souvenir toys from injected plastic. His mermaid was missing a piece of her tail and some of her hair, but he held his new found treasure as if it was made of solid gold.

“You gots off the bus for me.”

Marcus spun around to find Crystal, standing in the middle of Spring Hill Dr., left hand on hip, high heels flung over his right shoulder.

“So you into mermaids?” Crystal saw Marcus holding the aquamarine plastic figure in his clenched hand.

“Ah, no, but, the bus, my bag, where, what?”

“One question at a time pretty boy, Crystal aint’ nos fortune tellers. Now it looks like yous done stuck here in the Weekie for the day. Your luggage will be let off at the next stop, so for the rights now, yous might as well walk with me.”

And just like that Crystal put one long leg in front of the other and sashayed down the abandoned drive, steadfast and determined to get to who knows where. But she seemed to have direction. And so Mars stuffed the plastic mermaid in his back jeans pocket and fell in for wherever she was heading.

 

Chapter – 4

Thomas stretched out the length of his king-sized bed then rolled over wrapping one arm over Marcus’s chest.   Mars was on his cell phone calling in to work for a sick day excuse with ‘that flu’ that is going around.

“Very convincing. You sold that sick day like a pro,” said Thomas.

“I write commercials for a living,” replied Mars. “I’m the king of false advertising.”

Thomas took mental note and then moved on. “So I guess I should have asked if you’re in a relationship before we had sex.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“To me, yes. I’m not one to break up someone’s good thing for something like sex.”

“But you didn’t know if I was or wasn’t currently in a relationship and had no problem, well you know.” Mars humped the pillow resting between them.

“Touché,” said Tom.

“And you, I assume there’s no husband?” questioned Marcus.

“I’ve been in and out of several, but currently flying solo.”

“And what do you do for a living? No, let me guess,” said Marcus looking around the bedroom with a judgmental eye.

“1000 thread-count Ralph Lauren sheets, Windows HP computer, box of assorted papers…”

Picking up one of several photos on the guest nightstand. “Group of friends in what looks like PV.”

Mars stood nude in front of a wall of books, “Well read. A bit heavy on biographies and memoirs for my taste,” putting a copy of Amy Poehler’s Yes Please back on the shelf.   Thomas was enjoying the rear view as much as Mars playful twenty questions.

“Pottery Barn or maybe Crate and Barrel throw pillows?” asked Mars.

“Right the first time, Pottery Barn,” replied Tom.

“Shush, this is my game, no clues allowed.”

Mars picked up a coffee commuter travel mug sitting next to Thomas’s car keys emblazoned with a high school baseball team logo. “The Wolverines,” Mars read aloud.

“You’re a teacher!”

“Amazing.” Thomas taught at one of the LA super-schools in the private sphere, Harvard-Westlake. “And what do I teach?”

“Visual and performing arts!”

“Please, I’m gay, but not that gay,” replied Tom. “English with elective classes in creative writing and Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare?”

Gesturing with his hand out to Marcus, “Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love, “ replied Tom.

“We few, we blessed few, we band of brothers. For anyone who shed his blood with me this day is my brother,” quoted Marcus.

“Well played. Henry V,” said Tom.

“No, PlayStation 3, Lost Planet commercial I wrote,” said Mars.

“Hey, all this quizzing has made me hungry. You up for some breakfast?”

“Sure. I barely finished my coffee before next thing I know I’m shacking up with you. Let me jump in the shower,” said Mars.

“Let me jump in with you,” replied Thomas pulling Mars by the arm and into the adjoining bathroom.

 

Chapter – 5

About two miles down the gravel poured drive turned into tar-paved State Road 50, Cortez Blvd. To his right, the first of six eye-catching signs caught Mars attention.

GET READY.

Ready for what? Good God, hadn’t he already been through enough?!

HOLD YOUR BREATHE.   Read the next sign just twenty feet ahead.

CATCH OUR LEGENDARY SIRENS. Sirens? That didn’t sound like a good thing.

“Hey Crystal. Ah, just where are we heading?”

GOT TAIL?

Now that sounded obscene. “Crystal, honestly I‘m not finding this fun any longer.”

“Just keep one foot moving in front of the other. Yous know how to do that now, like a good little soldier. Or majorette?” he finished with a slightly nasty giggle.

Another 20 feet – SAILORS WELCOME.

LIVE MERMAIDS AHEAD 20 FEET.

And with that last sign Marcus found himself at Weeki Wachee Springs State Park totally blowing his comfort zone out of the water.

“I told you I gotta show to do.” Crystal grabbed Mars’ hand and pulled him through the turnstiles and into a mysterious blue underwater world.

They entered a door marked “Mermaids & Mermen ONLY” and Marcus descended three stories wrapping around a spiral staircase. Bubbles rose along the picture glass window walls and for a second he held his breath and squeezed his nose.

A sign at the bottom of the stairwell featuring a striking black mermaid breathing through a plastic air tube and waving to the crowds read out:

We’re not like other women,

We don’t have to clean an oven

And we never will grow old,

We’ve got the world by the tail!

“You’re a mermaid?!,” Marcus couldn’t believe that Crystal was the star of Weeki. In fact, he didn’t know that there were any black mermaids. That sounded racist but everyone knows the closest underwater woman of any color was more Ursula before Ariel. He also made a mental note to research just how many women still clean their ovens…

“Have a sits while I gets ready.” She pointed to a wicker chair backing a makeup vanity mirror. Crystal took a seat facing the multi-bulb vanity and reached for a small gold-plated small box. In it she removed what appeared to be a tooth, her front tooth to be exact.

With one quick shove the tooth slipped on effortlessly, like Cinderella’s slipper. “This thing is constantly falling out so I just keep it here for work and say, WTF the rest of the time.” Suddenly Crystal had the soft and sexy voice of, well, Beyonce’ without any of the previous lisp or ghetto ebonic drag queen cliché’s. Amazing what good dentistry could do to not only appearance but also the need for an Urban Dictionary.

Just then three gorgeous women entered the room and the conversation.

“Hey Crystal. How was Key West girl? I know you have stories,” said Amber, a big-busted blonde stereotypical mermaid, if there is such a thing.

“Is this the Florida Keys ‘Fun Pack’ you bought?” Sofia, the Latina collagen-lipped mer-woman quizzed pointing with one long perfectly manicured fingernail in Mars direction.

“Um… No! I’m Marcus.”

“He fell of the bus, literally,” answered Crystal. “He’s on his way west to meet back up with the love of his life.”

“On a bus?! Really?” questioned Nicole. “This sugar daddy has a crazy way of showing you the love with a Greyhound bus ticket.”

“He’s not my Daddy, and the bus ticket was just…” Marcus mumbled to himself, then the door flew open again with four more underwater vixens and a perfectly waxed merman.

Walking straight up to Marcus, “I’m Chip,” he said with a deep southern accent, extending his hand out to meet Marcus’s.

“Marcus.”

“Where are you from?”

“Los Angeles, well Key West, and soon LA again, it was a short separation, we just had a…” Marcus sounded disoriented and ridiculous and decided to cut the introduction short before he made any more a fool of himself.

Chip slid out of his shorts and shoes and threw his tank top over his makeup station. He took a bottle of coco butter and began oiling up his hairless totally nude body with no care for his female cast members or Marcus himself.

“You gotta oil it all up Marcus, “ Crystal said grabbing Mars shirt collar and attention back to the rest of the room. “The water is 65’ degrees. It helps keep the body temperature up.”

Marcus thought that’s not the only thing that is up at the moment and rearranged himself in the chair so his back was to Chip.

Crystal removed the Beyonce’ wig and took another off a foam mannequin head sitting on her vanity. The long red hair was teased high with pieces of seashells and starfish intricately placed. Curled strands ran down her ebony neck ending in small seahorses giving the illusion they had something to do with setting her coif.

Amber emerged from behind a silk screen wearing a neon pink bikini top detailed with hundreds of rhinestones. Beneath was what looked like the bottoms from a cycling kit.

“You roll the top down and no one knows the better once you’re in the ‘tail,’” said Amber. “Your cooch can freeze right off if you don’t take care of it. Five hours in the Weeki, five days a week, you do the math.”

“She sits with a curling iron on low between her legs at the end of the day. No lie,” said Nicole.

Testifying with one hand up to Heaven, “I gotta bring it back to room temperature before I get home or Jake will be sporting a popsicle, “ preached Amber.

“If we’re talkin’ Jake, that’s more like a Klondike bar,” said Crystal, sending the room of mermaids and one merman into hysterics.

Crystal pulled Marcus up from his chair and back to the stairwell. “Come on sweetie. I gotta get into this tail and that’s one sight you don’t wanna see.“ Go get yourself a front row seat. You got a few hours to kill Marcus of Los Angeles. We do a version of Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Little Mermaid.”   It’s a ‘love conquers all’ theme. You might take a few notes.”

“Very funny! You girls…” before Mars could finish his sentence Crystal gave him a kiss on his cheek leaving a perfect sparkling pink champagne pair of lips and then she was gone.

 

Chapter – 6

Twenty breakfasts and forty-five late night dinners later, Thomas and Marcus found themselves on the eve of their 2-month anniversary and reason to celebrate. Gays apparently celebrate anniversaries in dog years.

Marcus sat cross-legged on the sofa diligently adding and deleting friends from their guest list.

“Bob and Rick, definite yes if they can leave those two dogs at home. No dogs. No children. No drama. That should be our anniversary theme. No D.C.D.,” declared Marcus.

Thomas rebounded with, “How about, please join us in celebrating two months of our togetherness.”

“Leave the copy writing to me, stick with the guests list. Jacqui and Rachel? Too early for lesbians.”

“What?”

“Lesbians are good for tearing down a party and carting things to and from in their Saabs or Subaru Outbacks, unless you’re Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson. They knew how to get a party started, but alas, they are no more.” Mars faked a small tear.

“Now I know you’re kidding, “ asked Tom.

“It’s a fact. All lesbians move in together on the second date.”

“We moved in together on the fourth,” Tom replied.

“Hush. This is my lesson in Lesbianese, not yours. We’re not serving anything remotely vegan and you know I hate Melissa Etheridge music.”

“Jacqui teaches with me at HW and her and Rachel have been together 14 years. They’re coming to our anniversary party. They’re a good influence.” Thomas put that invite to bed, or so he thought.

“And what does that mean?” asked Mars.

“There’s nothing wrong with surrounding us with supportive long-lasting relationships.”

Mars started sounding a little pissed. “Your friends.”

“Our friends. End of conversation! How about Ray? Sam? Jason? Steve? Your friends.”

“They’re all in P-Town. I was invited but I turned them down,” said Mars.

“How considerate.”

“That didn’t come out right. I wasn’t considering it, going to P-town.   Just all of my friends are away at the moment so its going to be a party of teachers, gym spotters, people that make my morning coffee and dog walkers.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

The doorbell rang twice interrupting both Marcus’s and Thomas’s trivial party planning. At the door was Philippe Chayefsky, professional party planner, very distant relative to Paddy Chayefsky, Oscar winner for the movie Network, and a dear friend of Thomas’s family.   It would take a pro to apparently pull off this two-month tryst and still call it a celebration.

“T. M. How are you both?” Philippe used only first letter names as introductions.

“Fine P. You’re just in time,” said Thomas.

“Call me Phil. Anyway, your mother the divine Ms. Julie, “Mrs. J” said that there’s already a marriage on the horizon and this little celebration needs some much-needed savoir-faire, shall we say.”

Thomas exploded, “She said what?”

Mars joined in, “That crazy woman, what the fuck.”

Thomas didn’t like Mars tone to his own Mother, though he planned on giving her and earful of the same as soon as Philippe “Phil” was done and on his merry way. “That’s my Mother, watch your mouth.”

“I can see my works cut out for me. Let’s start with cocktails.”

“I was thinking wine and beer,” said Thomas.”

“No darling, I was talking about my own. I’ll have a Vodka tonic, light on the tonic,” replied Philippe. “Now, I was thinking afternoon cocktails in the WeHo park where they throw Gay Pride, kind of a homage to where you first met. Catering would be by Kogi BBQ with Korean BBQ tacos and short rib sliders served from one of his gourmet food trucks.”

The more Philippe went on and on with plans that no one could afford, the more romantic a two-year anniversary suddenly sounded.

“And for desert we’ll do Coolhaus organic hand-made ice cream sandwiches…”

 

Chapter – 7

Marcus sat in the very front row in the middle seat putting him approximately 16 feet beneath the surface. A large curtain draped the scene in front of him hiding the adventure under the sea, or fresh water spring as it were. All around him seats began to fill with wide-eyed and wide-lap tourists. Obnoxious children tugged at their Mother’s arm throwing buttered popcorn all over the aqua blue vinyl seats. Overhead speakers belted out some classic fairy tale music. As the lights began to dim a noble storyteller voiced over the setting.

Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it; many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.

And with that, the enormous curtain in front of Mars began to lift revealing water so blue and clear you literally could drink it. At the bottom of the sea floor sat Chip in a giant concrete formed chair made to look like it was carved from a reef.   Floating to his left and right were Amber and Nicole waving to the crowd and keeping pace against the current with the help of long beautiful mermaid tails.

Jets of bubbles filled all the multi-framed glass windows and revealed in each a mermaid floating right in front of you. Mars reached out and touched the glass. The beautiful black mermaid on the opposite side of the glass touched back and winked in Marcus’s direction. Crystal did a back flip in a perfect circle bringing her closer to the glass and face to face with Mars. She pressed her lips to the window and Mars recognized that pair of lips instantly.

The voice over boomed throughout the Mermaid Theater scaring the six mermaids back to the protection of their Sea King. A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny.

Mars drifted away for a few minutes with thoughts of Thomas and the promise of his own eternal destiny. Just three weeks ago he found himself saying out loud the three words he had never muttered in his life. “I love you.”

Thomas looked up from his spaghetti marinara with meatballs and couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Dining at their now favorite restaurant Pierro’s, their meal together had been silent if not for the sound of breaking bread and slurping noodles with sauce. “What did you say?”

“I love you Thomas.” Marcus stared straight into Tom’s heart and pulled on every string like a concert harpsichord player. Mars kept his eyes focused on Tom and smiled that smile that melts gelato.

The pause between Thomas’s response and Mars declaration was terminally too long.

“I love you too Mars,” finally came Thomas’s reply. “You make me want to be a better man. Sorry, I know no borrowing movie cliché’s is on your list.”

“As Good As It Gets,” Mars recognized instantly the quote. “I’ll let that one go. This really is as good as it gets,” reaching one hand across the table, the basket of garlic bread balls and lovingly holding Tom’s hand. “This, this here is my destiny. Our destiny. Meeting you again in that Starbucks wasn’t chance. It was somehow predestined by a higher power.”

“You were pretty high if I remember right, “ laughed Tom.

“OK, you’re not talking me seriously. I’m trying to tell you something.” Mars gripped Thomas’s hand a little tighter.

Mars held his left hand over his heart, “This has never happened to me. Not me…” Marcus trailed off and put both hands on the table looking down into his lasagna.

Thomas stood and walked to Mar’s side of the table and cupped both their hands together. “When I first saw you at the party, the room fell silent. The same thing at Starbucks the next day. The same every morning since. It’s like the world stops spinning and you are my gravity. I don’t want this feeling to go away. I love you too.”

Marcus looked up from his Weeki Wachee seat to see the underwater show was coming to an end. Tears streaked down his face and he let them run to the corner of his lips. How long had he been sitting there recounting his relationship with Tom?

The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid.

And the curtains slowly closed while tourists applauded rushing off to be first in line for the glass bottom boat tour. Marcus kept his seat until finally he was the only one in the cavernous theater left with nothing but the salty taste of his own tears.

“Marcus of Los Angeles, did you like the show?” Crystal was standing to his left, still half mermaid and half drag queen.

“Yes, very much, “ Mars words were simple and his voice a little affected.

“Why don’t you come backstage while I slip out of this drag and into another and we’ll see about getting you a ride down to the Greyhound?” Crystal took Mars by the hand and found it wet with tears.

“I know my performance with spot on, but sweetheart this is the first time Crystal brought tears to the audience. Lets get back stage, you’ve been underwater long enough.”

Crystal borrowed Nichole’s Toyota Prius and packed her guest Marcus into the passenger seat and off they drove to the Greyhound station. Not even a half-mile down State Road 50 they reached the terminal. Marcus explained his predicament to the ticket puncher while Crystal sat outside with the motor running. She turned the Sirius radio over to an old disco station and Thelma Houston’s “Don’t Leave Me This Way.”

Mars walked back to the car so quiet you couldn’t tell it was running. Through the closed window Crystal was deep into her full Houston singing into the rear-view mirror.

Satisfy the need in me. Ooh baby, come and satisfy the need in me. Don’t leave me this way, no, Don’t leave me this way…

Mars tapped on the driver’s side window feeling a little guilty for interrupting the performance.

Crystal rolled down the window and turned the music down. “Sorry babyz, that Thelma sure knowz how to rip it ups.”   Crystal was missing the front tooth again, stored in a small gold box deep in the Mermaid Theater dressing room.

“No problem with getting the ticket. Next bus is just a half-hour away,” said Marcus.

“I tolds you. I hope your day here in the Weeki wasn’t too bad.” Crystal reached out the window extending one long ebony hand.

Mars took the invitation and bowed to his queen kissing the top of her hand. In his book, Crystal was royalty here in the small corner of Florida stuck somewhere in time.

“Thank you for giving this love-bound tourist an amazing day,” said Marcus.

“Thank you Marcus of Los Angeles.   Go find an amazing life with Thomas. It’s waitingz for you just west of that hill, just outside of Weekis, just outside your comfort zone.” And then Crystal pulled her hand back touching an imaginary pearl necklace and put the car in drive.

Mars could hear repeating choruses of Don’t leave me this way as she drove off into the sunset.

Oh baby, oh, don’t leave me this way, no
Don’t leave me this way.