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Of course, Fiona hadn’t planned on hiding it forever, but a less unorthodox revelation would’ve been nice.
Laying on the floor with her tail, underneath the yellow kitchen lights of Patricia’s kitchen at two in the morning?
Well, she tells herself, it is what it is, and finally looks up at Patricia’s stunned expression. She smiles casually.
“Would you like me to explain?”
“Um,” Patricia finally manages, clearing her throat harshly, “...that would be nice.”
“It all started when I was born,” Fiona sighs dramatically, but quickly begins to laugh. “Stop! Stop with the face, I-I’m just kidding, aha--!”
Patricia’s expression becomes a little more serious and she sighs. While Fiona knows Patricia won’t ever get mad at her, a smidge of consideration does make her realize Patricia is probably far more shell-shocked than she is.
“Okay, a real explanation would probably be nice, yes,” Fiona agrees to Patricia’s silent prompting, “so I’ll give you one!
“So, when I told you I was finally moving out from my mom’s place to take the design job here, I was sleeping in my car because I didn’t have the money for any good hotels. One night, I couldn’t sleep, so I left to--”
“That’s dangerous,” Patricia interrupts. “You should've had someone accompany you or have one of your friends let you stay at their place if possible.”
“Yes,” Fiona sighs, “but I didn’t. Plus, it’s in the past.” She ignores Patricia’s stern expression in favor of continuing her story.
“Anyways, the view was stunning, the moon and all, and the tide was high. I decided I’d walk along the coast, let my feet get wet if the water got high enough. I was really enjoying myself, you know, until I cut my foot on a shell and my blood began to stain the sand. I tried to wash my foot off in the water, but--surprise, surprise!--I had grown scales!
“I panicked for a while, but after I realized I was alive, awake, and well, I was calm. But I had a tail, like, a whole tail, instead of just scales!”
“What kind of fish tail is it?” Patricia asks. Fiona is silenced for a moment.
“I beg your pardon, Patty?”
“Fiona, I asked what kind of fish tail it is. As in, what species.”
Fiona claps her hands with a short laugh. “I never wondered! Let’s google it!”
After realizing Fiona can’t stand, Patricia scoots on the floor until she’s right next to Fiona, one of her legs pressed against her tail. Fiona snorts at the weird expression Patricia makes, but all she receives is an eyeroll.
“Red ocean fish,” Patricia murmurs as she types it in the search bad, word for word.
They both grimace at the image results, and Patricia scrolls down until some words pop up. “Rose fish.”
Fiona takes the phone and zooms in on the photo, looking between the fish and her tail before nodding. “Seems legit!”
“How did you become a rose fish mermaid... creature?” Patricia asks, her confused expression returning even after gaining some sort of knowledge.
“Oh! Right! I was explaining! Basically, every time I get water in a bleeding wound, I start growing scales, and if the water isn’t dried up quickly, ba-bam! I’ve got a tail. How charming is that?!”
Patricia looks away. “Not very charming…”
“But don’t worry! I was planning to tell you! But I wanted to reveal it in a cooler way, maybe even romantic…”
“Um,” Patricia coughs, “how is getting scaly after getting water in a cut gonna be romantic?”
Fiona pauses. “That’s a good question, but a better question is: haven’t you ever had crushes on the pretty mermaids in the movies before?!”
“...Yes,” she sighs, pressing on her cheeks with her flat palms. “But you aren’t in a movie, you’re actually my girlfriend, and you’re a mermaid when mermaids don’t exist.”
“Ah-ah! No! I do exist, thank you very much!”
“You’re not even a good liar, and I still believed you when you faked having bronchitis more than I believe what’s happening now…”
Fiona throws her head back and laughs. “Sorry, Patty! It is what it is! It would’ve been way cooler if this was another life and you were some cool pirate and I was the damsel of a mermaid you caught in a fishing net, but became too mesmerized by my beautiful eyes to kill me… okay, okay, haha! Geez, stop looking at me like I’ve grown two heads! Just get some towels.”
Patricia wipes the incredulous expression off her face as best she can and rolls her eyes as she eases herself up, a slight smile gracing her lips.
Fiona leans against the dishwasher and dries herself off once she gets the towels. Patricia stares intently, as if she’s a child insisting she’ll watch the cookies bake in the oven.
Fiona did that once, actually, when she was ten, but she fell asleep halfway through.
But now she’s back to being human, and Patricia looks a lot less uneasy.
“Aah, to be a mermaid girlfriend,” Fiona chimes, throwing one of the dish towels over her shoulder and posing. as if a model.
“I guess,” Patricia hums, settling her arms over Fiona’s shoulders in a hug. “But how’d you even get water in a cut in the first place?”
Fiona interlaces her fingers with Patricia’s. “I cut my hand cutting frozen cherries that I was warming under the faucet.”
She feels the soft rush of air from Patricia’s nose as she laughs brush against the back of her neck. “That’s so weird…”
“It’s all weird,” Fiona grins. “I’ll leave you to cut the cherries in the morning. For now, let’s get to bed. How late is it?”
Patricia stares absently at her and Fiona’s joined hands, which she holds close to her face before planting a soft kiss to the back of Fiona’s hand. “Late enough--let’s go, Miss Rose Fish or whatever.”