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The house itself extends into the ocean, sinking into the waves at a slope. Most of the walls are glass, meters and meters of it, and the ones that don’t give a view of ocean life look to be aquariums. The ocean is dark and fathomless in front of Ludwig while the aquariums glow blinding white behind him. Somehow they’re all connected, but Mr. Kirkland chose not to explain the architecture of his home. Ludwig isn’t there to question the streams of water that traverse the mansion.
The floor is always wet and Mr. Kirkland’s leather oxfords leave wet tracks that Ludwig follow. His boss never looks back, knowing that Ludwig is behind.
“You seem quite honest, Ludwig,” Mr. Kirkland—the youngest one, the tenth CEO, Arthur—speaks with a lopsided smile. It’s the kind of smile that would be more reassuring if Ludwig weren’t being led through dim, quiet rooms. Even the streams Ludwig is made to cross are silent and dark under glass. “That’s why you’re here. You’ve only been with us for a year, but you come highly recommended. Your quarterly evaluations read like love letters.”
“I only do my best. Sir. I like my job.”
His boss gives a genteel hum in answer, but nothing else. Ludwig glances to the left and watches an iridescent swarm of fish disappear into a knot of seaweed.
“Your supervisor says you are dependable and honest. You do as you’re told. Your questionnaire confirmed as much, as well.”
Ludwig opens his mouth to say something, but Mr. Kirkland cuts him off by stopping suddenly in front of a steel door. It looks out of place in between a side table with roses and a polished wood door. His boss nods at the wooden door.
“That is your room,” and with a hand at the steel door, he continues, “And in here is the reason I brought you here.”
–
One month ago Ludwig arrived at work to find his supervisor looking hassled and irritated. Kiku was a former classmate—an exchange student at university—and the one to bring him on board after Ludwig graduated school, then to recommend him personally to Arthur Kirkland (who enjoyed meeting personally with each and every potential hire, either because he cared that much about his family’s business or because he liked being in charge) and Ludwig had never seen the man anything but unflappable.
Kiku shuffled and reshuffled a stack of papers, standing at Ludwig’s desk.
“Is something wrong?” Ludwig asked, gripping his suitcase a little tighter. “We completed the blue prints on time. Did the presentation go poorly?”
Kiku just shook his head, holding out the stack of papers with a grimace. “Mr. Kirkland was down here this morning and personally delivered these questionnaires to us. He says he needs a house sitter for the week.”
Ludwig stared. Kiku just stared back.
After a moment, he sighed, “You don’t know anything about the Kirkland family do you?”
–
The Kirkland family had fingerprints on most of the industries in the United Kingdom and along the coastal edges of Europe. They even had a foothold in North America with offices in Toronto and New York.
Ludwig had eyed the business as his first choice to work after school. Germany wasn’t a popular recruitment ground for the company because one of the Kirklands died in the Somme Offensive and grudges were passed through the bloodline. At his interview, Kirkland had even complimented Ludwig on his perfect command of English, offhandedly saying, “Now I can only judge you on your qualifications.”
But the entire family was more than a little strange. A few years ago, the press had a marvelous time discussing the sanity of then-patriarch Alistair choosing to abandon the construction of a new facility because of “fairy rings” found near the site. He chose to procure and update an older facility of an out-of-business factory, which turned out to be a cheaper option, but the press still affectionately called him nuts even months later. Arthur, who magnanimously gave his older brother a hefty allowance and all the Scottish property Arthur was meant to inherit, eventually maneuvered Alistair out.
Beyond this, the family claimed to be descended from King Arthur’s court. More than once the family expressed the importance of maintaining Britain’s cultural heritage, but mostly belief in magic and otherworlds. Arthur Kirkland never spoke a word of his family’s beliefs, but Ludwig saw the iron rings on his fingers.
To put it bluntly, they never really wanted anything normal. They even spent the most of research and development, losing more money than winning contracts. But all that lost money never seemed to make a dent in their fortune.
Arthur Kirkland was heralded as a breath of fresh air and was featured on every business magazine from Tokyo to Mumbai to New York. He was supposed to be a wunderkind, credited with rebuilding the company holdings in Asia but Ludwig honestly had never heard of the man until he walked into his interview in a crisp suit and surprising even Kiku.
Now he was standing ahead of Ludwig, squatting next to a pool of water, fingers gliding lazily through its utter blueness.
Ludwig shifted nervously. “Sir?” He steps forward.
“He’s just shy,” Kirkland says quietly, intently. “He was watching us. You must make him nervous.” In a louder voice, he says, “Ludwig won’t hurt you, darling. He likes his job.”
Ludwig wonders why his questionnaire, out of hundreds of eager and wanting to please employees, was chosen.
–
“I can’t just trust anyone,” His boss murmurs, drying his fingers with a handkerchief. Nothing had appeared from the water, leaving the man sullen and curt. “I have a merman, and he gets very lonely. But I can’t just have anyone watching him. He’s one-of-a-kind and I won’t see him stolen away, to some filthy laboratory and vivisected and dissected or what have you.”
Ludwig can’t find any words and when Kirkland looks at him, maybe that bewilderment is visible. Kirkland’s expression softens.
“His name is Matthew. He is a merman—yes, a merman. I saw him off the coast of Calais. You don’t have to feed or wash him or anything like that. You don’t even have to enter this room. Although, if you do, be very careful and stay close to the door. He’s vicious when he’s upset, and he upsets easily. I’d hate to lose you; you put together a very good proposal.” But then the man’s face shifts unpleasantly. He steps forward; Ludwig steps back.
“But you are not irreplaceable, Ludwig. Do remember that.”
–
Kirkland leaves for two weeks, and Ludwig is not expected to work from home, except minimally but only after Matthew’s needs have been met. And Ludwig’s well compensated for doing nothing more than watching a mythical creature and maybe checking his email.
Ludwig falls back on the bed and tries very hard not to look up where he can see an aquarium above his bed. Somehow it must lead to the other room, but Ludwig can’t bring himself to check.
Even with his eyes closed he can feel the burn of its artificial light.
He can feel something else’s eyes on him.
–
There is still no sign of Matthew the next morning. Ludwig makes his toast and coffee and reads the paper.
He uses the gym facilities and manages not to get lost in the cavernous house.
Ludwig even goes out to the beach, exercises on the sand and stares out at the slate-grey sky and wonders if there actually is a merman or if insanity is bred into Kirkland genes.
He decides to go back to Matthew’s room, taking a moment to stop by his room to pocket some of the jewelry that his boss claimed would please the creature.
–
The pool of water takes up most of the room. Ludwig lingers by the doorway, on the gleaming tile walkway that leads to a circular platform. The entire room is a soft sad grey.
Ludwig’s heart pounds. He can almost taste it in his mouth, how nervous he is. He turns the heavy gold ring he pocketed in his fingers but he accidently drops it and with a plink it rolls into the water.
What does he know about mermen?
Merfolk can bring down destruction and drive men to insanity. Arthur had spoke about this one like a beloved pet, caressing the creature’s water like a lover, sinking his hand into the depths, searching, coaxing. Merfolk could be kind, could be as capricious as the sea that guarded them.
Some sailors came back from sea, silent about her workings until alcohol forced it out of them. And then all they had were half-formed ramblings and tears. How they barely escaped with their lives, how they remember seeing only sharp teeth in the overwhelming blackness of the ocean.
Ludwig grew up in a landlocked town with an older brother working to pay for Ludwig’s schooling and thus too busy to take his brother out to seaside. The furthest they got was the German border. Gilbert ensured he never wanted more. Ludwig didn’t have to look further from his brother’s tired smile to ask for anything more.
The water trembles.
And, slowly, from the surface breaks a pair of eyes and a mop of sodden hair. Slowly, so slowly, Matthew appears.
Ludwig isn’t a coward, and he isn’t afraid. But myths are myths for a reason.
–
He wakes in his room, and Ludwig looks up to see the merman’s face floating above him.
Ludwig shoots out of bed, and Matthew watches him with a bright smile from behind the glass. His hands are against the glass, delicate webbing between the fingers, and when Ludwig doesn’t move, Matthew presses closer to the glass, the length of his tail folded close.
Then, he tilts his head back with a wider smile. And, with a twist of his body, he darts out of view.
Stiffly, Ludwig forces himself to the other room.
–
“You left before I could thank you,” Matthew speaks quietly, pushing his self out of the water and propping up on the circular platform. The ring gleams on his finger and Matthew looks down at it and looks back up with as shy smile. “No one but Arthur brings me gifts. Are you the one he said would keep me company?”
Ludwig nods and clears his throat. He hates that his voice cracks when he says, “I am. My name is Ludwig.”
Matthew’s face lights up and Ludwig thinks he understands why Arthur was so vehemently protective.
“You know, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m glad you are, but you don’t have to be. I like you.”
Ludwig also understands why Arthur recommended he stay by the door, because suddenly Matthew is out of the water, sprawled across the platform with the darkest purple of his tail in the water, the fin spread across its still surface. Ludwig hadn’t even seen the merman move.
“Will you come closer?”
–
After that, Matthew keeps him company, drifting along the walls, curious and engaged and utterly taken with everything Ludwig does. He moves in a feline way, stretching and twisting and darting out of view with such speed it leaves Ludwig dizzy.
Matthew moves in spirals and tight spins, upside down and then rightside up. He peers at Ludwig through his fringe. Sometimes, he holds his hand with the ring on it close to his chest and floats on his back while Ludwig reads. Ludwig comes to expect him by his bed in the morning and at night.
He enjoys it.
–
Ludwig eventually migrates to the edge of the platform because Matthew demands it. Ludwig had been hesitant, and Matthew had flung the ring at him in a rage and Ludwig’s guilt had drawn him closer to return it. He tries to remember that Matthew’s species carries a bloody history, but it becomes exhausting and unnecessary. Matthew isn’t trying to kill him.
Now, Matthew is turning the pretty ring over in his hands, fingering the emerald set into it. He lays on his back, fin idly slapping the water, hair spread around him. Ludwig sometimes watched the lazy flutter of his gills, wondering how he could breathe still.
“Talk to me, Ludwig,” Matthew says, turning his head toward him. “You’re so different from Arthur, more interesting to me.”
“We could make it into a game?” Ludwig offers. His boss had called earlier to remind him that Matthew bored easily. Apparently merman loved games.
Matthew’s face lights up. “You’re so good, Ludwig,” He says, delighted. “Tell me the game.”
The game is just a question for a question and answer for an answer. Ludwig answers a question, then Matthew. It’s a simple, boring game, but Matthew flushes while Ludwig explains it. It makes Ludwig blush in turn.
“What is your favorite piece of treasure?”
Ludwig thinks and thinks, but has no answer. Eventually he just says, “Cufflinks.”
Matthew stares at him, mouth drawing into a pinch. Ludwig shrugs.
“They pull a suit together. Now it’s my turn. What is your favorite fish?”
“The red ones,” Matthew thinks for a moment, “Maybe you can bring me some? Arthur never finds the right kind and always just gives me lobster. I hate lobster. They’re vermin, you know.”
Since “the red ones,” don’t describe a specific fish, Ludwig finds himself holding an encyclopedia of fish in front of Matthew while the merman studies the pictures, fingers pressed to his mouth as he thinks.
He finally finds them and Ludwig leaves the mansion for the first time to go buy them. Matthew’s waiting in the parlor’s tank when Ludwig returns with a plastic baggie of two fish.
And he’s touched when Matthew bashfully offers him one. But Ludwig refuses and just smiles softly when Matthew devours the both of them.
–
A week passes and Ludwig finds himself staying longer and longer in Matthew’s company. The merman is always pleased to see him, curling up next to him. Sometimes he touches Ludwig’s arm. After a while, he gets bolder and touches his knee and then his thigh. Ludwig holds his breath when Matthew touches his face, his hooded eyes so close to Ludwig’s face, his fingertips finding the edges of his jaw.
Matthew goes from shy to daring, cupping Ludwig’s face. Kirkland had warned that the merman was curious, but hadn’t specified in what way. Ludwig assumes this is normal, until Matthew whispers, “You have such kind eyes. Arthur does too, but he doesn’t look at me like you do. He gives me ropes of pearls and gold, but never a seashell. And you brought me two.”
Both shells had been vivid purples and Ludwig hadn’t brought them for Matthew in the beginning so much as he had taken them for himself. He had shown them to Matthew and didn’t have the heart to take them back the merman held them in his hands. He had offered them to Matthew because the merman had yet to look away from them.
Matthew nuzzles the side of his face, and Ludwig pushes him way. Matthew falls back and looks heartbroken.
Ludwig wants to pull him back. But heart throbbing, Ludwig leaves.
–
Ludwig jerks off in the shower, gasping wetly against his forearm.
–
The aquarium tanks are empty for the next two days. His boss returns in three.
On the second day, Kirkland calls and says his trip is being extended. Ludwig must stay another week and another few thousand are deposited into his bank account.
Ludwig sits on the expansive deck and stares out at the ocean. The rush of the waves doesn’t soothe him, and he feels like the white-tipped current is dashing right against him. He thinks about Matthew locked away in the house, so close to his home, so close to the waves that are his birthright, that beat against the rocks and walls of the mansion like they want to drag the entire structure down so the ocean can reclaim its child.
And then there’s Ludwig, who has never deviated from any norm: never a parking ticket, never a late fee, never another man. Ludwig knows he’s a good man, because that’s whom Gilbert raised.
But he still wants Matthew. He wants to spread his hand across that pale belly when Matthew stretches out next to him. Ludwig wants to pull Matthew to him, slide his hands down the other’s scales and feel the shift of color under his hands. He wants to make Matthew blush and call out in that lilting song that Ludwig sometimes wakes to. He wants to kiss the paper-thin skin of Matthew’s gills.
Merfolk drive men to insanity, but no one ever specifies what kind.
–
At the turn of the century, a society column profiled the Kirkland’s vast collections. The family had accumulated decades of curious finds. Of course, they had normal works of arts—watercolors and oil paintings and sculptures by the masters—and fossils and ivory and all kinds of pieces gotten by legal and legally ambiguous means. But then they had the stranger items, like ancient specimen jars with deformed things in the discolored liquids and skeletons of creatures never seen. The column claimed the family had a sphinx guarding their fortune.
It was all gossip fueled by the hopes of the public wanting to find something undesirable about an old wealthy family.
Ludwig flips through a book of ghastly and gruesome medical sketches with a frown of distaste. There is a painting that would make Hieronymus Bosch cringe hanging above him and Ludwig wishes his boss had kept some rooms off limits to him.
Matthew’s curled up at the bottom of a tank in the middle of the room. There’s a hole in the ceiling where he must’ve come down. Ludwig glances at him once to see Matthew with his cheek on his folded arms, looking at Ludwig with half-closed eyes.
He perks up when Ludwig’s gaze lingers, but remains cautious and slowly sits up. After a moment, Matthew touches the glass and presses his cheek against it.
He darts back when Ludwig approaches, but returns when Ludwig presses his palm against the tank.
Matthew nuzzles right under his hand, and if it weren’t for the glass, Ludwig would be able to touch him properly.
–
“It’s such an ugly room. I’m happy you left it.”
Matthew waits at the edge of the platform; looking more and more calm the closer Ludwig comes.
“That was Arthur’s father’s room. He was an ugly man. His wife could’ve been good, but then she married him.”
When Ludwig finally sits down, Matthew comes out of the water and curls by Ludwig’s feet, one hand wrapped around his ankle. Ludwig knows Matthew is cold, but his skin burns where he touches Ludwig.
“How long have you been here?” Ludwig asks. He wants to touch Matthew, but the guilt stops him. He can focus on Matthew though in other ways.
Matthew blinks, shifting, and god, Ludwig wants to follow the meandering line of his body, down those iridescent scales right into the depths of the water. He understands why Kirkland leaned so heavily into the water. He’s understood since Matthew thanked him for the ring.
The merman’s expression becomes a little bitter. He says, “Arthur was a child and his father brought me here. We grew up together, in a way. He loves me very much. When his father died, he built these walls for me. Otherwise, I was in only a tank.”
“He does love you very much.” Ludwig silences his heart. Arthur Kirkland and his love are not the enemies Ludwig wants.
Matthew just hums, his arms folded against his chest. Casually, he says, “I would rather you love me.”
–
Arthur Kirkland returns and Ludwig turns down every invitation for tea and dinner and flees from the house, tuning out the way Arthur calls for Matthew.
The following Monday, Kirkland is at Ludwig’s desk, idly flipping through Ludwig’s dog calendar.
“Matthew says you took excellent care of him,” The man puts down the calendar. It’s the wrong month—April, with an Irish Setter—but Ludwig knows better than to mention it. Kirkland’s expression is closed off and it unnerves Ludwig. The man glances right at him, his eyes borderline poisonous. “He keeps asking for you.”
“Sir, I—“
“You had better come for dinner, or else he’ll never shut up.”
–
Dinner is a silent and subdued affair. Matthew sneaks him a smile, but when Arthur snaps at his butler (and where was he when Ludwig couldn’t find coffee?) for more wine Matthew curls in on himself, drifting away from the setting.
“You should visit him after you wash up, if you’d like.” Kirkland tells him, and it sounds like a threat. “Or else maybe after coffee?”
Ludwig never admits that he missed Matthew, too.
–
Arthur Kirkland missed Matthew, too.
Ludwig knows he was told to come by, so it feels like his boss meant for him to find him and Matthew like this.
When Kirkland glances up at him, his green eyes daring, Ludwig knows he was meant to see this, meant to see Matthew like this under Kirkland.
Matthew writhes, keening, and Ludwig, bile in his throat, leaves.
–
His boss drops sugar cubes into his coffee and then licks his fingers, eyes meeting Ludwig’s. He’s wearing a new ring, with an emerald set into it.
Ludwig’s never hated someone more than he hates Arthur Kirkland.
–
Ludwig assumes Matthew throws a tantrum because Kirkland calls him back to the house and his hand is wrapped. He leads Ludwig back to Matthew and waits, but when Matthew comes out of the water only to hiss at him, the man leaves.
Matthew’s malevolent look fades immediately and he holds out his arms for Ludwig. When Ludwig doesn’t move, the merman raises his voice, a mournful song coming out.
“Is it because of him?” Matthew demands, cheeks wet and eyes red. He touches Ludwig’s face, grips Ludwig by the knot of his tie. “Do you think I want him? I want you and your seashells.” Desperately, the merman pulls at him and Ludwig pulls him out of the water to hold in his lap. He’s soaked, now, but Matthew, pleased, curls against him, his fingers running through Ludwig’s hair.
And then he’s kissing Ludwig.
–
“You’re fired, by the way,” Kirkland says as he stands in his doorway about to see Ludwig off. He looks bruised and furious, and Ludwig thinks he should feel guiltier about his wet clothes. But he isn’t. “Now fuck off.”
–
(Arthur Kirkland is lost at sea a month later. After only a week, his brothers accept and announce his death.
Ludwig visits the empty mansion the night before the Kirklands auction it off.
He stands in front of a familiar steel door and wonders.)