That fateful night, I left my hometown, escaping into the vast ocean. I would never see my friends, parents, or familiar streets again. It saddened me that I had to leave it all behind. The happy, successful, and fulfilling life I had, my built paradise – all of it lost because of one decision. As I rode against the waves and watched my home dissolve into the horizon, I cried. I could never imagine I would be in this situation. I was a criminal, a fugitive, a murderer. I disagreed with those titles, but everyone else would never see me as anything else. It broke my heart, realising my life would never be the same. Constant instability is stability in itself, but being used to one balanced way of life and then getting my ground knocked out from under my feet felt overwhelmingly painful. My head seemed to spin from the stress I experienced. Tears kept rolling down my cheeks even when I was calmer. Not even a day passed before I started to miss my home and the people there. However, at least I had Sakharkarkhan with me. He would travel by my side or on my boat, holding me in his tight embrace when I felt especially broken. We would spend nights and days together roaming the wild waves of the unforgiving ocean.
The plan was simple. We would keep our heads low, staying out on the water. I would use my prepared provisions as planned, but without worry about them running out, because we counted on them to. I’d spend a couple of weeks like this, after which a more complicated part would begin. Han would find a place for me to leave my boat. Leaving traces of empty cans and signs of presence, we would abandon it for someone to find. We would make it look like my provisions had run out, and in desperation combined with starvation, I drowned myself. In reality, Sakharkarkhan would carry me kilometres away to a distant island. That underwater trip would take a whole day, and we both had to prepare for it. Yet if we were successful, I could start over in a new place.
We did as planned. I packed some of the provisions to take with me, together with some sentimental essentials. Clothes, photos, technology - anything I had on that boat that had been my house for many years - was about to be abandoned and forgotten. There was no way for me to take my stuff with us because that would be suspicious and would add additional weight to the already demanding travel. While I staged the boat to appear messy, Sakharkarkhan lay on the nose of it, saving power for the upcoming journey. By nightfall, everything was ready. My boat had never looked so chaotic, yet it perfectly painted the picture of a frantic survivor clinging to his last bits of hope. Empty cans and water bottles, contraptions for rainwater collection and fishing, empty gas tank. I left a note on my desk inside:
“I, Isaac Lopes Ruiz, am tired of running. My supplies have ended, the ocean refuses to provide me with sufficient food, and my boat is out of gas. I can’t travel, I can’t keep fighting, I… I want to give up. There is no life for me after what I’ve been accused of. There’s no way for me to prove my actions were justified. If you find this boat and this letter, please tell my family that I loved them. I miss them greatly. I know it will hurt them to know of my fate, but I can’t keep running like this. I wish there was a different way, but I guess… I’ll join my grandmother in the ocean’s depths much sooner than I anticipated.”
There was much more I wanted to say in it, yet I couldn’t. I didn’t want to make it too long, giving out information that could lead someone to my trail.
We left during the night. When I dived into the cold early spring water, I felt my limbs getting numb. My lungs seemed to shrink under the pressure of the temperature. However, I felt no fear. The arms of my beloved Han wrapped around me, taking and holding me in a sweet embrace. I put my hands around his neck, holding close to his body. A small backpack on my back with provisions and essentials, closed tightly not to leave a trace. Chills ran through my body. I would have to endure this cold for the next twelve hours. Sakharkarkhan kissed me gently, then transferred me to his back and rose to the surface. I had to stay over the water to breathe, but it was about to slow our travel. We had planned for it, yet I still wasn’t thrilled about it. As we started swimming, all I could do was think. I was leaving the last pieces of my home behind, going into the unknown of the future, with only my boyfriend to help and support me. I loved him, of course, but now he was the only one I had in my life, which made me feel very lonely.
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We swam the whole night. We would do it in intervals of faster and slower swimming. Sometimes I would hold my breath for as long as I could so we could cover more distance; sometimes we both would stay on the surface to relax and take a break. When the first rays of sunlight showed over the horizon, they lit up the silhouette of our destination like light at the end of a dark tunnel. Sakharkarkhan and I exhaled with relief when we saw the island. On the shore, we were already awaited by the residents. People with torches and mermaids we were familiar with waited for both of us to reach our new home. Han brought me as close as he could. My body was so cold I couldn’t stand. The people who greeted us had to carry me to the shore and straight to their local hospital. Sakharkarkhan was so exhausted he couldn’t hold himself afloat anymore. Other mermaids picked him up and carried him away to the safety of the deep ocean. I didn’t get to say thank you or goodbye to him that morning. We were both drained and in need of care. Thankfully, we had others to rely on.
My life didn’t end that day, it had only begun anew. Another branch of a complicated tree called survival. Like a phoenix, I got to begin my story from the start, being reborn into a new way of living. The island wasn’t big. It was nothing in comparison to my hometown. People there didn’t like to rely on technology, had a simpler lifestyle, less of everything. Food was self-grown or hunted. Farming, fishing, and other manual jobs were a necessity, not a luxury. My skills as a fisherman weren’t as useful there, because everyone knew how to catch a fish, so I had to learn new skills. Pottery and craftsmanship became my choice, since I already enjoyed doing them as a hobby before. My expanded knowledge after many visits to the library came in handy to teach kids basic language. I started working as a teacher for older kids on most days and as a ceramist on others. The community welcomed me with enthusiasm. People there indeed loved mermaids. They had common spaces where humans and creatures of the ocean could spend time together. Relationships between species were seen as normal, though they weren’t common. Sakharkarkhan and I stayed together. It was unusual to be out like that in the open. We would spend hours in communal spaces, hanging out together or with our friends. Some days, we would swim far away into the ocean to get away from the small, though friendly, island, and spend some time with no extra eyes around.
A year later, I proposed to Han. The island recognised official unions between people and mermaids, even if it would hold no legal strength anywhere else. My proposal went astray from the beginning. It was hectic and awkward, but Han said ‘yes’. I was as happy as I could have been. I wish my family and friends from my hometown could be there for the ceremony, to see me glowing with bliss. I could never imagine myself married before, yet with Sakharkarkhan it felt right.
Two years later, when I was 33, we built a house where both Han and I could comfortably live. Right on the edge of the shore with a view of the ocean. Now we had a place that was only for us to share. No unwanted eyes on us while we got lost in each other’s touch, no need to count days to see each other again. We were free to do what we wanted, the way we wanted. Free of judgment, opinions, or needless drama.
On our second anniversary, Han surprised me with a gift I could never have imagined. He brought me a stack of letters from my parents and friends from my hometown. I was speechless. I cried reading them. Then I wrote back. Without Ramon to fuel the propaganda against the mermaids, my town became more peaceful. People still hated mermaids. Fear isn’t easy to uproot. Yet my face was forgotten quickly. I still couldn’t come back, since I was considered dead, but communicating through letters was now an option. I started writing to them periodically. Sakharkarkhan or other mermaids would carry it to the town and hide it in a designated place. The system worked well. However, I still missed seeing them.
Life was good again. New community, new job, new way of living. A husband I adored, a house I could call my home, and an overall feeling of fulfilment. It all was good. It all is good.
Now I am 35 years old. My birthday was yesterday. As I’m writing this down, my parents and close friends are on their way to the island to finally meet me after these five years. I’ll give this manuscript to one of my friends, who will hopefully find a way to get it out to more people.
What was the point of this story, you might ask? It’s simple. I want people to know about it. Mermaids aren’t monsters. Far from it. Differences between us might blind us, but the truth is, no matter who you are, we all come from one mother: the great, mighty, and magical ocean.
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