Lovecraft and the Brothers Grimm

This story was written at the challenge of my friend classicrock2. He mentioned that my stories are mostly happy and that life isn't necessarily like that. Mine has been, but he suggested that I stretch my literary muscles and write a story that could happen to one of my characters, but take away the safety net. I could still give them a happy ending, but rainbows do come after storms. I took the challenge and here is the result.

Thanks to my team. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. SBrooks103x also gives me a pre-post read. My editors are Girlinthemoon, Hale1 and GeorgeAnderson. I must also thank Stef2244 for his input. Thanks to the classic one for the idea.

It was a beautiful spring day; the wind about fifteen knots and a pretty good chop on the water. Dad and I were having a blast. The boat was running smoothly and I was taking in some sail. We were hissing through the chop at a pretty good clip and I got the line tied off. I went to the cooler and got out one of my strawberry sodas and a Stella Artois, for Dad. We were maybe five miles out. The coast was just below the horizon, and when I looked at Dad, I saw his face turn white, even whiter than usual. He sprang toward me and I turned to look in the direction he had been looking. All I saw was a wall of water. It was about fifty yards away and it was speeding toward us like a freight train. I felt Dad grab me by the waistband of my shorts and I just froze, looking up twenty feet to the top of that impossible wall. It fell on us and I knew nothing.

When I woke up my head was throbbing like a bass drum at a Slipknot concert. I was in the water and there was an arm around my neck. Dad had somehow managed to hold onto me when all those tons of water fell on us. There was no sign of the boat. I was on my back with his arm under my chin and he was towing me.

"I'm awake, Dad," I told him. "What happened?"

"I think we just got hit by a rogue wave," he said. He was breathing pretty hard.

"Turn me loose; I can swim now," I told him.

"Are you sure, Collins?" he asked. I could hear the concern in his voice. "We've got a long way to go, baby."

"I'm sure," I told him. "I don't want to hear any 'black people can't swim' jokes, either. "We both knew we were in trouble, big trouble, but it was our way. I could still feel the panic bubbling behind my brain, but his presence calmed me and I kept it at bay with humor.

He laughed, but he turned me loose and we swam side by side for a while. There was enough chop to make it very frustrating. We kept getting hit in the face and choking on sea water. It's a particularly bad choke. Ocean water tastes awful, and making any headway at all was so hard that our mouths were open as we panted. We were both in pretty good shape and it was a good thing. We ran every morning, five times a week. I was doing track and he was my coach. At seventeen, I was in the best shape of my life and I think he was, too. The drawback to that was both of us were pretty muscular. That meant we were denser than fat people would have been and had to exert more energy just to stay up than most people would.

Ocean water is pretty dense, too. If it had been fresh water we'd have been in even more trouble. We swam for two hours and I started getting very tired. Dad could tell I was getting gassed and he made me roll over and he towed me for a while. I got some energy back and we swam on. I was praying for a boat, but I guess the gods weren't listening. I figured if there had been any boats out, they were in the same trouble we were. I ran out of gas pretty quickly and he towed me again. I could see land. I swam again and we made slow progress. Dad was moving very slowly and I could tell he was wearing out. I was exhausted, myself.

"Go, Collins," he gasped. "We can make it. Go, baby; I love you."

"I love you," I told him.

I put my face in the water and swam for the shore. This was the last bit of effort I was going to make and my only thought was moving my leaden arms and legs. I had zero energy for any other thought. I swam until I couldn't take another stroke. I was just going to have to put my feet down. If I was close enough to stand, it would be good; if not, this was it for me. I could see people running toward the water and I never felt anything as good in my life as I did when I felt sand under my toes. A guy was splashing through the water toward me and he grabbed me by the hand. Two more people, another man and a woman were pulling on me. I looked around and I was alone. "Alone, alone, all, all alone, alone on a wine dark sea." The words of the Ancient Mariner ran through my mind for some reason, and I screamed.

"Dad! My Dad's out there!"

I tried to pull away from the people holding on to me. They wouldn't let me go.

"There's no one there," I heard the man shout in my ear. "You weren't with anyone."

I fought like a wildcat. I kicked them and scratched them and tried to bite the man holding my arms. I was going back! I got away for a second and started swimming back out. They caught me and the man who got to me first punched me in the jaw and everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in an unfamiliar room. I was lying in what I realized was a hospital bed, and I tried to sit up. I couldn't and I realized that I was restrained. My wrists and ankles were strapped down and there was a strap around my waist.

"Good, you're awake," I heard a voice say. I turned my head and it all came flooding back. It was the man from the beach. I screamed again.

"Daddy!" I wept harder than I ever had in my life. A nurse came in and gave me a shot. "Call my aunt, Vivian Drake," I managed to get out.

"I'm so sorry I had to hit you," I heard the man say as I drifted away.

I don't know how long I slept but when I woke up, I heard Vivian's voice. "What the hell have you done to her? Get those restraints off of her right now!" She was very angry.

"We had to sedate her," I heard a woman's voice. "The restraints were for her safety. She was hysterical and she kept pulling out her IV and trying to leave."

"I'm responsible for her safety now," Vivian said. "Get those fucking things off her, now!"

I opened my eyes and she looked at me. When she saw that I was awake she ran across the room and threw herself on me. I cried and she held me.

"Ma'am, I can't get to her wrist," the nurse who was taking off my restraints told her.

She lifted up, but she didn't let me go. As soon as my arms were free, I clung to her as tightly as I could and we cried like babies. I couldn't stop crying.

"He saved me, Aunt Vivian," I sobbed. "He towed me and it made him too tired. He died so I could make it."

"I know, baby," she said. "That's how much he loved you. I would die for you, too. I would have died for him. He would have done anything for you. Just remember that. It would have made him happy for you to live, even if he had to die."

My arm hurt badly from where it was bent holding her. I knew it was the IV but I didn't care. I couldn't let her go! We cried together, just holding on to each other, until I fell asleep. When I woke up, she was holding my hand and the IV was gone.

"I want to go home," I told her.

"They're going to keep you one more day," she said. "You were badly dehydrated and exhausted and you had a concussion. Then we'll go home."

The TV was on and we were all over the news. Aunt Vivian had talked to a reporter and my story was what their lead. They talked about how Dad adopted me. Dad had been working with a charity in Kenya when he found me. My mother, from all accounts, was a prostitute and had abandoned me. He took me home with him and fed me. His sister, Aunt Vivian, was an attorney and she flew down the next day and they worked for six months getting it fixed so he could adopt me. Dad knew a lot of people and he and Aunt Vivian were pretty well off. As soon as they got the papers filed, we flew home. He got a job teaching high school and eventually, they got the adoption done.

They told that story on TV and talked about Dad being a hero. I couldn't stand it. I felt like I was suffocating, and Aunt Vivian noticed. "Turn that shit off," she told the nurse. "What the hell is wrong with you people? Hasn't this girl been through enough?"

The nurse apologized. "Your father was a hero," she said. "It's in all the papers and the lobby down there is full of reporters who want to talk to you."

"Jesus Christ!" Aunt Vivian exploded. "I talked to one of those vultures. Isn't that enough? Don't let them come up here or I'll sue this hospital for the rest of my life!"

"We won't let them up here," the nurse said. "Why are you being so hostile?"

"Because my baby is lying there in that bed and my brother is dead," Aunt Vivian told her. She burst into tears.

The nurse came over and patted her. I could see tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, honey" she said. "You can yell at me all you want. I understand. I've got two daughters of my own."

We were all crying by that time and Vivian apologized to her. The nurse gave us both a big hug and went out. We cried for a long time.

"What are we going to do, Aunt Vivian?" I asked her.

"We're going to do what Val would want us to," she said. "We're going to grieve together for a while. We're going to honor him with our lives. He gave you your life and we're going to make sure that we both have full happy lives while we honor him."

I didn't know how that was going to happen. I had just lost my rock. He was my life. I knew he wouldn't want me to mope around the rest of my life, but I was so sad. I was almost unbearably sad. I had Vivian and I loved her with all my heart, but she wasn't Dad. This was going to be the hardest thing I had ever done.

"We're going to be okay, baby," she told me. "I know it seems trite, but eventually we'll figure this out. We'll always miss him, but we'll figure out how to go on and be happy."

She snuck me out the back entrance the next day, and I went home with her. I stayed there two weeks and then she took me to my home. It had been our home: me and Dad. I cried for a long time when we got there, and so did she. We had a memorial service for Dad at the school gymnasium. Thousands of people showed up and it was good to see so many people who had loved him, but it just made me feel worse. They never found his body, and we just had a slide show at the service.

We stayed at my house for a week. Aunt Vivian thought we needed to figure out if we wanted to live at my house or hers. Whatever happened, we wanted to stay together and we discussed the pros and cons. She went back to work on a Monday, four weeks after the wave, and that afternoon the doorbell rang. I peeked out and there was a woman standing outside. She was a tall black woman, and she seemed to be alone. I had been dodging reporters, but she didn't look like a reporter. She just looked like an old woman.

I opened the door. "Can I help you?" I asked.

"Are you Collins Drake?" she asked.

"Who wants to know?" I said.

"Her mother," she told me.

I just stood there with my mouth open. I couldn't speak, couldn't move and my mind was a blank.

"Are you Collins?" she asked.

"Maybe you should come in," I told her.

I offered her a soda, and she took it. "So, about this mother stuff," I told her. "It seems improbable to me. This is Miami, not Kenya. My mother, according to what Dad told me, was a prostitute who abandoned me. I suppose you have some idea of what you're doing to me here?"

"I don't understand," she said. "I'm not doing anything to you. I wanted to find my daughter. I wanted to know if she was doing okay. I saw the story on the news and I knew it was you."

"First of all, I'm not your fucking daughter," I told her. "I have no idea what the circumstances of your life were. I'm not blaming you, but you're fourteen years too late to find out if I'm okay. Do you know why? I was starving to death and dying from pneumonia when the man whose daughter I really was saved my life. You abandoned me and I nearly died. The only reason I didn't is because of the kindness of a stranger. My "mother" left me to starve. I have a real mother now. She'd starve to death herself to feed me."

"You're right about all of that," she said. "I mean, the parts about me. You don't know anything about my life. You have no idea about how this happened. You don't know what I've been through."

"No, I don't. Do you know what? I don't want to know. Why are you here? What do you want?" I asked her.

"I just want to get to know you," she said.

"Well, I don't want to get to know you," I told her. "You've seen me. I'm okay. Now I want you to leave."

I had no idea whether to believe her; it seemed improbable, but possible. How could I know? How would I ever know. My thoughts were too jumbled to figure this out anything. I needed Aunt Vivian. I needed Dad, more than ever.

"Can we just talk for a while?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "We can talk when my aunt Vivian is here. She's an attorney, and I think she should be here. If you want to come back some other time, I'll talk to her and we'll set something up. Do you have a phone?"

"I'm staying at the Mandarin Oriental," she said. "You can call me there. My name is Mira Abelus." She gave me a card and I showed her out. She turned on the steps. "I'm really looking forward to getting to know you, Collins," she said.

I shut the door and called Aunt Vivian. "I need you to come home, right away," I told her.

"Baby, I'm in court in ten minutes," she told me. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm just filing some briefs. It might take me an hour."

I always thought my life was out of a fairy tale. You know, the kind where Prince Charming rides into the pictures, rescues the fair maiden and they all live happily ever after. My fairy tale was turning into an H. P. Lovecraft story. I was so upset I couldn't think. I couldn't imagine what that woman wanted. Why did she have to come here and fuck everything up like this? I had been happy! My life was perfect before Dad died. There wasn't room in it for this, and I wanted her to just go away. I could hardly cope without this shit.

My feelings were raw, before Mira showed up, and now I was a mess. I had always wanted a mother, but Aunt Vivian had filled that role, almost perfectly. I couldn't imagine anyone having a more beautiful, more caring, more loving mother than she had been. I had no feelings toward Mira, even if she did turn out to be my mother. The only feelings I had toward her were hostility.

I didn't want her, wanted nothing to do with her, didn't want any more complications or even to know her.

I was crying when Aunt Vivian got there. She's always known how to calm me down. She petted me and told me how much she loved me. I cried for a very long time. I never usually cry, but I couldn't stop and I had been doing a lot of it lately. I finally fell asleep with my head on her lap.

I must have slept about twenty minutes. I looked up at her.

"What's wrong with my baby?" she asked.

"Something terrible happened today." I said. "A woman came here and said she's my mother."

She got a strange look. "Do you believe her?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said. "Do you think she could be?"

"We could do tests. What did she want?" she asked.

"She said she wants to get to know me," I said. "Why would she want to do that? I don't want to know her. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "She can't force you to talk to her, Collins. I don't think she has any legal right to you at all. She abandoned you. We need to find out about her, I'll get investigators on it today. What did she tell you?"

I told her what the woman had said, what her name was and where she was staying. She made some phone calls and got her investigators on the job.

"We'll know more in a couple of days," she said. "Collins, I don't want you to be alone at all. You're going to have to come to work with me."

"Are we going to talk to her?" I asked.

"Maybe we should, but not until we know more," she said. "How does a Kenyan whore get to America, and how does she rate a five-star hotel?"

"I don't have a clue," I said.

She hugged me. "Collins, it's going to be okay. We'll fix this."

I went to work with her every day for a week. She had preliminary reports by that time, and we knew something about Mira Abelus. She had been a political aide. It was difficult to find out how she got to that position, and I couldn't imagine how a prostitute became an aide to a politician. Evidently, she had become wealthy and powerful. When he was overthrown, she managed to distance herself from him, somehow. She knew a lot of powerful people in Kenya, and evidently, she swung a big stick. She had been charged with human rights violations, but nothing stuck. This was getting worse and worse.

Vivian thought we had our ducks in a row, so I called her and set up a meeting. It was at my house, and I cooked dinner. Someone dropped her off in a limousine and she was, at least, impeccably dressed. We sat down at the table and I just stared at her for a while.

"Ask me anything," she said. "I know you want to."

"Why did you abandon me?" I asked her.

"I wasn't even aware that I had," she said. "I was a junkie, baby."

"You don't get to call me that," I told her. "My name is Collins."

"Okay, Collins, I was a heroin addict. My pimp got some very high-quality drugs for a change, and I didn't even know where I was for three weeks. I woke up one day with a priest on top of me. I noticed you weren't there right away. I asked him to help me find you, but you were gone. I thought you were dead. It destroyed me. I tried to kill myself a dozen times. That priest rescued me. He dried me out and we were lovers for years. He introduced me to a lot of powerful people and I made something of myself. I was here on business when I saw the story on the news. I knew it was you the minute I saw your picture."

"Who is my father?" I asked her, "And why haven't you ever tried to find me before, if you were interested in finding me? Why would you think I was your daughter?"

"I don't know who your father was," she said. "I was I was a whore, Collins. There were a bunch of English guys staying at the hotel I worked. One of them was your father. We can get a test done if you want to. I'm pretty sure that I'm your mother. You look just like I did at that age."

I couldn't imagine it. I thought we looked nothing alike.

"I never knew what happened to you," she said. "I had no hope of ever finding you. You vanished without a trace. I am your mother, though."

"No, you aren't," I told her. "That's my mother sitting right there." I pointed at Aunt Vivian.

"I understand," she said. "I know I'm grateful to her. I'm very grateful to Vallon Drake. I would never have suggested this if he was alive, but don't you think you should be with your family now?"

"She's the only family I have," I told her. "I think my birth mother is a whore who fucked some John. I don't want to see you again."

"I'm not like that anymore," she said. "I've spent my whole life regretting what I did. I was eighteen years old, desperate and Kenya had no opportunities for me. It was become a whore or die."

"I'd rather die," I told her. "You should have died."

"I was weak," she said. "I was eighteen, addicted to drugs, afraid of dying and I found a pimp who took care of me. After you were born, I tried to clean up, but I was just too weak. In spite of all that, I'm still your mother. I think you should be with me," she said.

We were through eating and we moved to the sofa. She sat in a chair and Vivian spoke to her.

"Whatever you want isn't important," Vivian told her. "The only thing that's important is what Collins wants."

"She's a child," Mira said.