The Last Nymph

The Long Beautiful Day

When the two reached the taverna on the desolate beach, there was no one there. Doc fondly remembered the place and was amazed how things had not changed in many years. As theirs was the first sea taxi of the day, he understood there might be more people arriving later, as it was Greece's island custom to party until late at night and wake up by midday or later for beach-going. That's when tourists and locals alike would head to the beaches and lounge for the remainder of the long day, swimming and sunning until sunset. At that point they would return to their hotels to shower, dress for the night and begin the whole cycle again.

But Doc and Maera were qualitatively different from all those who would be swimming and sunning on most of the beaches that day. He recognized his own uniqueness as a bona fide recluse, escaping humanity as he had once known and willingly participated with it. And Maera, well, Maera was such an enigma that she defied all explanation to anyone who did not know—as Doc so exclusively did, her origins somewhere manifested out of thin air, and the otherwise impossibility of physically embodying the ancient myths.

There on that unpopulated beach, as the two walked in the sand, it all seemed to make sense to Doc: That all of it—the world he once knew, had now morphed into something at once uncannily foreign and unrecognizable, yet at the same time beautiful and euphoric. He no longer wanted to question it, but rather just immerse himself into it further with his new companion, and in a way that continued to please both of them.

The two took refuge at the taverna from the early heat. They sat in the large purple beanbag chairs, and under the palm frond umbrellas. Doc could see no one working the bar inside and knew it was a result of the early hour. Maera, after placing her shopping bags on the chair, reached in and fished out her new pink bathing suit. Standing next to him she modestly turned around and quickly undressed herself to put on the suit.

"It's beautiful, Doc," she said turning and bending down to give him a kiss on the cheek. She took a long, loving look at the wide-open sea and walked toward it, eventually diving into the shallows and not surfacing until she was far out offshore. Doc took the occasion to also change into his bathing suit. Escaping the bright sun, he too waded out into the water and swam out a few meters, eventually immersing his whole body under the cooling salt water.

As he swam further out, he could clearly see the distant bottom brilliantly white and reflecting up. It was only a short time before Maera appeared as a pink and flesh-colored flash below him. She then surfaced and smiled, throwing back her golden hair out of her eyes.

"It must feel good to be home again in the sea," he said.

"Oh, yes," she answered, smiling again and gliding effortlessly close to him. "Doc, I want you to do something for me."

"And just what might that be," he asked, treading the water with some difficulty.

"I want you to kiss me . . . sweetly under the water."

It was a romantic idea, but there lingered in Doc's collective consciousness, some menacing idea of purpose that the Nymph might be up to. Wasn't this, after all, how she had behaved for thousands of years, luring helpless men into the sea, below the waves, and for just such a kiss?

"OK. So how do we . . ."

"Just go down under the water and meet me there. We will kiss."

Again, some distant alarm bell went off in Doc's former, more academic mind. This strange apprehension was compounded by his feeling of helplessness, being out of his element in the deeper water.

Maera moved closer to him. Close enough to hold him in her arms.

Was this how the end may have come to some of those unfortunate men of long ago--irresistible to the Nymphs' charms?