Maera was a nymph. Or was she? She claimed to be a genuine Nereid from antiquity. Right out of the pages of Greek mythology. Well, that's what she told Doc Roussos who lived alone on the island. Kalamos was remote and sparsely populated. An exquisit...
The days passed painfully as Doc considered what the intruders of his world had come to tell him. The fact that Maera had not returned in over a month brought him to the realization that there was a chance his mental condition had indeed deteriorated over the summer. Yet, he could not accept that the Nymph was only a figment of his over-active imagination. She was too visceral. Too real.
Doc kept flashing over in his mind during those cooler days and nights, images of Maera—her words, her naivete about humans, her profound curiosity, and of course, those wonderful moments of love and companionship they shared while visiting Lefkada.
Was it truly possible that over the past three—now going on four years, while steeped in his self-chosen solitude, that he had truly lost his figure-ground with reality? Doc had always maintained a solid constitution mentally when in the lecture hall, researching the masses of myths he wrote about, and with colleagues and publishers. His mental acumen had been legend in his field. But that once-accepted foundation had been seriously challenged now.
The only time he had questioned Maera's tangible presence was when she first appeared to him, identifying herself as a "Nereid." Yet after her warm words and naturally perceived movements about him in a shared plane of being, Doc simply began to accept her as who she said she was. From that point on, there had been too many revelations about her past and remarkably long exciting life to be anything close to an imposter. Doc's expertise on the realm of myths and particularly the pedigree of its many inhabitants—Nymphs certainly included, further served to verify Maera's remarkable authenticity.
And then there was the physical interactions with her—the embracing, the kisses—both underwater and on land. The sensual lovemaking and romantic sleeping together. How could all of that, coupled with the element of emotion he felt for her, and she for him, be somehow foisted upon him as a mere illusion?
In all the days of her absence now, Doc could just not surrender his faith that she was anything but a living breathing creature—one who shared the sea and land he occupied with a similarity of spirit and the desire to be independent in a world they had both chosen.
* * *
It was on a particularly gloomy evening in mid-September, when the wind was picking up outside that Doc chose to turn-in early and wait for sleep to overtake his growing depression. He had used sleep lately to sooth his sense of loss until the brighter, more hospitable mornings.
At first, he thought it was just the wind waking him, sounding as if his name was called. Then it came again louder and stronger. Definitely the timbre of a female voice . . .
"Doc? . . . Are you there? Can you hear me?"
There came a loud gust of wind in the trees outside and Doc began to doubt that it could have been Maera's voice.
"Doc?"
Again, a faint trace of her presence. Struggling to throw on a pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he passed out of his door and stood—listening, trying to filter out the strong breeze from any other sounds.
"Come with me . . ." he distinctly heard, just beyond the trees. It emanated from the trail that wound down to the sea.
Moving barefoot and quickly along the pathway in the dark, he had the sensation that Maera was just in front of him. It was her scent that he detected, as well. Something like a rare aroma which he had perceived when they were close and intimate. This ineffable feeling of closeness lured him onward, half-stumbling down to the water's edge.
Suddenly, there in the gentle waves, just offshore, and somewhat illuminated by the dim starlit sky, he could see Maera's light-colored hair, marking her presence in the inky sea.
"I have missed you, Doc," her voice clearly affirmed, carried across to the cove's edge, almost musically.
Doc stood, his bare feet now entering the water. He was too afraid to speak, fearing he might wake from a dream or confirm the skewed illusion that was proposed to him by the invaders.
He could see Maera's delicate arms raised now above her head, signalling her location in the sea.
"Come, Doc . . . I know you have missed me, too. Come and kiss me . . . in my world."
There was that familiar trepidation he had felt about joining Maera in her element. But he had always defeated it with his trust in her—and his love. But now it was night. The sea looked peaceful, but mysterious and foreboding. There was no hint of its azure moods, it's turquoise and white crystal tones. Only now a canvas of black, with the beautiful Maera at its center, coaxing him to join her.
As he stepped forward and the sea water moved up his legs to his waist, Doc's mind was awash with thoughts and images. He began to think—Was this after all to be his fate? A final act put in motion by his choosing to live alone on Kalamos? Or was stepping into the sea to meet Maera again destined to remove his grief and despair?
Doc was now up to his chest in the water, Maera now only a few meters from him. Had she always or ever been real? He kept asking himself this most perplexing question which had preoccupied his very soul each day and night since he had met her. Haunting him still as he felt the cold sea soak through his clothing was the nagging notion of self-deception, and the uncertainly of a disabled mind.
Maera had moved ever closer to the edge of the cove. He could see her more clearly now. Her lovely features, her smiling face.
"Don't you want to kiss me Doc? To feel me close to you?"
The gentle sound of the little waves lapping the shore, now behind him, seemed to cease. All Doc could hear was his own pulse, pounding in his body as he entered the cove totally to swim to her. When he reached Maera, her childish laughter filled his ears. Her loving countenance encouraged him with her innocent smile at his presence.
"Oh, Doc. You have come for me! Let us kiss under the waves. As you have done with me before."
Not daring now to hesitate, or think rationally any longer, Doc took a long breath and surfaced-dived to meet Maera below the surface. It was dark, save for an eerie glow when she neared him.
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He felt her soft arms surround his neck and shoulders, her dress against his clothing. Then there came the even softer lips, which met his, slowly, with no effort to free him back to the surface.
Doc chose not to struggle. He did not want this final kiss to end.
As he felt his body weaken and the light become brighter, a sense of inner peace enveloped him. It was a feeling far more wonderful than any he had shared with Maera before. He knew he would not return. For the Nymph had finally captured him.
