Chapter Six: David

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David Kotohiki's office was bright and clean. Sterile would have been the best descriptor for it. Like the reception, it was dotted with carefully placed plastic plants in hanging baskets or on the opulent wooden desk. Windows backlit to imitate a clear, sunny day were in abundance, the light glimmering off the polished tiled floor and amplifying the airy and bright space. It was a place designed to make whomever entered feel small - with the exception of David, of course - and it was certainly working its magic on Helen as she stood in the doorway, all too aware of her less than perfectly styled hair and her threadbare shirt.

David was sitting at his desk that had been very carefully placed right by the windows, making an intimidating silhouette. Did he realize he looked like a villain from a cheap TV show?

"Ms. Newman, you wanted to see me, correct?"

She sat, her skin prickling at his tone. She had initially liked David's ruthless professionalism, but nothing would make her forget how he had looked at Craig from his viewing box. "Yes sir. I have a few questions about Craig."

"Yes, it was a shame the flooding technique didn't work," he said as he stapled a ream of papers together.

"Well...with all due respect, sir, what did you expect? You can't fling a fledgling off a cliff and expect it to fly."

David stopped shuffling and turned in his chair, resting his elbow on the huge desk. He eyed her with a piercing stare from eyes so deep brown there was almost a danger of falling right in them. "Craig is not a child. A far cry from a fledgling. I hate to be blunt but our hands have been tied. Top brass are threatening to cut our funding unless we can prove Craig is capable of ocean diving. We're on a very tenuous deadline with him, else he'll be transferred or worse, cut up for research."

Helen stopped herself. The heavy hand of bureaucracy slapped her hard on the shoulders with a gutting realization. "They want him for espionage or something?"

"They won't say. We had to beg to employ a therapist as a last ditch effort for him to get over his fear. As such, we're on a rather tight schedule."

"How long?" Helen asked.

"Six months. If Craig can't dive beyond two meters by then, we've signed his death warrant."

Helen thought hard, her mind finally catching up with the situation at hand. Everything would always come back to money, to profit and the bottom line. "Six months is a big ask." She leaned back in her chair. "It's not just a case of flipping a switch and he'll be able to dive no problem. I feel horribly emotionally blackmailed here, but I like Craig; I want to see him succeed."

"Good. As do we. So, what do you want to know?"

"Whatever you have. This is my first merman case, after all."

Her humor fell flat as David failed to respond - miserable bastard that he was - and retrieved a huge manilla file that he dumped on his grand desk before her. "That's a decade's worth of everything we know about Craig."

*****

Helen sat at one of the tables in the meeting room, the coffee beside her long since cold and developed its own skin in its sedentary state. Craig fortunately, was nowhere to be found, possibly training in the pool or resting.

It truly was a fascinating read. There were sketches, photos, medical reports: Craig's entire life in one rather bulky file. In a way it was almost embarassing, to have one's life laid out so blatantly for people to read at their leisure. Considering Craig's rather unique circumstances, it was hardly surprising.

Discovered at around the age of ten, he had almost drowned in a fisherman's net off the coast of California. After a lengthy recovery, it was discovered that he could not only understand English, but was completely fluent in it and nothing else. DNA tests came back inconclusive despite mention of a father, the working hypothesis was a human father who had sheltered Craig in his formative years.

His comment about his dad being a deadbeat picked at Helen's brain as she leafed through the reams of paper. What had caused that kind of hostile retort? Abandonment seemed the most likely option, the biggest question that came from that thread would be what circumstances led to Craig being abandoned. Helen chewed on her pen as she perused the files.

"You look busy."

Helen almost jumped out of her chair as Craig's familiar voice echoed from behind her. His head was still wet and the drips clung to his ears, his grin was stretched between them in the way that it usually did. She sighed and turned back to the file. "I am."

"So what are you doing in here? You know I'd turn up sooner or later to annoy you."

"Because this place was the quietest. Or it was, at least." Helen closed the file and stood, unable to stop watching that supple, powerful tail swishing back and forth. Orcas and even dolphins had been known to incapacitate its prey with a powerful flick of its tail, there was no doubt in her mind Craig would be capable of something very similar.

"Admit it, you just wanted to ensure you'd run into me. It's the hair isn't it? Or maybe the eyes." The glistening seafoam color winked at her, earning him only an eye roll in return.

"If you must know, Craig, it's the underlying issues that have led you to be incapable of diving beyond a certain depth."

"I already told you, didn't I? I'll nail it soon enough. Just, jitters or something last time, I dunno."

She approached his tank, his eyes never leaving hers. Still that punchable grin was plastered right on his lips, but it seemed softer, less sure of itself. His mask was thin, liable to cracking at the slightest provocation. "It's not a race, Craig, it's about you being comfortable enough to do it." She looked at him pointedly. "That includes not feeling the pressure to do it from others either."

"What are you even talking about?" he said, the anger in his voice rising. "I don't give a crap about what people think of me, even if I can't walk around or sit at a table for my lunch. What does it even matter anyway?"

There it was. The raw, hollow bitterness leaping to the surface in his unguarded hostility. Recognition that he was different, abnormal, unable to do the things he saw people doing around him everyday. Helen looked at him, the anger still flaring in his eyes but mixing with frustration, sadness, resentfulness. She saw that boy once again.

She went to sit on the shelf beside his tank, letting her legs dangle in beside him.

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