The Fisherman's Chest

The first fairy tale in an ongoing series for the month of April. This story is inspired by the Scottish Selkie, a seal person who can become human and walk on land. The lore goes that a fisherman fell in love with a selkie and stole her skin, binding her to him. They married and in some tales, had children. She stares longingly at the sea, dreaming of returning home. The selkie eventually finds her stolen skin and returns to the sea, leaving her husband and children behind.

The Fisherman’s Chest

Grace Nelson was going to be late to her own anniversary party. 

Sand was licking up the back of her legs as she jogged up the beach to her Shingle Style cottage where her husband would surely be tapping his foot on the deck, watching for her form to come into view. She had not been paying attention to the time which was a habit she had been meaning to break. Something about being near the water made her brain fuzzy and her body imagined floating in the waves instead of knowing she had twenty minutes until their first guests arrived. 

“Did the catering arrive?” she panted as she pulled herself up the stairs. Paul was in fact standing on the deck waiting for her, already dressed in a linen shirt though he was still barefoot. 

“Yeah, Nancy set it all up already. We are all just waiting on you, Mrs. Nelson,” he quipped, giving her a wink. “Every time you go for a walk on the beach I think you’re going to walk right into the ocean and never come back. We’ve got to get you an alarm!” Grace waved him off, smiling brightly. 

“I’ll only be two secs!” She breezed passed him and bounded up the stairs to the second floor bedroom. “Oh, shit,” she cursed as she realized she hadn’t washed off her feet and sand had tracked all through the house. Hopping on one foot, she headed towards their en suite bathroom, slamming her leg into the chest at the foot of the bed. “SHIT!” she cried out in pain.

“Chest again?” Paul hollered from downstairs.

“What the hell is in this thing?!” Grace bent down to rub her shin which was already turning a dark shade of red. “I hate you,” she whispered to the massive chest. At first glance, it was a hideous sight: peeling wood, tarnished copper trimmings, chunks taken out of the lid here and there. Upon closer inspection, one could see it was once beautiful and ornate, with a tiny mermaid carved into the clasp of the lock and shining maple wood buried under years of wear. 

Wincing as she hobbled to the bathroom, she heard Paul come upstairs and into the room. “You okay?” he asked as he opened a few dresser drawers searching for socks. 

“Fine, fine,” Grace replied. She stood in front of their his and her sinks, adjusting her tousled brown hair. It was windblown and curled from the humidity of the late summer air. Mermaid hair, she thought fondly as she grabbed her brush and began to work it through to flatten the curls. “But seriously, what is in there?”

Paul sighed dramatically. “Can’t a man have his secrets? Next thing I know you’ll be searching through my dresser drawers to find your very well hidden anniversary present.” He had come to the bathroom door and leaned through it, grinning mischievously. “Plus you know it’s a family heirloom. From my grandfather’s fishing days. So we aren’t getting rid of it.” 

“Anniversary present, huh? You know with that clue, you’ve ruined the hunt for me.” Grace returned the coy smile. “A dresser drawer is not very original.” Paul rolled his eyes and turned back into the room. “Ready in five!” Grace added.

“Wear the white dress. The one we got in the city.”

“White? Really? Isn’t that a bit too on the nose for an anniversary party? Too, I don’t know, bridal.” Grace wrinkled her nose in the mirror as she continued to fight the curls down. “I was thinking more of the green or the blue with the little white flowers.”

Paul’s voice sounded like it was in the hall when he answered. “White still has my vote! Sue me for wanting my bride to look like my bride at a celebration of us being bound to each other!” He was kidding but Grace felt a twinge of annoyance rise up the back of her neck. Paul had a way of making it seem like he saw her as his young bride and only a young bride. They had been married ten years and overall it had been a happy decade. Grace wanted for nothing; Paul took care of everything for her. They had a wonderful life, wealth, friends, their health. She couldn’t complain and hated herself when she did. The annoyed feeling faded as she rummaged in a drawer for lipstick. 

She shimmied into the emerald green eyelet dress. Grace couldn’t help but flick her eyes towards Paul’s dresser, thinking of her present hidden away. He knew she’d go looking for it; she liked to “treasure hunt” as he called it. It probably wouldn’t be in his dresser, that was too easy. If she had more time, Grace would have taken a peek just in case but she heard a car pull into the driveway and knew she would be summoned downstairs shortly. Like clockwork, Paul called her name a moment later. 

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate with us.” Paul clinked his glass and put his arm around Grace as their thirty guests gathered on the back deck. Candles and tiki torches were flickering in the light breeze coming off the water. Grace felt drunk with the scent though it may have been her third glass of champagne. She studied the faces staring up at them: Paul’s work friends, Paul’s college friends, and Bridget, a woman Grace had befriended here in Sag Harbor. I need to make more friends, Grace mused as her husband pulled her closer. 

“Ten years ago, I saw this woman sitting on the beach and I will never forget that moment. Hair blowing in the wind, no towel, just ass in the hot sand. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.” A collective aw rippled through the crowd. Grace was surprised it was difficult to smile listening to Paul. She barely remembered that day on the beach and always wondered why she didn’t have a towel with her. Where was she going that day he saw her? 

“I watched her like a creep for two days! Her family was staying on the beach and I knew I didn’t have much time to waste. Finally, I got the balls to go up to her and ask her out. Luckily, she said yes to this dork and made me the happiest man alive.” Applause rose up to greet them. Grace continued to hold her smile even as the sides of her mouth began to ache. She recalled Paul coming up behind her, making her jump out of her skin practically, and awkwardly asking her to dinner that night. The majority of her wanted to decline but he was so terrified, shaking as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, she felt badly and said yes. Now ten years later, she stood with his arm wrapped tightly around her in a crowd of familiar faces. “We’ve been bound together ever since,” Paul was saying, finishing up his speech. “Here’s to you, my bride! Thank you for being by my side with little complaint for the past ten years.” The crowd laughed as Paul leaned in and kissed Grace tenderly on the lips. She smiled up at him as he pulled back and raised her glass to join in with everyone else. 

The scent of the sea drifted up to meet her as she made her way back to the bar that was set up on the far side of the deck. Paul was cackling with a few of his work associates and Grace had managed to escape his grasp to have a moment away. The crash of the waves stilled her pounding heart. Panic was not a familiar feeling and now it rose in her throat like a snake preparing to strike. What was happening? Why was she suddenly feeling so trapped?

“Gracie!” Bridget’s voice interrupted her. Her Hampton friend stumbled over to the bar, white wine sloshing in her glass and onto the wooden deck. “My god, what a party. What a life you have. Ugh, can you tell how jealous I am? Honestly, girl, how do you live like this?”

Grace offered a weak smile. “Oh, you know, just day to day. I feel trapped sometimes like everyone else though.” Bridget’s eyes widened. “I mean, you know, it can all still feel so mundane.” 

“Right, right,” Bridget said. “Trapped in your very fancy house, sure, I can relate.” She threw her head back and laughed at her own joke. Grace replied with a polite chuckle. “Your life is perfect, girl, don’t you forget it!” Bridget grabbed the chardonnay and spilled more of it on the ground than in her glass. “If you ever want out, give me a call. I’ll happily replace you!” She sloshed her way back through the crowd. 

Grace sucked in a sharp breath, the ocean air filling her lungs and making her feel dizzy. She caught herself against the bar and gripped it tightly as the waved deafened the noise of the party. They pounded in her ear as if she was underwater instead of on her deck, a short walk away. 

“Paul,” Grace called out into the sea of guests. She saw his head turn towards her. She made a face of disgust indicating she was feeling ill and pointed up. He nodded, smiling gently and excused himself to meet with her as she headed inside.

“Are you alright?”

Grace nodded, waving him off. “Yes, of course. I just need a second. Three glasses is too much for me these days. I’ll be right back.”

Paul narrowed his eyes and raised a brow. “You’re not sneaking off to find that gift are you, my little treasure hunter?” Grace hadn’t even thought of seeking out her present but the reminder brought a spark back into her unfocused mind. She shrugged playfully and slinked away, through the deck door and back up to the bedroom.

Once inside, she clicked the door shut and fell back against it. Her brain was still buzzing from the sea breeze and her skin tingled with the coldness the sunset had summoned. Grace began to walk towards the bathroom, narrowly avoiding the chest this time, when the dresser caught her attention. It couldn’t hurt to take a peek, she wondered. She padded her way over and pulled open the top left drawer. Nothing but socks. She went for the right and there, not very well hidden under a slew of white undershirts, was a small velvet box. 

As Grace pulled the drawer open further, the box tumbled forward and a golden key slid out behind it. Forgetting the box for a moment, Grace picked up the key and lay it flat in her palm. It was old and tarnished, bits of rust up and down the slender body. It had three prongs, varying in size at one end and the other curved up into an anchor. 

It only took a moment of wondering what it was the key to before she knew it was the chest that had lain at the foot of her bed for the past ten years. The chest her husband always jokes about hiding his secrets in and never sharing with her what possessions he was keeping locked away. For years, she had toyed with the lock, trying to pry it open because her curiosity was unquenchable. It had become a playful game to Paul to tease her about what might be inside his fisherman grandfather’s chest; this massive heirloom that had given her more bruises that she could count. Yet for Grace, the playfulness had started to become dull and tiresome. Her curiosity had become frustration much like her life was making her feel trapped. Now she held the key in her hand and she hesitated to place it in the lock. 

Kneeling before the chest Grace took the padlock in her hand. She slid the key gently inside, listening for any footsteps in the hall. The party was still going on downstairs, the voice all distant in their cheerfulness. She turned it once and heard it click. Grace pulled the lock open and placed her palms on the lid. Something pulled as she sat paused with her hands on the top. There was something inside this chest that was calling to her. The waves crashed against the beach, hitting hard like a slap against a piece of wood. She pushed open the lid.

The odor of mildew hit her square in the face and she coughed as dust flew into her nose and mouth. “Ugh,” she muttered as she waved her hand in front of her face. The light poured into the chest which was shockingly empty save for a few items. An old gray sweater that was tattered and stained, a leather notebook and some pens, a few pieces of paper and a fur coat folded neatly. Grace’s attention immediately went to the fur, the hairs rising up between her fingers as she pressed her palm into it. It was bristly, not as soft as it appeared, and a shock of familiarity traveled up her arm. She lifted the fur out of the chest and stood, holding it against her. She had assumed it was a coat and now holding it up, she saw it was a pelt of some kind. It had no real shape to it; no arms or legs so it was difficult to determine what animal it had come from. 

Grace pressed it against her body and moved to the full length mirror in the corner. The skin rested closely against the parts of her skin that were bare and brought a warmth that covered her all over. This is mine, she thought to herself. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was hers but it was with certainty that the thought came to her. It wasn’t her anniversary gift either, it was something that belonged to her that Paul had kept hidden away. 

“He stole it,” she said out loud. The realization slammed into her chest, stalling her breath for a moment. “This was mine and he stole it.” Her memory flashed to the day at the beach, Paul coming up behind her. She didn’t remember it as detailed as he did and now she knew why. She always thought she had pitied him when in fact she had been drawn to him because he had taken this skin from her. He had stolen it and teased her, telling her he would give it back if she went on a date with him. Grace now cursed herself for forgetting how she had failed to see him watching her for days as she laid on the beach. It all came flooding back to her and the feeling of being trapped suddenly made perfect sense. 

“Sweetheart?” Paul called up to her. “If you found that gift, I am going to be impressed. I hid it much better than last time.” She heard his footsteps on the stairs. Panicked, she flung the skin onto the bed and slammed the chest shut, swearing as the sound echoed off the walls. She covered the skin with the comforter as Paul knocked on the door. “Babe? You okay?” He swung it opened just as Grace leapt back in front of the mirroring, pretending to have been straightening her dress. 

“Sorry!” she gasped, attempting to steady her breath. “I spilled something on this dress and had to get out the stain.” She tensed as Paul’s eyes wandered around the room and to her dress. 

“I don’t see any spot,” he stated. Grace feigned surprise.

“I guess I must have gotten it out! How’s the party? Let’s go back.” She quickly met him and took up his arm. “You definitely hid it well. I haven’t a clue where it could be.” Grace hoped her mention of the treasure hunt he seemed to be so fond of would be enough of a distraction that his gaze wouldn’t fall on the wrinkled bed and open lock on the chest lid. 

Paul pretended to dust off his shoulders. “Well, I’ve gotten quite good at it these past ten years. Now come on, you know I get lonely when you’re not near me.” Grace’s lips cracked as she smiled back at him. Her thoughts were whirring as to how to get the skin out from under the comforter and figure out the next step. She was tempted to confront him once their guests left but that seemed futile. He knew what he had taken from her and she knew why she had followed him that day away from the water’s edge and into her life with him. A cheer rose up as they descended back into the party. Grace kept her plastic smile as wide as she could and Paul never let go of her hand. 

Grace sat with her legs drawn up underneath her on the couch, biting her fingernails. The skin still lay underneath the covers on their bed they were surely heading to in a matter of minutes. She was plotting out what to say when Paul came bounding down the stairs in his running gear. 

Grace’s mouth dropped open and she quickly recovered, slamming it shut and hiding her excitement that Paul had just gifted her the time to retrieve the skin without him seeing. 

“Going for a run?” she said as steadily as she could manage.

“Yeah, I am feeling a bit bloated from all that cheese and cake,” he said as he attached his arm band. “You want to come?” Grace shook her head no. “Ah, I figured. You hate running on the sidewalks. Much prefer the sand like a crazy person.”

“You know me too well,” Grace replied. Paul came over to kiss her on the forehead. She tensed at his touch. He didn’t seem to notice.

“One of these days you’re going to run into the ocean and never come back to me.” Grace never realized how often Paul mentioned her running away into the water until now. All of the times flooded her memory and she felt her body grow more rigid. He hardly ever let her go to the beach alone and always seemed panicked when she was late returning from a walk near the water. Paul had said he got sea sick so they never went out on the boat trips their friends invited them to. He avoided the water and teased her at how much she loved it. It always bothered her but never enough to realize there was a pattern hidden underneath it all. He was afraid she would remember she belonged to the sea and not to him.

“Yes, maybe one of these days I will,” she said defiantly. Paul paused, his eyes meeting hers questioningly. He studied her face for a long minute as if waiting for her to admit she knew his secret and opened his chest. Grace kept her face blank, the smile plastered there still. He finally shrugged it off and gave a small wave as he walked out the front door. 

Grace could only imagine the look on Paul’s face when he came back through the door. He wouldn’t notice her gone at first and call her name several times before the panic rose in his throat. Then he would dash through the house, searching every room, and ending out of breath on the back deck. Perhaps he would see the footsteps in the sand from where she had walked to the water’s edge. He may see the trail the skin left behind as Grace wrapped it around her shoulders, dragging it behind her slightly until it fit again. Paul would gasp at the realization. Perhaps in his search he had noticed the golden key was missing from his dresser drawer and cursed himself for leaving it next to the earrings he had bought for her. Maybe he checked the chest and saw it was bare except for his belongings. She had finally taken hers back.

He would search for hours on his own before calling the police and reporting his wife missing. He would express he feared she had drowned and they would start combing the water, their search fruitless. She was too far below to be found at that point. Paul might search for weeks for her, burning a small flame of hope she would return to him. The waves would fold themselves onto the sand, answering him by saying she would never since she knew the truth of what he had done. Nothing in her life had belonged to her; he had made it all for himself including taking what made her what she was. A stolen life she had finally taken back. 

As she got closer to the lapping waves, her legs slowly molded back into one. The sea swallowed her whole and brought her back home where she belonged.