Land Legs

danica lorer

Land Legs

She married the merman when he would have fancied a husband. She loved his gurgle-breathing when he removed his land helmet. He watched every tight-butted bearded creature as they passed.

Although his people didn’t record such things as birthdays or save baby teeth for possible later dna matches she was able to secure him a green card and a work visa. He was shocked when she told him everyone worked.

Theirs was a traditional signing of the register at city hall in the presence of her one agreeable sister and one sweaty hall monitor.

They failed the blood test but there was no proof of close-cousinship so they were allowed to approach the table.

They followed with cucumber and peanut butter sandwiches on white bread without crusts on the riverbank where he’d first emerged.

He’d been weak and stinging from the sludge and sewage but she found him. His tail was badly damaged the emergency room doctor told him he’d never swim again. The only solution was to perform surgery. They couldn’t find a donor —sturgeon— but amid fear of rejection they decided on a full lower body transplant. The legs were strong and the organ between thick and disease-free.

He was stitched up enjoyed five months of fame as a medical-journal-article-subject and reluctant consultant in the search for others of his kind through a dragging of rivers and a quick sifting of the Pacific Garbage Patch.