by Elisabeth Thomas

The light was beginning to turn to the thin, silky gray of morning. Letting out a puff of silver breath, Masaccio sighed, and looked down on the sea. The hint of light made it seem even darker here, surrounded by too much water. Under the shuddering of the sail, he could hear the first sounds of a world coming to light. It was cold, so cold. On the horizon, he could see the gray sky fading to green, fading to lavender, fading to the first touches of pink. If he turned his head, he would see the trees screaming black and skeletal against the light. It would not get sunny today.

He let out the net.

"Strange light today," Davide said.

Masaccio turned and saw Davide looking out at the sea, his arms crossed over his chest. The fishing boat rocked in the breeze. Masaccio thought he was dreaming.

"How long do you think before we pull in enough?" Davide asked.

Masaccio shrugged. "Not too long."

"Natalia says she wants me home early today. Says she misses me." Davide shook his head. "Women, huh? The greatest of God's mysteries. When you're there, they're cold as these fish, and when you're gone, they miss you."

Masaccio laughed, then turned back to his work. He thought to himself, I love being on the sea more than anything in the world. He looked to the sky, and he looked to the sea, and he turned and looked at the harbor behind him. He saw the shadows of men loading and unloading boats against the light of the rising sun. They were only dark shapes, lacking any features or detail.

I'm getting old, he thought.

Davide chuckled and said, "Sure am glad I have her, though." He raised his eyes to the dark clouds, and called out, "Lord, why are they so beautiful, and why don't I under -stand ?"

Masaccio pulled in the net, shaking his head in sympathy as he released the fish into the bottom of the boat.

Davide leaned over, and nodded approvingly. "Nice catch."

The fish looked like rainbows against the deep, wet brown of the boat. Hundreds, thousands, millions of mouths opening and closing, eyes shifting, tails moving back and forth slower and slower and slower. Masaccio thought for a moment: All I see is blue, blue, blue, blue, forever. He felt himself shaking from the inside. He felt himself coughing, reaching his arms into the slick air, upwards, outwards, feeling lost inside his clothing.

I'm so tired, he thought, so tired.

"You all right?" he heard Davide say, but he could not see him.

"Look up," the fish said.   "Look up."

The sky was flat, and the color of a dull knife. It was like looking at nothing at all.

"Hello," said the fish.

* * *

Masaccio could feel Mona staring at him from across the table, barely glancing at her food before she put it in her mouth. He cleared his throat and chewed on a mouthful of beef, trying to pretend he didn't notice. He was used to playing these games.

"Davide came over here earlier today," she finally said.

Masaccio looked up, then turned back to his plate. "That's nice."

She had stopped eating. "He said you were acting strange when you were fishing today."

Masaccio shrugged, and quickly took a few more bites of the beef.

Sighing, Mona put down her fork and leaned her elbows on the table, putting her head on her hands. "Masaccio."

He looked at her. Her face was round and yellow in the light, an autumn moon balanced impossibly on fists. Her eyes were polished and dark. "Davide thinks something is wrong."

He looked down again.

"But I can't imagine what. Nothing has changed, has it? Are you all right, Masaccio? Masaccio, what's wrong?"

Outside the house, he could hear the first chirps of crickets in the dark.

She turned her face to her palms. "Masaccio, Masaccio, Masaccio."

* * *

"I think my brother is here."

Mona turned to him, but he couldn't see her face in the dark of the bedroom. "What brother? You don't have a brother."

"I did."

He can imagine her eyes shifting from side to side for help. "When? I know your mother; she didn't have any children after you. Did she? No, she couldn't."

"I had a twin."

The sheets ruffled around her like the feathers of bird as she turned to face him completely. "I didn't know that."

"I didn't know him. He was dead before he was born."

She lowered her lashes. "Oh."

The darkness was made of shapes, layers on layers of black. The silence hummed against his eardrums and pulsed with the sound of waiting. He turned and drew his arms around her, feeling his bones move for what felt like the first time.

She nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder, like an animal, like a dog or a lazy cat. Moving his arms over her skin, he breathed in, and he could smell her -- warm and wet, a knot in the darkness.

"I'm so tired," she murmured.

Soon, she was asleep.

* * *

"Hello," said the fish.

Masaccio turned to the voice. He could see the pot that he had hidden next to the stove, but not the fish. He heard the faint swish of moving water.

"Where are you?" said the fish.

He walked over to the pot and looked inside. Even without any light, the fish seemed to glitter and scintillate. "Hello," Masaccio said.

"Why are you up so late?" the fish asked.

Masaccio looked to the bedroom door, then shrugged. "Mona is asleep. And I'm not sleepy."

"Ah."

It turned, back, forward, drawing circles in the iron pot. The sound was thick and bubbling in the silent air.

"Are you really my brother?" Masaccio asked.

The fish seemed to wink with its flat, clear eyes. "Masaccio, I think you're making things up again. Where did you get such an idea?"

Masaccio sighed, and started walking to the door.

"Where are you going?" asked the fish.

Masaccio turned back, and shrugged. "Nowhere."

"All right."

The fish turned in the pot, running circles around itself, and rose out of the water. It hovered in the air like an overgrown insect.

Masaccio could hear Mona breathing deeply in the other room.

The fish shook in the air, like a dog in from the rain. Falling droplets thumped on the wood. It flexed its spine, its fins shivered, it opened its mouth, closed its mouth, and swam to Masaccio's head.

Masaccio walked out the door, and the fish followed.

* * *

"If you follow this road for long enough, you get to Rome."

Masaccio nodded.

"It could lead to so many places before that, though."

"Why are you following me?" Masaccio asked.

"I like adventure," the fish said.

Masaccio could sense it turn a somersault in the air. He couldn't see anything on the road; it was a black night. He felt with his feet.

"Though this isn't very exciting," the fish said.

Masaccio could smell the air coming off the sea. This close to the water, walking was like swimming and people were like fish, breathing sideways. Every breath was thick with salt.

"Ah," the fish said, as the road curled under their feet. "We're not going to Rome."

Moments passed in silence, folding into what seemed like hours. The fish turned and dipped in the air, its scales moving with a metallic hush.

"Will we be there soon?" the fish asked, in his ear. "I would like to know if --"

"Shh," Masaccio said. He reached out and felt the smooth brick of her house.

"Ah," the fish said. "Well, then."

Masaccio pressed along the wall until he felt the dip of the window. The fish spun around his head like a moving halo. Folding his knees inwards, he breathed in deeply and slumped beneath the windowpane.

The fish darted above his head and looked inside. "Oh, look," it said. "A woman."

Masaccio closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to be dead. He couldn't think of a darkness deeper than this, or one that wasn't always shifting and mutating.

"She's waiting," said the fish. "She's wa-a-aiting."

Masaccio opened his eyes and looked upward. He saw the fish, cut out like a sliver of white sunlight.

"Only two of the lamps are lit. It looks like she's glowing."

"I'm so tired," whispered Masaccio.

The fish looked down at him with those strange, nothing-colored eyes, smooth as disks. "This is boring," the fish said. "I want an adventure."

"Are you my brother?" asked Masaccio.

"Lies, lies, lies," it said.

The fish looked in the window. "She's starting to think you won't come. She's disappointed. She's not moving, but she's almost quaking with jealousy.

"What are you doing out here? Masaccio, what's wrong with you?"

Masaccio thought: Nothing, really.

"This wasn't an adventure at all. I expected more of you."

Masaccio sighed.

"So, where do you want to go now?" asked the fish.

In a few hours, it would be morning. The horizon would bloom, touched by puffs of pink and thin fingers the color of jade. Looking upwards, from the bottom, it would look like gray silk netted in white light.

"I want to know what it's like under the sea," Masaccio said.

The fish opened its mouth, then closed it. "Ah. Ah, ah, ah."

It turned a slow arc in the air. "It's like this, mostly," it said -- hanging in the air like a puppet, white belly strained upwards -- "except less like drowning."

It drifted forward down the path, lighting the way.

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