Dark Water's Gift

Alright, in hindsight maybe taking Zoe to the aquarium was a bad idea. She'd been begging to go for ages though, and it was her first official school fieldtrip. What loving mother could say no?

I know what you might be thinking right about now: "It's just an aquarium; big tanks full of water and bored fish. What's the problem with letting her go? Kids love aquariums!" On that last part, we agree. Even before she was born, I gotta admit seeing a bunch of kids at the aquarium with their noses pressed to the glass walls separating them from another world, peering at the strange and wonderful creatures inside with such pure joy and wonder... it kinda gives me the warm fuzzies. I mean, I remember what it was like when I was Zoe's age, and my parents took me to the aquarium for the first time. Zoe isn't like other kids though.

It's kind of hard to explain. After all, she looks like a normal kid; inquisitive eyes, a cute little dimple in her cheek, a smile that would steal your heart, etc. She acts like a normal kid, too, full of energy and reckless abandon that often leaves me torn between wanting to hug her and strangle her.

Sorry, that was intense. Surely though, I'm not the only parent who feels like that, right? Right...?

Don't judge me too harshly, okay? It's tough being a single mom. To tell you the truth... I never wanted to be a parent in the first place. It just sort of... happened. Literally. And not in the way you think. Ugh, maybe I should just start from the beginning.

I was working in Egypt, trying desperately to earn a few more credits toward my Masters in Archaeology. My school mates insisted I was working too hard, so they dragged me to the Red Sea for a little impromptu boat trip. To make a long story short, I fell overboard and I can't swim. I don't honestly remember what happened next. I heard... a voice, I think, calling to me from the bottom of the sea. There was this weird, warm light all around me, and I just remember thinking, "I don't want to die." The next thing I knew, I was waking up on shore again... and nine months later, I had Zoe.

Ever since she was six months old, I could tell she wasn't what one might call "normal". When she got angry, she could make water boil ten feet away from her, even if it wasn't on the stove. She could swim in the bathtub like a dolphin before she could even crawl. The older she got, she discovered she could make pockets of water float around the room like bubbles, which she then delighted in letting splash onto the floor for Mommy to clean up. We had a goldfish at one point that she talked to as soon as she physically could, until she made me take his bowl down to the lake and set him free because "he wasn't happy". I tried explaining that he was just going to get eaten by a bigger fish, but she told me very plainly that he wouldn't. That's the strangest thing about Zoe; she has this... ability, I guess, where she just seems to know things. Things that a six-year-old shouldn't and couldn't possibly know. Sometimes I look into her onyx eyes and I feel like I can see the secrets of the universe within them. Is that weird?

Needless to say, I have been a nervous wreck ever since she started going to school. Zoe seems to know however that she's supposed to keep her abilities hidden so that she won't scare the other kids in her class or freak out her teacher. She's done a good job of it too, but I've seen her slip up more than once. The aquarium was a huge slip. I can't stay mad at her though, because she's just a kid. An incredibly powerful, exceedingly knowledgeable kid, but a kid nonetheless. Everything started out good, which is something. She started out so excited just like the other kids in her class, but after about an hour I could tell something was wrong. She kept looking at the creatures in the tanks with this confused, almost sad look in her eyes. She kept putting her hands on the glass and whispering to the fish, growing more and more distressed as time passed. Eventually she ran over to me and threw her arms around my waist with a whimper. "Mommy," she said, "the fishies don't like it here! We have to let them out!"

Immediately, my heart dropped into my shoes. "Baby, we can't," I tried to explain, "the nice people who run the aquarium would be very sad if we did, because they love their animals. Some of the animals here are very rare in nature, too, and would die if they were let loose."

Zoe raised her head to look me in the face, and her eyes seemed to glow almost. "They have to be free," she whispered, "they don't belong here. We have to let them out!!" At that moment, the great white shark in the tank behind her suddenly began throwing itself against the glass. Huge cracks spiderwebbed along it, leaking water and causing the people closest to it to run away screaming. All the creatures in the tank then began emulating the shark, causing more cracks and more panic. Zoe gripped my skirt tightly with both hands and stared at my navel while the chaos ensued, her eyes half-closed in some kind of trace.

"Zoe, enough," I snapped, giving her a hard shake, "Stop it, Zoe! You're scaring people, and the animals are going to hurt themselves!!" Zoe's eyes widened fully then, and she looked up at me with a jolt. The creatures in the tank immediately stopped, resuming the lazy circles they were swimming in while the aquarium staff rushed around to do damage control.

Tears brimmed in Zoe's eyes, but instead of rolling down her cheeks, they bubbled up into the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, Mommy," she sniffled, "I didn't mean to. It was an accident!"

I held Zoe tight and started petting her straight black hair, shushing to calm her down. "I know, Baby," I sighed, then kissed her olive cheek, "C'mon; let's go get some air."

To leave the aquarium, we had to walk back the way we came through an exhibit of deep-sea creatures. The exhibit was kept dark on purpose, illuminated only by the glowing bioluminescent creatures swimming within the tanks and strips of glow-in-the-dark tape marking the pathway. We stopped to admire a section of tank that passed over our heads in an arch, connecting the two tanks on either side, where a school of jellyfish were dancing playfully. Something in the darkness then caught my eye. It moved like a shadow among the jellyfish, but I was almost certain it was shaped like a man. My initial thought was that maybe it was a diver, checking part of the tank, but I saw no oxygen cylinders or hoses attached to the man's body. It seemed to be luring us to the darkest part of the exhibit, a section of tank that curved around a corner. When we got there, Zoe put her hands on the glass curiously. I hadn't noticed until then that her eyes were glowing brightly just like the fish... and just like the eyes staring back at us through the glass. "Who... What are you?" Zoe asked timidly.

If the man answered verbally, I couldn't hear it. I should have been scared, I realize, but... I wasn't. Whoever or whatever this was, their presence felt familiar, as if I had seen them in a dream. Zoe kept talking to the figure quietly, but her manner was calm and casual as if they were one of her friends from school. After a few minutes, a chill ran down my back when the water around them began to bubble and shimmer with light... a light I remembered well and would never forget. "You..." I mumbled, "You're... Z-Zoe's father...?!"

Zoe looked up at me as if she had forgotten I was there for a minute, then smiled sweetly, "He says his name is Nu... and he thinks you're very pretty."

I won't lie, I kind of freaked out at that. I mean, I knew my kid had magic powers and shit, but until that moment I guess it hadn't fully registered that she wasn't human. Or... partly human, I guess is more correct. Six-and-a-half years of pent-up confusion, anger and anxiety threatened to drown me right then and there just like the Red Sea had tried to. "Y-You," I sputtered, almost too upset to speak, "I never consented to-... N-Never wanted-...! What the hell are you, and why did you do this to me?!"

Again, I couldn't hear him speak, but something in his bearing exuded a deep sadness. Zoe looked from him to me in confusion, "He... He says he saved you. That you made a promise to help him if he helped you. He says... he's grateful, and that he's sorry if you feel hurt."

Any sane person would have thought I had rocks in my head for believing him... but it was hard not to. I might not have been able to hear the tone of his voice, however I could feel in my soul that his words were genuine. He placed a hand on the glass toward me then, blacker than the dark water surrounding it but sparkling like the night sky. Against my better judgement, I touched the glass in the same spot. A voice that I had heard before - deep, melodic and reverberating with ancient power - echoed within my head a moment later: "Thank you, Anna; I am in your debt forever for the gift you have granted me. I shall never forget you, and I shall always be here to protect and guide our daughter." Before I could say anything else, Nu melted into the darkness and was gone once again.

I still don't fully understand everything that happened to me, or how Zoe was conceived. When I got home that afternoon, I did some research on the name Nu, but nothing much came up. I found a few articles about a primordial Egyptian water god of the same name, however it seems not much is known about him. Thinking it over now, it might be better that way. Whether or not I understand completely, I do know two things: Nu saved my life that day in the Red Sea, and my life would not be the same without Zoe in it. For both of those things, I am incredibly grateful.