Finn reeled in his lure again, shaking his head. The shiny piece of bent metal taunted him—time to go home.
His anger got the best of him as he spit his tobacco into the Irish Sea. The waves swallowed up his gesture. The same way it swallowed up all of his bait.
It was truly a sad sight since his friends at the tavern were boasting their best fishing days to date. Hard to beat Conor’s twenty cod in one day, or even Brian’s fifteen-pound bass.
Finn had nothing. Nothing for what felt like a month. And he used to be the best.
He turned his little vessel around and headed back towards the docks. As the boat rocked its way back to shore, and the wood of the siding squeaked in the wind, he debated going back to that tavern. He’d be a laughing stock again tonight if he dared show his face.
“Finn, the only Fisherman who cannot catch a fish,” they’d tease.
But it had been several nights, and he needed a drink. His wife Orla had been acting strange ever since their fight. It was the only true fight they’d ever gotten into, and since then she hadn’t been herself.
She was normally a gentle-natured woman, dark curly hair, sweet loving brown eyes. She was slow to anger. Yet, when she was mad she could be a brute.
Years ago, every man turned their head to see her. And yet she turned and saw him. Out of all the other men at the tavern, she chose him.
Just as well, it seemed like he was the only one who could handle her when she got crazy.
The truth was, though she hid it well, he’d known her wild spirit to come out. And once it was out, she wasn’t easily tamed.
Finn tied off his boat, as the sun began to set over the waves. He stepped off his boat. Bait pail in hand, he sighed.
“Oh well, a pint or two won’t hurt.”
****
Hours later, he was stumbling up to the doorstep of their cottage. His face was hot, his knees almost buckling under himself.
He knocked. Just as always, his reliable wife Orla opened the door. Her face was sullen and her eyes red. His face was just as red as hers.
“You’re drunk again.” She said bitterly.
“Aye.” He tried to smile, and as he did he felt a wet warmth begin to spread between his legs.
“And ye pissed yourself again.” Orla rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a towel.
“Just leave your trousers at the door.” She said as Finn stumbled inside.
****
Finn lay in bed with the pillow over his face. He was disappointed in himself. Letting this happen, right after he promised he wouldn’t do it again.
Orla soon climbed into bed next to him. Her brown hair tied up in a knot atop her head. He took the pillow from his face. He watched her with his sunken blue eyes, while she blew out the candle.
“Look Orla, I didn’t mean to. The boys kept buying me drinks and I couldn’t say no.”
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling.
“You’re havin’ me on, Finn. You haven’t caught fish in weeks. We barely have enough as it is. Something has to change.”
“I know, love. Things will get better.” He said.
He closed his eyes.
“Before you’re off to sleep, Finn, I was wondering, have you seen my coat anywhere?”
“Which coat?” He asked.
“The old one. The fur coat I had when we met. I keep it in a box, in the corner of the dresser.”
“No. I haven’t seen it. Sorry love.”
He rolled over and went to sleep.
****
Finn awoke far later than he meant to. A chill of morning air entered the room. Orla had left the window open. He pulled the blanket up further over his ears and turned toward the dresser.
His eyes shot open as he saw the mess of clothes strung out. The dresser was left wide open and all the garments lay on the floor. She’d tossed the whole closet out. He heard a crashing noise in the kitchen.
Finn rushed into the kitchen to find Orla taking every dish out of the cupboard and opening every drawer. A few dishes lay broken on the floor.
“What’s the meaning of this Orla?”
“I need to find my coat.” She said.
“Do you need it so badly that you’re tearing up the whole house?” He asked.
“Yes, it’s very important to me. If you know where it is, I need you to tell me.”
She knelt on the floor, frantically picking up the broken dishes. He saw her hands shaking.
This was the side of his wife he’d been afraid for. The reason he felt the need to get drunk again last night.
“Let’s sit down and have some breakfast.” He took her hand to the table.
Orla sat for a moment, before picking up the painted shells she was working on, and moved them to the mantle. She’d been making lovely little paintings of different seascapes inside of oyster shells. With the little extra money he would bring home, they would venture to the market square and she would pick out paints and brushes from the local vendor. These things used to make her happy.
Orla sat down again, waiting patiently. He smiled at her and started to whistle as he fried two eggs and boiled coffee for them.
He sat beside her at the small wooden table and handed her a mug. They hadn’t much for breakfast, so it was just coffee and eggs this morning.
“Is this about the fight?” He asked.
“Do you really want to bring that up again? I’m simply looking for my fur coat.”
“Orla, my darling. It’s just a coat. You haven’t worn it in years. It didn’t suit you much anyway.”
“Finn. I need my coat.” She said persistently.
“Maybe we sold it.” He suggested calmly.
Orla slapped Finn across the face. He put a hand up where it stung, as he stared into his wife’s raging eyes.
“Why in the bloody hell would you ever think to sell it? You’re a fool! A damn fool is what you are! It’s not yours to just sell! It’s mine! It’s all I have!”
She gripped the handle of her ceramic mug as if she was about to throw it.
She was hysterical.
Finn stood up. “Now, don’t ye talk to me that way Orla. I may have me problems, but I’m still your husband.”
Orla got quiet and took another sip of her coffee.
“No, I didn’t sell it. I’m sorry for suggesting it. I may have sold my good watch, and a few rings to make ends meet, but I know how much your coat means to you. I couldn’t sell that. I’m sure it just got lost.”
“Maybe I’ve misplaced it.” Orla admitted.
She put a hand on her head. “If you remember where it might be, please let me know.”
“I will, love. I don’t want to fight about all these trivial things anymore. I’m heading to the docks. Be home this evening and we’ll clear it all up, okay?”
He kissed her on the forehead. Finn couldn’t wait to get out on the boat and clear his head. And maybe today, if he was lucky he would catch at least one fish.
****
Finn arrived later that evening, with three fish. Three was enough to keep him hoping. He rushed into the door, hoping to see his happy wife, but instead, everything had been moved about. Feathers from their couch were scattered all across the floor.
Orla was back in the kitchen again, pacing the room.
“Where is it?” She asked.
“I know you know where it is. You must know.”
Finn put the bucket of fish down by the back door.
“Darling, I really don’t know where it is. We can buy you a new one.”
“You know where it is!” She threw the cup at him. It smashed against the wall behind him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Finn said.
“You’re hiding it from me!” She screamed as tears rushed down her face.
“Just tell me where it is. Please.” She put her head in her hands and sat at the table, looking disheveled and defeated.
“Orla, you need to calm down. I’ll check the attic tomorrow, but perhaps it’s just lost.”
He grabbed the bucket in his right hand and rushed out of the back door.
He felt her eyes on his back as he walked behind the shed to skin the fish.
As he held the blade, making cuts of meat for their meal, he turned around to see his wife watching him. For the first time in their marriage, he was actually becoming a bit frightened.
The next few days she went room by room turning over everything. Every table overturned, cups and dishes smashed to the floor. Every drawer emptied. His wife had gone absolutely mad.
After her outbursts, Orla would return to their room, sit on the edge of the bed with the window open, and listen to the sea air blow into their room. Outside their window were the grassy cliffs and just below them were the crashing waves of the sea. He often caught her looking down at him from their cliff, while he was on his boat.
For now, the sound of the waves and the breeze seemed to calm her mind, enough for him to talk to her.
He put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry it’s gone.”
“It’s somewhere.” She said with a strange gulp. Her skin was sweaty and pale. Her heavy brows now darkened all of her expressions, where her smile used to light up on her face. Even the brown of her eyes grew darker each day. He couldn’t handle seeing her this way.
“Would you please think about goin’ with me to the doctor tomorrow? You’re unwell.”
Her brown eyes drove into him with a paranoid quickness.
“I’m not unwell.” She snapped, “I just need my coat.”
Finn backed away towards the door.
“I’ll find the coat, love.” He stifled his fear with a smile and closed the door.
****
He took the shovel into the dirt and carefully dug it up again. Beautiful, but rather ordinary silky fur coat. Strange, what magical spell must have been over it? No amount of rain or dirt left a mark. No rot.
He looked up towards the house. He saw the candle in the window. She’d woken up. It didn’t matter. She’d never find it, if he didn’t want her to. He just wanted to make sure it was still here. Safe.
He returned to bed. She didn’t say a word.
“Where were you last night?” She asked him over coffee the next morning.
“Just getting grubs for today’s fishing trip. This dry spell of mine is finally over.” He smiled, as he dropped his mug into the wash bucket.
Orla opened her mouth to say something else.
“Love you, darling. See you tonight.” He interrupted.
He kissed her on the forehead once more. Then he walked down the stone path towards the docks.
On his way down the stone and gravel paths, he thought back to Orla and how sad and paranoid she’d become. Of course, it pained him to do such a thing, but she would never understand why he took it away and hid it. It was the only thing he could think to do.
Ten years ago, he was a young attractive man. So much energy, working long hours on large fishing boats during the day and having jolly nights with his friends. He was a handsome ruddy haired man, and he was on top of the world.
And then that one night, a beautiful woman came by the tavern and sat with him. A young Irish girl, from out of town. She said she was a poor Irish orphan, traveling until she found a proper home, and he was inclined to believe her.
Until, he had gone out after the tavern closed, to fix a bit of snagged line on one of the fishing boats.
On his way back, he saw her in the moonlight, sneaking down to the water. She looked around and then donned that silken coat. It slipped onto her like skin and covered her whole body. Changing her. It scared the life out of him, but he watched. She became like a creature, and she slid into the water almost silent. But he knew it was her. It had to be. He saw her with that coat around her arms all night.
Finn had read the legends. He knew that once a selkie chose a human husband she would put away her skin for good.
And now she wanted it back.
Finn cast the fishing line into the water, a grub dangling from the hook.
It was clear she was trying to leave him.
Couldn’t be any clearer than the blue sky on the water today.
He needed to do something to get her mind off of it. Something to make her love him again.
He’d tried to stop drinking. But he was not the lovely handsome man he once was. He was balding, and he knew these few fish he was catching barely could convince her to stay. He was broke and broken and worthless.
Finn reeled in his line. Maybe flowers would cheer her up.
On his way home, he wandered to the field where the dairy cows grazed, and picked the prettiest yellow flowers for his wife. She’d always forgiven him before.
And this time, he promised to change. To be a better man. He really would.
He arrived at the house, but Orla was nowhere in sight.
He checked the bedroom, living room, and the kitchen. She was nowhere.
Finally, he opened the door to the back. Hundreds of holes littered the yard and Orla was lying on the ground, the shovel at her side.
He dropped the yellow flowers and ran to his wife.
She lay there asleep, but breathing. She must have gotten so exhausted from digging.
She’d seen him with the shovel last night.
Finn held her hand to his chest.
“Orla. My love. Please wake up.”
She opened her eyes a little, looked in his direction, and then closed them again.
He lifted her into the house and laid her down in the bed.
He brought a cool rag in and a glass of water.
“I’m so sorry, Orla.” He placed the rag on her forehead and sat next to her. He held her hand, and she squeezed his fingers, though she did not open her eyes.
Seeing her so desperate, he knew what he needed to do.
It was almost midnight when she finally awoke.
“Finn.” She breathed in slowly.
Finn was beside her, as she sat up. The candle dimmed beside their bed, casting yellow light on his sullen face.
“I’ve hurt you. I know that now.” He said. “I’m sorry my love.”
Orla looked at him slowly understanding, her eyes filling with that wild charm he fell in love with. That wild charm that meant she could never be tamed. The true magic of his beloved.
“And if you want to go, I won’t stop you. But just know that I love you and I wanted this to work.”
He stood up, leaving the fur coat on the end of the bed.
****
Finn left the house that night, stringing a hammock out on his boat, and slept under the stars. Knowing that his wife would no longer be in the house. No longer would she paint those lovely oysters. No more flowers and walks in the market. Or to see her smiling and waving from the cliffs. He would spend the rest of his life alone. Wondering what could have been.
Early the next morning he lifted his head from the hammock, remembering he was on the boat. A dark brown seal raised its head from the water and dived down. It was strange to know that it could have been his wife. But now she belonged to no one. And he was truly a fool to think otherwise.
He took a slow walk back to his home. The front door was unlocked, but the house was oddly neat and orderly for the first time in a long time. The bed was made and all of the dishes put away. On the table, was a small painted oyster of their cottage on the cliff, and a note.
Finn,
Thank you for helping me find my lost coat. I needed to get out for a while. I’m going fishing.
See you soon, darling.
Your wife,
Orla
Finn took the note in his hand. Tears welled up in his blue eyes and he smiled as he looked out of the window, towards the cliffs. Towards the sea.
She chose him.
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