Coral Castles

Her curled dark hair swayed in the wind as she walked forward, full of intent and expectations. She was still wrestling with the answer to the question that plagued her most, whether the lifestyle chose her or she chose it. Growing up, she was given the gift of choosing her own path, and did exactly that. Her parents were wealthy, but she hated to be the girl that always got what she wanted whenever she wanted it. At the age of 22, she decided to give it all up to live the life of a gypsy.

Her vibrantly colorful dress, beaming orange radiance at the top swirled into a swamp green in the middle that faded into a loud yellow. Leaving everything behind was an empowering move in an otherwise standard existence. Yes, she had enjoyed caviar in the finest of banquet halls, and yes, she had felt the way that a rare pair of Jimmy Choo’s hugged her ankles, but was left feeling empty. Knowing that a huge part of herself was inexplicably, she immersed herself in the very idea of travel.

Daydreams of hot beaches and damp suburbs consumed her for an entire year before she had finally vocalized her intentions. Needless to say, her parents were disgusted at apparent disrespect of the life they had given her. It brought her mother to tears and left her father storming off in anger. She thought about them often and wondered if they did the same for her. Pride was the only thing keeping each of them apart, and neither of them wanted to flinch first. It had been a long twelve years since that day, and it seemed to dominate her thoughts more and more as she aged.

For whatever reason, maybe the subconscious satisfaction of knowing that mattered more than she ever thought she did, she was consistently ushered back to the times that she bonded with her dad. It was a rare enough occurrence for them to do something as simple as watch a movie together, let alone a trip Sea World when she was eight years old. It was the only big thing that they did together as she grew up, which is probably what made it stand out more.

Her dad was always clean shaven as his job at a law firm required it. The slightest amount of stubble could have resulted in his immediate termination and he never even sniffed risking it. Growing up, she was always infatuated with seahorses. Her dad took notice of this fairly early on in her life and decorated her room to look like an aquarium. He hired a professional painter to bring it to the surface, coloring the walls ocean blue. Pink and purple seahorses floated on all four walls and the base boards featured green coral as a border.

She had never forgotten the talk that she had with him before entering the seahorse exhibit. As tears filled her eyes because she dropped her vanilla ice cream cone, her father knelt down on one knee in front of her. Placing his hand on his shoulder, he looked her at his daughter in her brown eyes.

“Tiffany, look at me. Stop crying. Here,” he said as he handed her his handkerchief out of the front pocket of his grey suit. “We don’t cry when things don’t go our way in this family, you are better than this. Do you hear me?”

She shook her head yes.

“Do you know where we’re about to go? You’ve been waiting all your life for this! Are you excited?”

Again, she shook her head yes.

As they stepped through the doors, a look of pure amazement was written with bold letters across all of her facial features. Her smile shined as bright as the golden seahorses that swam all around her. She could see a lot of herself in the animal that she adored most, and knew more about them than anybody she had ever known.

Tugging on her father’s sleeve, she excitedly informed him that seahorses eat constantly.

“Dad, they eat all the time! Like, even more than you do!”

Her dad giggled with her, knowing that her comment meant no harm in regards to his stocky frame. “Dad, did you know that seahorses aren’t good swimmers? Their favorite thing in the whole world is to just stay in one spot for days.”

“Like me?”

She looked up to him and laughed before running over to a baby seahorse that seemed like it was showing off just for her.

“This one looks just like the one in my room!” The purple seahorse danced and juked about the tank as she stared on in absolute bliss.

Why this day had kept creeping into her mind was beginning to frustrate her. She arrived at her best friend Martha’s front porch and took a seat on the wooden swing. Martha was on her way home from work and never gave the impression that Tiffany was a burden. While friendships were hard to maintain with a nomadic lifestyle, she ensured that all of the bonds that she formed would be meaningful. She believed that everybody had a purpose, and it was her responsibility to not only discover it, but to encourage it. In fact, this was something that made living as a gypsy so appealing. Believing that we all played a role in each other’s lives,  and waving goodbye once it was fully realized, was her fuel.

The warm spring sun shined down on her, making her believe for a split second that she was mother natures darling. Laughing to herself, she watched as a black, rusted up pickup truck pulled to the white house across the street. In the bed of the truck rested an antique book shelf. She rose up and started to walk down the steps as the driver got out of the truck.

“I love this book case, it’s beautiful. Did you have it restored?”

The bearded driver, who wore a backwards black baseball cap, was taken back at the social bravery that Tiffany was currently displaying.

“No, no. My grandfather – he had this for most of his life. He just passed away last weekend.”

“Oh my word, I’m sorry to hear that. Was he a good man?”

Puzzled by the line of questioning, he gathered his thoughts to respond, but was cut off before the first word could leave his tongue.

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Tiffany and I’m a seahorse. Shit, let me try that again. My name is Tiffany and I’m a gypsy. Who kind of wishes that she was a seahorse.”

The driver stared back at her, “Okay…. well, my name is Sean and I wish I was a bear.”

“A bear? You don’t look like you want to be a bear. You look like you want to be a bird. You want to fly away and get away from it all. Why don’t you spread your wings?”

“Probably because I don’t have wings.”

“Yes you do! You just can’t see them!”

The rumbling of an engine vibrated the road that they stood on as they watched another pickup truck come down the street, this one being red.

“There’s my friend Pat. He’s gonna help me get this inside. Where do you live?”

“Wherever I want to. I’ll be visiting with my friend Martha if you want to see me later,” she said, pointed at her friends home. Seahorses don’t bite, come say hi.”

He nodded his head and walked to greet his helper as she turned around and walked back to the porch. Martha strolled down the sidewalk a few moments later, her short blonde hair being unaffected by the mild breeze. Tiffany walked down the steps and walked to meet her half way.

“Who’s the guy with the truck and why have we never met him before?”

“I have met him before. He’s the sweetest, isn’t he?”

“We only talked for a few minutes, but yeah, he’s nice.”

As Martha rambled on about her work day, Tiffany couldn’t resist the urge to walk back over to the two men attempting to move the cherry wood book case, leaving her friend behind.

“Hey, me again. Hi. Do you have any books?”

Pat turned to his friend, “Scott, who is this lady?”

“Her name is Tiffany and she’s a seahorse.”

“Want to be a seahorse,” she interjected.

“Her name is Tiffany and she wants to be a seahorse. This is Pat and he wants to be a human, I think.”

A coy smirk accompanied by a tilt of her head spoke chapters regarding how she felt hearing that.

“Is that true Pat? You’re fine being a human being?”

“Yeah, I’d say so. I don’t think I’d be want to be anything else, really.”

Her cell phone vibrated from the inside of her bra where she placed it early that afternoon. Her call ID read that the call was from her hometown of Destin, Florida. She stepped away from the two gentleman to take the call, sitting on the grass in front of Martha’s home.

“Hello, is this Tiffany Tulliver?”

“It is, what is this in regards to?”

“Ms. Tulliver, my name is Byron Phillips and I have worked with your father for fifteen years. I have some disheartening news. Your father passed away last night from a heart attack. I’m very sorry for your loss, but your mother insisted that we find you to inform you of the inheritance that he left for you.”

Her heart sank to her stomach and she didn’t know whether this was an act of love or her fathers final act of defiance towards her life choices.

“Is my mother there with you?”

“She is, would you like to talk to her?”

“No. Tell her I’m sorry for all of it, but I can’t accept this.”

“Please, Ms. Tulliver, just talk to her. She wants to fix things before it’s too late. She doesn’t want to end up like your father.”

She thought about what she would say in return, and placed the phone on her lap as she collected her thoughts. She picked the phone back up and placed it to her ear.

“Put her on.”