Read Brine for Free Online Page B

He opened the lid.
    “Whoa— wow —yes, that’s the smell,” he said, pulling his nose quickly away and sealing the jar. “What is that stuff?”
    “No idea,” she said. “It’s probably like nutritional yeast or something.”
    “Smells like fish food.”
    She shrugged. “Tastes good.”
    “Looks like fish food.”
    “Well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man ,” she said. She smirked and stuffed another bite in her mouth, watching him, knowing she was pressing his buttons.
    “That’s not fair. You can’t quote The Big Lebowski at a time like this.”
    “A time like what?” she asked. She chewed the last of her mouthful and then swallowed. She smelled the bag again, knowing her blasé attitude would arouse his annoyance. “You know, I really don’t think this stuff smells bad.”
    He started to speak, but then stopped himself, instead forcing a smile. She could see him formulating his argument, choosing his words carefully. He reached out his hands and stopped her from taking another bite.
    “Look, Ish, when your dad told you that your mother swam off into the sunset and you believed him—well, it’s sweet. But I’m not sure that means your mom—”
    She pulled her arms away. “Sweet?”
    “Yes. Extremely. But don’t you think you’re being a bit childish? You’ve got to understand that—”
    “No, YOU understand!” she said. “What the—how can you not trust me? Of all people, I thought you would believe me!”
    He glanced around for an explanation. “What just happened here?”
    “You certainly smoked enough pot and licked enough LSD in your day to expand that mind of yours! I thought you actually might be the one person open to a new possibility! And you were a priest for goodness’ sake! I’m confessing ! Just believe me!”
    “Please keep your voice down.”
    “Screw you! I will not keep my voice down! You believe in immaculate conception but you won’t believe that my mom might be a mermaid?”
    “I’m not a priest anymore. Listen, I’m not trying to make you mad. I’m trying to be your friend.”
    “My friend? This is friends ?” She pointed to the two of them. “Ish, you know you’ve always been one to mix fantasy and truth.” She was silent, boiling.
    “You blend them together—that’s what makes you so creative. That’s what makes you such an amazing painter.”
    “I’m not painting. This is real. It’s happening.”
    She waited for him to say something. Anything.
    “What?” she asked in his silence. “El Padre’s caught off guard because he’s so at one with the ocean and yet he’s never seen a mermaid out in the line-up?”
    She knew she’d really pissed him off now. He hated it when she made fun of his nickname.
    “Fine.” He stared at her. “You’re welcome to prove it to me.” She pretended to be unruffled. “Fine. I’m not exactly sure how, but—”
    “Ishmael Morgan, if there is any truth to what you’re saying, then I’m going to have to see it with my own eyes.”
    Diane snapped her phone shut in the doorway.
    “Truth to what?”
    She sashayed into the kitchen and started directing Allen.
    “Not too much, darling,” Diane said, pointing toward the plates. “I’ve got to keep this girlish figure.”
    Diane snagged a slice of bacon and took a bite as she looked furtively over at Ishmael.
    “Truth to what?” she asked again as she opened the fridge and retrieved the orange juice. “Who wants juice?” she asked, already filling three glasses on the counter.
    Diane frowned and held up a hand like she was going to sneeze. “Damn ! What’s that smell?” She eyed the container from her purse on the counter. “Ho-lee —sugar-pie, did you put that on your corn chips?”
    Diane held the bottle up to Ishmael.
    “Darling, that’s fish food! You know, for the little critters that swim around in a glass bowl with water in it?” Diane squared both fists on her hips. “I was going to stop by the office and sprinkle some in the