Look, Mother Nature's a mad scientist but she's yet to create a single-gendered species, although there are a few asexual entities out there, such as certain types of plants, and that annoying teacher I had in the eleventh grade. That's why, well, I wish people would stop being surprised when I tell them that I am a Merman. Apparently, in the minds of some idiots ( I'm referring to members of the superhuman community, who really should know better ) you can have Mermaids but not Mermen. As if!
The name is Alastair Hassan, Al to my friends, and I've got a story to share with you. I was born in the City of Miami, Florida, to a Lebanese Christian father, Alexander Hassan, and a Haitian immigrant mother, Catherine Etienne. Thanks to my mother's side of the family, I recently inherited certain unique genetic gifts. Alright, I guess I've had them my whole life, but I only discovered them recently.
What might those gifts be? Oh, they're really something, let me tell you. I can breathe under water, thanks to tiny gills that appear on my neck whenever I come in contact with salt water, and I swim faster than anyone else on the planet. My senses of sight, smell and hearing are exceptionally sharp, far beyond the norm. I am monstrously strong, and I heal quickly from injuries that would kill an ordinary human being. Sounds cool, right?
Anyhow, my parents saw fit to drop this shit on me a week after I graduated from Poseidon High School in Miami. I was eighteen years old, about to go on a trip around the country with my best friend Derek Shore, like we swore we would, and then my parents dropped this freaky bit of news in my lap.
"I'm a Merman? Mom's a Mermaid? What the fuck?" Those were my exact words when my parents dropped this revelation in my lap. We were in the living room of our new house in South Beach. When my Dad yelled at me to come downstairs, I thought he'd discovered my hidden collection of Big Black Butt Magazine titles, but the truth turned out to be much worse.
"Son, we wanted to tell you the truth but you weren't ready for it," said my father, Miami-Dade County Sheriff Alexander Hassan, and I looked at this short, stocky, bronze-skinned and dark-haired man, who raised me from birth, and I honestly hated him in that one instant. All of us hate our parents at some point, however fleeting the moment, I guess.
"How could you guys hide something this huge from me?" I said accusingly, and looked at my mother, and my mom matched my stare. Tall and slender, with dark brown skin and short black hair streaked with gray, Mom is the definition of a no-nonsense woman. Dad and I love her, and we're both terrified of her. Imagine Samuel L. Jackson as a woman, that's my mom, and I say this in a loving, fearfully respectful way.
"Mind your tone, Ali, I won't ask you again," Mom said, and I smiled frostily at her. When my mother, a Yale-educated corporate attorney, takes that tone with someone, she absolutely means business. Typically, Dad and I comply, because it's easier on our ears. I've never been the confrontational type. Seriously, I am the definition of laidback. Not this time.
"Mom, why did you wait so long to tell me that I'm a freak?" I said, shaking my head. As my mother struggled to come up with a reply, I got up and left. My Dad called my name, but I just dashed out of the house, jumped into my bright red Lexus RC Coupe and took off. I needed to clear my head, get some air, you know?
I kept thinking about various incidents in my life, which I dismissed or overlooked at the time, and suddenly, a lot of things made sense. I was the star of the swim team at Poseidon High School, and I had a scholarship to the University of Miami, courtesy of their Men's Diving Team. Cool, eh?
A lot of middle-class guys and gals my age are going to major colleges and universities thanks to their parents money. Me? I am proud to say that I made it on my own power. I'm going to a top notch school because of my talents, not who my parents are. It's all me. Or so I thought.
If I'm a genetic freak, then I haven't been competing against fellow swimmers fairly, not in the least. I always thought that I swam faster than other guys because I was naturally good, I didn't know that I was supernaturally good. In the late 1980s, as an undergrad, my mom used to wow them on the Yale University women's swim team. I used to say that I got my swimming talents from my mother. How ironic, eh?
My world got turned upside down thanks to this weird bit of news, and as I raced through Coral Gables sleepy streets, on my way to my buddy Derek Shore's house, I suddenly realized that I couldn't tell him about this shit. Not yet. The world is a fairly intolerant place. As the son of an Arab father and a Black mother, I used to get teased by the other youths at Poseidon High School because of my skin color and ethnic features.
At eighteen years old, I stand six feet two inches tall, with short, curly black hair, light brown skin and lime-green eyes. I used to tell people that I am mixed, or biracial ( I find the term mulatto outdated and offensive ) but these days, I solely identify as African-American. It was a long, painful journey for me, but I am stronger now because of it.
"What's up, Al? Holler at your boy," Derek said to me as I pulled into the driveway of his parents mansion in Santa Maria Street, one of the nicest areas of Coral Gables. I looked at this tall, red-haired, alabaster-skinned and heavily tattooed White dude, and smiled.
"Good to see you bro," I said, and gave Derek a hug. We walked into his house, and luckily, his folks weren't home. Derek's parents, Marianne and James Shore, work in real estate and they're the definition of uptight. I've known Derek for years, and they were always polite but cold when I came over for a visit. That's Florida for you, down here, even White liberals with Obama posters in their living rooms are "a certain way".
"What's troubling you, Al?" Derek said, tossing me a beer as we headed to the basement. Derek's basement is huge, filled with everything from video games to a pool table, a comfortable sofa, several couches, a mini-fridge, and a poster of his ancestor, Lieutenant Luther Shore, who served beside Robert E. Lee during the U.S. Civil War. My best buddy is descended from rednecks, but he's an awesome guy.
"Man, my parents are tripping and just told me some family history I honestly didn't want or need to know," I said, and Derek smiled, then jerked his thumb toward the oil painting of his ancestor on the wall. Lieutenant Luther Shore looked good in his Confederate uniform, almost to the point that you want to overlook the fact that the man used to own slaves and thought it worth fighting for.
"Bro, welcome to the club, my parents consider themselves Democrats and all that shit, but they find it worth mentioning whenever a brown or black family moves into Coral Gables," Derek said, and sipped his beer, his pale eyes fixed on me.
