I started a peculiar portraits series this week. For each portrait, I’m going to write a fictional story behind the characters I create. My first portrait is of Marta. You can read my short story below, which answers the question as to why she has a crab on her head.

Marta was born during a category 5 hurricane. Just like the storm, she flew into the world quickly and unexpectedly. Her parents grew up on Martha’s Vineyard, as did their parents, and their parents’ parents. She was born in the oldest house on the island. Fate had it out for Marta from the start. The wiring in the old house was outdated, just like everything else. The moment she was born, a bolt of lightning took out the power. When the doctor asked what the baby should be called, her mother said, “Martha,” after their beloved home. The doctor couldn’t hear her over the thunder, and wrote “Marta” on the birth certificate instead. Her parents signed the certificate in the dark, not realizing the colossal mistake they’d just made.

That missing "h” made Marta’s life difficult. If she’d grown up anywhere else, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But she was a Marta living on Martha’s Vineyard. That’s a tough nut to crack. Any time someone on the island asked if she was The Martha, she’d sigh and answer, “No, unfortunately my name is Marta.” She could see the disappointment in their eyes every time. She grew up feeling like one big, giant disappointment.

She asked her parents if she could change her name. They just replied, “You were destined to be a Marta. Leave it at that.”

Over the years, Marta withdrew from society on the island. Traveling the world with her parents was her only respite. Her mother was a photographer, and her father was a street performer, so they went all kinds of places. Everywhere they visited, she was just “Marta,” and life was good. Then, at the age of eighteen, she received word that her parents were eaten by wild boars while hiking the Himalayas. Marta had stayed behind to attend school. It was the worst day of her life.

Marta was afraid to leave the island after that, so she spent her days wandering the beach like a living ghost. Her only comforts in life were gathering shells and seaside picnics by herself. One day, she was feeling particularly low. She was eating lunch on the beach, hunched over a PB&J, when her favorite hat blew away. This was the final straw. She was fair skinned and couldn’t live without her beloved hat. Without her hat’s protection, she couldn’t do any of the things she enjoyed. Her tragic existence hit her all at once, and she began to cry. She cried so much, the tide came in. As the water level grew closer to her picnic, a lone crab washed ashore and scurried onto her blanket.

The crab asked, “Why are you crying?”

Marta replied, “Because I lost my favorite hat. Also, my name is Marta.”

The crab said, “I’m no hat, but I’d be delighted to sit atop your head and shield you from the sun.”

Martha’s crying slowed as she asked, “Why would you do such a kind thing for me?”

He replied, “Because your head would be a great way for a lowly crab like me to see the world. Also, I think the name Marta is groovy.”

And that was that. Marta smiled for the first time ever, and gave the crab a thumbs up. He climbed up her back, to the highest point of her head. The crab liked it so much up there, he stayed put. And see the world, they would. Marta sold her parents’ house that day, and together they boarded the first ocean liner out. They would never return to the island again.

And that was the day Marta decided maybe her name wasn’t so bad after all.