Three Mermaid Tales

  My mother joins me just beneath the surface.

  "Thank you," I say, and the words come out clearly, not mutated by the water.

  "No, thank you, Gayle," my mother embraces me, and we circle in the gentle current. "Now I’m going to show you Mystycetii Island. You’ll never want to leave."

  Before we set off, I glance backward once more at the ship, realizing for the first time I may never set foot on it again. In fact, I may not have a foot to set. I won’t miss Foulweather’s bitter expressions, or Oneye Walter’s grim reality, or Taffy’s girlish emotions… but I admit I will miss the man who didn’t believe in mermaids. A little. I should say good riddance of him, but a part of me wants to see him again… if only to gloat in his face.

  ~~~

  After a swim that feels like forever, but at the same time no time at all with my mother’s exhilarating twisting and twirling through a pod of dolphins and my catching her up on my life since age eight, we arrive. And what a sight it is, that we arrive at! A mound of earth covered in lush rainforest rises out of the indigo evening tide. A mountain peak is submerged up above in pink clouds as the sun’s last rays light the starry sky.

  Rather than going on land, my mother dives below the surface, and I experience the underwater side of this paradise. Crystals jut from every angle, broken only by humble earthen circular doors and windows through which people with fishtails swim. A few glance at us, and some smile and wave. My mother waves back. We come to an open window near the surface, framed by coral and amethyst. My mom swims right through the window. I follow, careful not to kick the sea anemones growing on the sill.

  Inside is a watery studio apartment. We’re floating in the living room, where a giant clamshell is filled with couch pillows and a sea glass mosaic covers the coffee table. To the side, I spot a round open door to a bedroom where a seagrass hammock hangs next to a window. Somehow, it looks infinitely more comfortable than my cot on the ship.

  She motions for me to follow her into the bedroom, past framed pictures hanging in the hallway. There’s one of some sort of crinoid, one of a mudskipper… then I spot one of her and my dad. She sits in a blow-up wading pool on a grass field with a picket fence in the background – our yard back home. My dad is smiling like I’ve never seen him smile. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, he leans his head towards her, and both of them have one hand supporting a human baby in a pink dress.

  "Why did you leave?" I ask quietly as we enter the bedroom. I want to put the words back in my mouth – anything not to remove from me what I have spent most of my life searching for.

  She says, "I was needed here. And I just couldn’t be tied down to the land. It wasn’t a sustainable arrangement… I felt like I was fading every day." She turns to face me. "That isn’t to say," she says sternly, "that leaving you in the hands of that wreck of a man is in any way excusable. I need to learn to take responsibility for my actions and not get defensive…" her voice quavers.

  I reach out before she can say more, and touch her shoulder. "It’s all right, Mom," I say. "The important thing is, we’re together now."

  She pulls me in for a full embrace. "It has to be all right," she says. "I always thought I’d come back for you, when the time was right. I never expected you to be the one to come find me." She looks around the room. "I have something I’ve been keeping for you, something I always meant to return…" She pulls a large black chest out from under the hammock and opens the creaky lid. Then she reaches inside to produce a piece of paper that’s been ripped in half, crumpled and then taped together and smoothed again. "Take it. It’s yours," she tells me, though her hand grasps it a little longer than necessary after I begin to seize upon it.

  When I hold it up to the living lantern of a sea jelly hanging out on the ceiling, I recognize the childish pencil strokes immediately. "My drawing!" I marvel. "From the week I met you."

  She smiles and nods with tears in her eyes.

  "Thank you for keeping it all this time. I think now it’s more yours than mine."

  She shakes her head. "It belongs to you," she says softly, but eagerly takes it in her hands when I hold it back to her.

  I suddenly become curious: "How is that paper staying dry in the water?" She tells me, "There’s a lot to being a mermaid you don’t know yet, my dear. But I can teach you. I think you’ll learn fast."

  "But I’m not really a mermaid," I say, kicking my white stick-legs through the water.

  She says, "Not yet, but I think by releasing the krakens from the death grip of industry and forcing humanity to rethink their fuel source, you’ve earned the honor." She gestures around her, indicating the whole structure of Mystycetii. "Most of us were born with our fishtails, but since we mer-folk needed to enrich the diversity of our gene pool and expand the species’ range, we’ve been looking above water quite a bit. Anyone who meets certain criteria, such as working to save the ocean and getting along with sea creatures, can choose to join us and work to preserve this place. It’s hard to find people who care, though, and lately some of us are saying all our efforts are for nothing. The land folk are still burning kraken milk – up until recently. And even with this victory, they’re working to recapture the kraken. They’re searching for other, dirty forms of fuel. They keep dumping into the ocean, and even places like this the magic shield is wearing through. We’re vulnerable," she says, "and it’s beginning to worry me."

  "I won’t become a mermaid," I announce. "Not yet," I explain, and her face melts from shock to relaxed inquisitiveness. "First I have to go back home, and tell the humans about this place – about all the wonderful things I’ve seen on this voyage, things they didn’t teach us about in marine bio class. Knowing humanity, if they just knew what kind of magic is available here, they’d want to save it. But I need my legs just a little longer. You know, to give speeches and go up stairs and such," I explain.

  "You are a noble soul," she whispers sincerely. "A true mermaid at heart, just like your mother."

  We sink onto the clamshell sofa and begin sharing the details of both of our lives since we parted. I tell my mother about Dad’s drinking and his new sober spell, and she shakes her head and looks ready to cry in despair.

  As dawn breaks, my mother leaves her sleepless night in the apartment to search for animals in need of aid.

  I stay behind and pull out my waterproof cell phone. I have an important call to make.

  After several rings, each sounding more plaintive than the last, I hear the machine: "Asher Jonarche here, well – not here right now… leave your message at the beep and I may or may not get back to you."

  After the tone, I say, "Hi, Dad, it’s Gayle. I’m with Mom now, and it struck me that you might want in on this family reunion." I give him the coordinates of the island, which I looked up earlier on my phone. "Please, please, please come and make our family whole again."

  Chapter Twelve

  Sander

  Foulweather has tapped my almost-girlfriend’s phone.

  I’m stuck in the brig while he directs our crew to the island of the people with fishtails. I’ve tried banging on the door and yelling, but that only led them to tie me to a chair and gag me. I refuse to sit here helplessly while they destroy the island and capture the inhabitants… but my refusal isn’t really working out so far. The ship jerks to a jarring halt, and I know we’ve reached our destination.

  "Attention all mermaids!" cries Foulweather into the megaphone. "Surrender now or we’ll take this island by force!"

  I twist in my bindings, but it’s no use.

  Suddenly a shot rings out across the ship – and it wasn’t fired from our side.

  "Fire at will!" Captain Foulweather screams. Now the air is a soup of cannon shots and the ringing, booming sounds coming from across the water.

  I wish I could see what kind of weaponry the people with fishtails have fashioned. It almost sounds as if they’re playing musical instruments.

  A harplike chord explodes next to
my ear. One of the barrels of rum next to my chair starts bleeding the stuff, forming a substantial puddle at my feet.

  "We’ve been hit!" my dad calls, as shots continue to pound from both sides.

  "No kidding," I murmur, as more casks of rum burst open. The puddle grows gradually to a pond, then a lake, engulfing the small room and lapping at my shoulders. Soon it will reach above my nose and I won’t be able to breathe. I tilt my head back, hoping to prolong my life for a few seconds longer.

  Footsteps knock on the ceiling above my head. The trapdoor is yanked open, and sunlight floods in, sparkling on the surface of the sea of rum, which is now hovering just below my nostrils.

  Dad materializes in the trapdoor. Then he’s swimming next to me, untying me from the chair. The rum gives us a boost to the deck, where we both clamber out. He struggles to his feet, holds out his hand to me.

  I stand up on my own. He pulls the gag down around my neck.

  "Why did you save me?" I ask, looking him straight in the eye.

  "We have to stop this. They’re going to take all the mermaids, destroy the island…"

  "Did you just realize that?"

  "I just realized it’s not the right thing to do. I started this, maybe I can put a stop to it. But I need your help." He holds out his hand to me.

  This time, I take it. I’m not sure where he’ll lead me, but I know it’s the right place to be right now.

  That place turns out to be the captain’s quarters. From inside his safe, insulated cabin atop the deck, Captain Foulweather is ordering the crew into the loudspeaker to fire.

  I beg him, "Please stop this madness, Foulweather. These are beautiful creatures. They’re worth more free in their natural habitat than dead or dying in captivity."

  "Shut up, tree hugger." He yells into his speaker, "Load the cannons!"

  My dad sits down beside the captain. "Mr. Foulweather, sir, have you ever considered therapy?"

  "That’s Captain Foulweather to you!"

  Seeing this is going nowhere, I head outside to risk a walk through green cannonball explosions to talk to the crew. I hear a booming message over the loudspeaker: "Detain the tree hugger."

  As Hammerhead lumbers over to me, followed by Lorenzini, nose in the air, I mutter, "I’ve never actually hugged a tree in my life."

  Lorenzini puts a gun to my head as Hammerhead begins to not-so-gently nudge me towards the flooded prison. When we approach, Lorenzini cries, "The rum!" His hand slips to his side and the gun is triggered, just as a green explosion of mermaid fire envelops my lower body.

  Suddenly my legs are like jelly. I teeter over and before I know what’s happening I’m headed over the side of the ship, plunging towards the water below, which is filled with mermaids aiming their weapons up at me.

  "No!" I hear Gayle’s voice.

  Then I’m underwater, sinking towards an inevitable end since I can’t kick my legs. I feel arms around my chest, and I’m riding up in a human-powered elevator. My head breaks the surface and I gasp for air, eyes still squeezed shut.

  Meanwhile, I hear Gayle, sounding stronger than I’ve ever heard her, saying to the mermaids, "Don’t shoot him. He’s a friend, and he’s in need of medical care."

  The cannon fire dies down on both sides. My eyes blink open just long enough to see faces hovering over me, Gayle smiling nervously down at me at the forefront of the crowd. Then everything goes black.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sander

  "Quick, nurse, the anesthesia."

  "Yes, Doctor."

  I feel a quick pinch on my upper arm. Then everything goes numb.

  I’m floating in the womb, a pouch filled with liquid. My legs are curled up under me, and suddenly I feel my cells un-dividing, time going backwards as my legs disappear. Perplexed, I reach forward. My arms sweep nothingness.

  A green scale appears at my hip. Soon, more sprout, a girdle all the way around my waist. The scale-garden grows to a tip where my toes once were, and gossamer green fins extend from the tip of the emerald fishtail.

  Suddenly I’m filled with nausea looking at this abomination at my hips. I turn and try to swim away, but I bump into the cradling edge of the womb. I’m desperate to escape this impossible thing. I swim against the wall, going nowhere.

  Now Gayle’s hand comes down from nothingness, rests gently on my shoulder. "Stop fighting," her voice soothes, echoing all around me in the prenatal chamber, embracing me like a mother’s hug. "You need to heal."

  I stop swimming, let my body sink to the bottom of the oversized womb, where I lie, floating, bobbing up and down in the gentle current. The womb opens, and all around me I see a world of people, people holding medical equipment, people pushing stretchers with manatees lying on them, people crowded around me. All of them are without legs, and instead have fishtails. Only Gayle treads water with her skinny white legs emerging from her pajama shorts. I look down, and though I expect what I see it’s a shock to the eyes, finally fully open to what I’ve become.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gayle

  Sander sits in the sand, his tail fin just glancing the lapping waves. I leave the cabin reserved for two-legged visitors and clamber through the bushes to sit next to him in the wet sand, not caring about the effect this will have on my shorts.

  "Is everything all right?" I ask, a stupid question. He grimaces, and even with his face contorted in displeasure he’s beautiful.

  "Yeah, everything’s peachy," he sighs, and I can tell he wants to say more.

  "I think the fishtail looks good on you," I say boldly. "It emphasizes your eyes."

  "I wanted to go home," he says suddenly. "I mean, not that I had any real home waiting for me, but I planned to go back to civilization, to share my discoveries with the world."

  "That’ll be harder without two legs," I admit. "Although the Internet may make things a little easier."

  He rolls his eyes. "How will I present at scientific conferences this way? I’ll never get anyone to even discover my findings, let alone the kind of publicity that could lead people to take action."

  "That’s where I come in," I say. "I’ve already secured an appointment to talk to the President of the United States. I’m leaving tomorrow."

  "You’re leaving?" His eyes open wide, like a dog that’s been kicked by his beloved owner.

  "Just temporarily," I assure him, wanting to put an arm around his shoulders. "I’m going to see what kind of reaction I can get based on our discoveries: unicorns really do exist, and so do people with fishtails. That’s sure to get some sort of protective action going to save what’s left of the oceans. Who knows? Maybe we can even rebuild what’s been lost." I brush a stray piece of hair out of his face, unable to resist. "I never would have come this far if it hadn’t been for you," I say softly. "I never would have even cared so much about the ocean, or seen the things I did."

  He pulls me closer. "I never would have become a merman if it weren’t for you," he says. "I’d probably be dead right now. I want to thank you for saving my life."

  "Thank you for discovering mine," I reply. Our faces are inches from each other. He closes the distance, kissing me on the lips. I close my eyes to savor the moment.

  A whistle breaks us apart. The other inhabitants of the cabin have emerged, and Lorenzini stands over us, followed close behind by Hammerhead.

  Sander tenses up at once, but I stand and say, "they’re friends now, Sander. Everyone who worked on your ship has sworn to help protect the island and never harm another soul."

  "I never said anything about not harming a fly," Foulweather corrects me, smashing a buzzing beetle beneath his shoe.

  Sander smiles a crooked smile. "So, you guys don’t want to kill me anymore?"

  Foulweather bows slightly. "You saved us from starvation, showed us the beauty a’ nature, and took a hit from one of our own guns. From now on, you’re honorary captain. But I’m still the real captain givin’ the orders," he adds quickly.
br />   Sander’s dad steps forward. "Son," he utters. He crouches by the merman, elbows his muscular arm. "First of all, never scare me like that again. And second, never kiss a girl until you’ve invited her to dinner."

  ~~~

  I want to eat with my mom and all the others on the island, but Sander insists we find a private place. He clearly feels really bad about his earlier forwardness. As we sit stiffly over appetizers at the underwater Trilobite Tavern, I pull out my phone and text my dad under the table, telling him my location. I know that’s how I got into trouble before. But I really, really want him to come.

  As we’re getting ready to leave a sweet, yet painful hour later, the door bursts open. A commanding figure floats inside, and I’m shocked when I see for the first time that face without the ruddy cheeks and blood red veins in the eyes. My dad is handsome!

  He comes over without a sound, and I feel the eyes of all the merpeople in the room on us as he wraps me in his arms. "Gayle," he says finally, "what are ya doing datin’ a mermaid?"

  "That’s what you did," I protest, knowing he’s only joking. "Would you like to see her now?"

  His face lights up. "Would I ever!" He looks insecure. "But do ya think she’ll accept me?"

  Sander claps a hand on my dad’s shoulder. "Don’t worry, big fella," he says. "Just bring her a bouquet of shrimps or something."

  "It’s not that simple," I say. "It’s been a long time, and we’ve all hurt a lot. But the only way to know for sure is to try."

  We split the bill three ways – my dad tries to pay with paper money but the waitress frowns so he digs up some sand dollars and mother-of-pearl outside. Then we head out the door to meet my mom.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gayle

  I stand in the conference hall between Sander’s dad and my mom, who is safely contained in a glass tank. I’ve never seen so many empty seats before me, waiting to be filled by expectant bottoms, expecting me to deliver a rousing speech about something they know very little about. But all I feel ready to deliver right now is the remains of my lunch.

  My mom squeezes my hand, smiling up at me encouragingly. The smile gives me strength. I finger the scale at my heart, drawing healing power into my shaking hands.