by A. L. Knorr
He chuckled and posed in a cocky manner which I’d never seen in him before. I liked it. “What is the ridiculous nickname they they give girlfriends in North America? Baby?”
I burst out laughing at the way the pet name sounded in his accent and coming from his lips.
He smiled but didn’t break character. “Baby, I’m a wealth of hidden talents.”
He gestured along his body with his fingers as though showing off merchandise and I laughed even harder.
“How can a girl turn down such an offer?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” He grasped my shoulders and shuffled me around him to sit on the bed. “You, sit there, and just give me one second.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and appeared to be looking for something online.
“I give you, the Allman Brothers,” he said, pressing a button on his phone.
A bluesy, fast-paced tune poured from the tiny speakers and he began to bop with his shoulders.
I leaned back on my elbows, grinning from ear to ear and nodding in time to the beat. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
Antoni set the phone down on top of the dresser and did a little turn on one foot before breaking into a tap dance. The soles of his shoes didn’t make much sound on the carpet but it was easy to see that he knew what he was doing. I gasped in delight and sat up.
“No way! You can dance?”
He grinned and did an impressive step combo across the floor, adding in what I could only assume was an ‘air-banjo’ to the mix. The color rose high on his cheeks and down his neck and a thin sheen of sweat highlighted his forehead.
My body felt warmer and a wave of his scent washed over me, making me feel dizzy. I was thankful he’d made me sit down. Watching him spin and shuffle across the room like he owned the music filled me with an intoxicating kind of joy, and suddenly I was overwhelmed with the emotions of all that had come to pass since I’d returned to Poland. My eyes welled up, my mouth opened.
Antoni stopped dancing and looked up at me wide-eyed before diving to his phone to shut off the jazz tune.
The slow haunting melody filled the suite, my siren voice pouring from my throat like a multi-stringed orchestra. Every note labored to carry the heartbreak and grief I held since losing my mother, and the love I’d found in Antoni.
His expression grew still and astonished, like a parody of shock frozen in time. His eyes grew soft and liquid.
Still singing, I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of a fathomless sea cascading from my lips. It rose from the very bottom of my soul and poured from my throat and mouth like a fountain––a love song for Antoni, no words, just my multi-layered strings rising and falling like a symphony.
Antoni was suddenly there, kissing my face, my neck, my lips like he was afraid I could evaporate at any moment. My song came to an end as my heart beat only for him in grateful pulses. I had lost someone I loved dearly, but life had found a way to provide another beloved to fill my heart and help me survive.
Heat unfurled in my belly like a fragrant rose opening to the sun and I returned his kisses urgently, pulling him toward me. Something broke open inside both of us, desire gushed from the rends and mingled as we came together.
My parents wove through my dreams that night, as Antoni finally slept beside me.
I was no stranger to grief. I had been young when my father died, and the grief was softer-edged, a muzzy pain that manifested in a simple desire to smell him, be in his arms, hear his voice, just sit with him and be with my father.
The grief for my mother was an entirely different species––hard-edged, acute, sharpened to a needle-fine point as moments came that I wished she could be part of and knew she would not want to miss.
Dreaming she was with me––talking and laughing and listening in a way only she could––nearly crushed me with disappointment when I woke to discover she was still gone, and would likely never return. Waking with a start, my eyes found Antoni’s shape in the soft dark shadows of night. My heart was a tumult of feeling as I set a hand over his where it lay on the sheets. Love for him oozed from every seam within me, and it was heightened by the hollow sadness that always followed waking after dreaming of my mother.
Slowly and quietly, I slipped from the sheets, pulled on the jeans I’d tossed over the back of a chair when I’d dressed for the exhibition, along with a hoody and my sneakers. With a hand against my heart and wondering when I’d wake to not have this pain, I sneaked from the house and made my way down to the only place I knew I would find comfort like no other––the sea.
My feet found their way to the rocky promontory that reached out into the Baltic like a finger. I sat down and crossed my legs, taking deep breaths and willing myself not to cry.
Missing her slipped between my ribs like the cold blade of a knife. How badly I wanted to tell her everything, what I’d experienced with Antoni, about my birthday, about the exhibition. Just to have her company, be cradled by her unconditional love.
Closing my eyes, I imagined her swimming, carefree and happy––free from the torture of her life on land, the salt healing her wounds and giving her what she needed right now.
My cheeks and lap were wet as I realized I’d lost the battle against my siren tears. Letting them stream without staunching them, I visualized her playing with dolphins, exploring wrecks and caves, sunning herself in clear teal waters.
My mind reached for hers, searched for her over the expanse of waters between us.
Mira.
Where are you? What are you doing? Will you ever return to me?
Amiralyon.
A high soft song played on the wind and I realized I was singing again.
No, not singing.
Calling.
Amiralyon.
My siren voice rose and fell as the wind lifted it from my lips and carried it over the Baltic to the mermaid it was meant for, but it was not just my siren sound, I realized, it was elemental. It was intended, it was a message, it was a request to come back to me.
Amiralyon.
The Baltic rose to help me, the call stretching out from a single point to unfold and fan out in all directions…wherever there was water. The beckoning transmitted through the Baltic and beyond. Out to the Gulf of Bothnia, west to the North Sea, spreading past the Norwegian Sea, searching, seeking—out into the Atlantic, my elemental calling spread. Every molecule of water had become my mouthpiece, transmitting my desire.
In the Bay of Biscay, I found her and knew she heard me. I could feel her pausing, listening, turning––startled and confused. She became frightened, did not understand what was happening. As though not powered by her own will any longer, she began to slide through the water back the way she had come, hands and arms searching for control.
Both hands clamped over my mouth to shut off the sound I had barely any control over. My chest and shoulders rose and fell as I panted through my nose. Siren tears still coursed from my closed eyes, and my heart fluttered like a frightened caged bird.
The sound of the waves reached my ears, calmed me. The song had ceased.
I let my hands relax into my lap as I digested what had just happened. I’d found her, I’d found my mother, I knew exactly where she was. She was in the Bay of Biscay. The water told me she was fine, she was whole, she had been happy before my calling had disturbed her. And while her mind had shifted, she was not salt-flush.
I couldn’t hold in a surprised laugh of delight over my newfound ability. Discovering my siren abilities had so far been an amazing ride, but becoming acquainted with my elemental powers was a whole different world.
For the first time since I had said goodbye to her, that sharp knife-edge of grief backed off a little. I had a way of knowing she was okay, of knowing where she was, and even of drawing her home if I wanted.
The temptation to call her again rose swiftly up in me and I worked to rationalize. She had only just begun her salt-cycle. She needed this time; it would only be selfish of me
to bring her home for my own comfort. I would not do that to her, especially not after all she’d sacrificed for me, all the years she’d suffered for me.
But perhaps one day, years from now, when her salt-cycle had had its time, when she was ready for life on land again, I could.
I could call my mother home.
12
Antoni picked me up at four on the afternoon of Georjie’s arrival.
“You’re vibrating,” he said, flashing me a grin. “Excited?”
“You have no idea.” I buckled my seatbelt and settled in as Antoni pulled around the rotunda and guided the car through the gate and onto the road.
“It’s been hard not having your mom around, I know. I’m sure it’s a bit lonely sometimes.”
“It’s not just that. I mean yes, I do miss my mom, of course. I miss her like crazy. But Georjie and I have been best friends since preschool. We grew up together.”
“Like sisters.”
I nodded and swallowed down the lump in my throat. The emotion startled me. Maybe I had been hiding my own feelings of loneliness and missing my friends from myself. “Yeah. She’s family.”
As we hit the freeway heading to the airport, Antoni asked, “You spend a lot of time doing your schoolwork and meeting with Hanna and Marian, and spending time with me. After Georjie leaves, why don’t you sign up for Polish classes, or join a group in Gdansk, meet some locals and start making friends here? After all,” he reached over and took my hand, “this is your home now, right?”
I nodded. Though I loved Gdansk, it didn’t quite feel like home because my mom wasn’t here, and none of my friends had visited yet and were so far away that it seemed like they didn’t have any significant place in my world anymore. Antoni was the only thing that felt like home.
“It’s a good idea,” I murmured, squeezing his hand. “Thanks.”
We pulled onto the airport road and Antoni guided the car into short-term parking. Making our way to the meeting point for arrivals, my heart beat faster and felt lighter than it had since my mom had left. We bought a bouquet of yellow roses from one of the airport shops and waited. My eyes barely left the sliding doors through which tired looking passengers wheeling bulky bags continuously passed.
When I spotted Georjie’s blond head I leapt up, Antoni following.
“Georjie!” Putting my hand in the air, I waved to get her attention.
She heard her name and scanned the waiting crowd. Her big brown eyes fell on me and a grin burst across her face. She was half a head taller than everyone around her so it wasn’t difficult for her to spot us.
Leaving her luggage near a wall, she swept me up in a tight hug. The lump in my throat was back and I hid my face in her hair, a little embarrassed for being so teary-eyed. Georjie didn’t know I was mourning the loss of my mother yet, she wouldn’t understand why I was crying and it would upset her, because it was very unlike me to show emotion in public. I brushed a hand over my eyes as I pulled back, clearing the moisture.
“How was your trip?” I asked. “Are you exhausted?”
“I’m okay, I slept on the plane a little, but yeah, I’ll sleep well tonight, I think.” Her eyes went to Antoni, standing quietly with his hands in his pocket and a smile on his face. “You must be Antoni?” She held out a long slender hand.
“That’s me. Welcome to Gdansk.” Antoni shook her hand.
“Thank you. I’ve heard so much about you,” Georjie said as I grabbed her luggage and we made our way to the parking lot. “You know that you broke the curse, right?”
I shot a surprised look at Georjie.
“Broke the curse?” Antoni unlocked the trunk of the car and we deposited Georjie’s bags into the back. “What curse?”
I opened the door for Georjie and put my hand on her head the way a police officer does to a criminal as they shove them in the back seat. “Watch your head,” I said, mussing her hair, “brat.”
Georjie laughed and pushed her tangled hair out of her face. “Yeah. Before you, Targa thought she didn’t have the ability to fall in love.”
Antoni’s amused eyes fell on me. “I didn’t know that,” he murmured.
I gave him a smug smile over the roof of the car as we both slipped into our seats. “Thanks, Georjie,” I muttered.
“You’re welcome,” she said sincerely.
“Tell me more.” Antoni started the car and we began the journey home.
“I think that’s enough for one day,” I said.
“I’d really like to hear more about this curse,” Antoni teased. “I mean, if I broke it, it would be nice to know by what magic I did such a thing. Was this an ancient family curse?”
We chatted all the way home, with teasing me as the brunt of the conversation. It seemed Georjie and Antoni were bonding over a common hobby––making fun of Targa.
As we unloaded Georjie’s bags and Adalbert came out to shuttle them upstairs, Antoni slid back into the driver’s seat.
“You’re not coming in?” Georjie asked.
He closed his door but rolled down his window. “I have hockey game and a late dinner with my mum after that. But I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
I kissed him goodbye through the window and he smiled at Georjie. “Have fun catching up.”
Waving him off, Georjie then turned and looked up at the red brick mansion. “Wow, it looks even bigger in person than in the photos. What a cool place. Look at all those vines. Are there underground tunnels or secret passageways?”
I laughed. “Probably. I haven’t had time to explore the whole building, yet.”
“I can’t believe this is yours.”
We passed into the foyer and I led her up to show her to her suite, where she could rest and unpack, then took her to my suite so she would know where to find me.
“I know you said your mom was on a job right now, but when is she back? And I thought she quit salvage diving?”
“Yeah, about that…” My voice trembled and I stopped talking as my throat closed up. Georjie was behind me as I walked into the suite.
“Whoa, it’s like your own apartment!” Georjie tossed her purse on the couch and began to explore. “Are all the rooms like this?” She caught sight of my face and her expression melted into concern. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“My mom is gone, Georjie. She went back to the sea. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I couldn’t say it out loud.” I felt my lip tremble and my face crumple, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Sometimes you have control over emotion and other times emotion has control over you, and I had just lost the battle. Tears began to course down my face and it was not the kind of cry I’d be able to stop; it was a siren’s weeping. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.”
“Oh, Targa.” Georjie pulled me into a hug, arms firmly around my shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I wondered when that might happen. You poor kid. Why didn’t you say?”
Streams of salty tears coursed down my cheeks and I released Georjie to get a towel from the bathroom. I mopped at my face and neck, unable to answer Georjie yet as grief had throttled my voice.
Emerging from the bathroom, I sat on the couch beside Georjie.
“You’ll see her again, Targa,” she said, rubbing my back.
“You don’t know that,” I choked out. “What if I kept her out for too long and she goes salt-flush? She could lose her memory, even her identity.”
Georjie was silent for a moment, then said, “Salt-flush?”
I had never explained salt-flush to my friend before. “Mom told me that if a siren delays having a salt-cycle for too long, then when they finally succumb to what their body needs and go to the ocean, it can cause a kind of backlash. The salt erases more than just their memories, but their humanity as well. They become like any other animal in the ocean, just surviving day to day.”
Explaining it to Georjie, saying it out loud, made me picture my beloved mother as just that––vacant expression, just existing in the ocean lik
e a tuna, neither happy or unhappy, all traces of Mira MacAuley gone for good if she was never exposed to fresh-water again. Fresh tears coursed down my face at these thoughts.
“I have all these amazing powers, Georjie.” I looked at my friend, miserable, wretched. “But there was nothing I could do to save her from her fate. She just got worse and worse, until it would have been cruel to do anything but take her to the water’s edge and say goodbye.”
Georjie’s brown eyes had darkened with moisture and her own tears slipped down her face. “I didn’t know.”
“I never explained it to anyone before, and with all the crazy stuff that happened in Saltford before we said goodbye, there was no time. And I wasn’t thinking it would happen so soon anyway. I thought, deep down, that maybe she would be strong enough to push through it, or that I might be strong enough to prevent the ocean from taking her. But I was wrong.”
Georjie didn’t know what to say, she just held me while I wept.
It took some time for the tears to dry up enough for us to venture down for dinner. We barely spoke over dinner, and Georjie threw a lot of concerned looks my way. By the time I felt good enough to talk again, Georjie and I were in pajamas and in my suite lying propped up against my pillows.
“How is Liz?” I asked.
Georjie closed the book she was reading, something to do with the Scottish highlands, which made sense considering that was where she was headed next. “She’s really good. She’s still part of the disaster relief crew, though she donates money more than time because her clients keep her as busy as always.”
“She’ll miss having you around.”
She shrugged. “Yes and no. We’ve come a long way, and our relationship is better than it’s been since I was a little kid, but you know we’ll probably never be best friends. I think we’re both okay with that.”
I nodded. “What are you going to do in Scotland?”
“Besides classwork?” She laughed. “Tour the highlands, I guess.”
I nodded, but could tell that Georjie didn’t want to talk about herself because she was worried about me.
