by Amy Cross
“Sylvia, will you please look at me?”
I hesitate for a moment – for too long, really, which is naughty – and then I force myself to look at Mother.
She's smiling.
“Come here,” she says.
“I thought I wasn't supposed to get up while I'm eating.”
“I'm giving you a special exception, Sylvia. Come over to me.”
I hesitate again, before realizing that I really have no choice. Setting my fork down, I climb off the chair and make my way slowly around the side of the table. Mother has never, ever asked me to go over to her during dinner, and I can't deny that I'm feeling a little bit nervous. I can't show that, of course, so I try to look relaxed as I reach her. She's simply staring at me, however, and her smile seems to have faded a little.
What's that word that Mr. Randall used?
Instable?
Inscruble?
Inscrutable?
Yes, that was it.
Mother looks inscrutable. I can't tell what she's thinking.
“You and I are very alike, you know,” she says finally. “I've always known that we are, since the moment you were born, but the similarities are becoming more apparent with each passing day. You're growing up, Sylvia, and you're becoming a woman. As that happens, your true character is beginning to form, and you're becoming more like me than I ever dared dream. Not that I want you to be a facsimile, of course, but it's good to see certain strengths evolving in your person.”
I wait for her to continue. I don't know why she's telling me this now.
“Other people can be very cruel,” she continues. “People outside our home, I mean. I specifically chose Ms. Harper and Mr. Randall because they demonstrated some degree of kindness, but they really are an exception that proves the rule. I know that one day you'll leave the building without me, at least for short trips, but I would be remiss as a mother if I didn't try to prepare you for the cruelty that's out there. You know that I'm protecting you, don't you?”
I nod.
“The good news,” she says, with a hint of tears in her eyes now, “is that because you're like me, you'll learn to deal with all of this. You won't let the bastards grind you down. I'm sorry to use a bad word, Sylvia, but sometimes such things are appropriate. My grandfather used to say that phrase to me when I was your age, and I was never too badly harmed. And the truth is, when I say that you're like me, what I really mean is that you're at least like me. My sincerest hope, my darling, is that you will exceed me in every possible way. Do you know what exceed means?”
I nod.
“What does it mean, Sylvia?”
“Be better than.”
“That's right.” Her teary smile widens. “Do you think you can do that, Sylvia?”
I pause, before nodding again.
“That's my girl.” Reaching out, she pulls me closer and starts hugging me, holding me tight as if she's worried I might try to turn away. “I'm so proud of you. And I promise you, when Ms. Harper says that you have one of your outbursts, I'm never angry. I'm pleased, Sylvia, because it means that you're getting tough the way you should be tough. One can't remain raw and tender forever. I want you to always remember that.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
She pulls away and places her hands on my shoulder, and now she's grinning at me as tears actually run down her face. Sometimes, like now, I think Mother has a lot going on in her head that she never really lets out. Sometimes I even think she's hiding things from me.
“You're going to have all the chances that I never had, my sweet little angel,” she continues. “You're going to be better than me in every single way. And you're going to see things that no other child has truly seen. Why, straight after dinner I'm going to take you downstairs and show you what I wanted to show you last night. I was down there all day making sure that those idiots fixed the problem, and now the time has come. You're excited about that, aren't you?”
I feel very nervous, but I know I can't show that. So instead I nod yet again.
“Now go back to your chair and eat your dinner,” she says, sniffing back tears as she wipes her cheeks. “Mummy's precious little girl is growing day by day, and you need all your strength! You're feeling okay, aren't you?”
I nod.
“No... tiredness?”
I shake my head.
“You're feeling absolutely fine?”
I nod again, before turning and starting to go back to my seat.
“Oh, and Sylvia?”
I swallow hard.
“What is it?” I ask, worried that I might be in trouble.
She stares at me for a moment, and then her smile returns.
“I'm going to show you something after dinner,” she says finally. “Something amazing. Something most people don't even believe is real.”
***
One hour later, instead of going through to my room to do some more algebra work, I walk behind Mother as she leads me back along the corridor on the floor beneath our apartment. This is the same corridor we walked down last night, and I've got the same nervous feeling in my tummy.
In fact, the feeling might even be worse.
I can't help thinking about the tank of water, and about the hand I saw, and about what might happen if the tank breaks.
“Keep up,” Mother says, turning to me and smiling as she reaches the double doors. “You're going to love this, Sylvia. It's going to change the way you see the world.”
She pushes the doors open and holds them for me so that I can follow her through. I know I should act like I'm more excited, but I can't quite summon a smile so I simply shuffle through until I'm in the same huge room from last night. I can see the tank ahead, still mostly empty except for the sunken boat. Doctor Collier is at one of the computer terminals, and when he turns to look at Mother I can see an expression of real dread on his features. He's one of those people who just seem scared all the time.
“Okay,” Mother says, walking past him and leading me toward the tank. “Let's get this show on the road. I trust we won't have any further disappointments tonight?”
“I just want to stress,” he replies, “that I in no way condone the use of -”
“Just do it!”
Mother and I stop in front of the tank, but a little further back than yesterday. Mother takes hold of my hand and pulls me forward so that I'm right next to her, and I stare ahead in wonder at the vast amount of water. The lights are on again, making the blue look really beautiful, but I still don't see anything moving about in there.
“Are you doing it?” Mother calls out.
“I am,” Doctor Collier says through what sounds like gritted teeth. “I'm turning the level up gradually.”
“I had him install a device that produces a mild charge in the water,” Mother explains, nudging my arm. “Nothing dangerous, nothing that'll hurt her. It's just enough to make her feel uncomfortable, and after the training program today she now understands that she can make the charge stop at any moment simply by showing herself to us. Don't worry, as soon as she comes out the charge will be turned off. She actually learned very quickly. She must be intelligent.”
I don't understand what she means, but I don't ask her to explain. Instead I continue to stare at the tank, and slowly I start to realize that the hairs are standing up on the back of my neck. I reach around to feel them, and it turns out that I'm right. I try to smooth them down, but they immediately stand up again. At the same time, my tummy is feeling more and more nervous and I have to fight the urge to turn around and run straight out of the room.
“I don't feel very well,” I say finally, hoping that Mother will understand and let me go.
“Just wait.”
“I can hear a buzzing sound in my ears,” I add, which is true. There's a faint murmur that seems to be getting louder. “I think it's coming from in the water.”
“Nonsense,” Mother replies. “We're completely shielded.”
“But -”
“Stop imagining things, Sylvia.” She sounds annoyed. “Please, just watch.”
“But it feels wrong,” I reply, as I look at my right arm and see that the hairs are starting to stand up there too. “I don't feel right.”
“Why's it taking so long?” Mother shouts to Doctor Collier. “She should be out by now!”
Clenching my teeth, I try to keep calm, even though my tummy is really feeling bad. I don't want to be sick, and I definitely don't want to disobey Mother, but this sensation is getting worse and worse and I'm worried that at any moment I might not be able to hold back. Finally I let out a faint murmur of pain, but somehow I don't actually start crying as the buzzing sound gets louder and louder.
“Can't you hear that?” I ask finally.
“Stop imagining things!” Mother barks.
“I'm not, but -”
“Stop!”
“I'm not imagining things,” I add, hating the whine in my own voice, “I promise, but -”
“Sylvia!”
“Please, I'm just -”
Suddenly I spot something rushing toward the front of the tank, and I'm shocked to see a human figure slam into the glass. It's a woman, and she looks like she's in pain, but as she places her bare hands against the glass I look down at her legs and see that she doesn't have legs. Instead, as the buzzing sound gets louder and louder and as my ears start to hurt, I realize that the woman's lower half looks like a fish's tail.
All I can do is stare at her. She can't be real, she has to be some kind of trick, but...
“There,” Mother says proudly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Didn't I tell you I had something special down here?”
Chapter Eight
“That's enough!” Mother shouts.
Almost immediately, the buzzing sound stops and the hairs on my neck and arms go back to normal. Staring straight ahead, I see the pain start to ease from the face of the woman in the tank, and then a moment later I watch as her huge fishy tale swings around beneath her and bumps against the inside of the glass. Her hands are still touching the glass, but then a moment later she pulls back a little until she's simply floating in the water and staring back at me.
She's a mermaid.
She has to be.
I mean, if she's real, if...
If...
Her upper half is human. She's beautiful, with blonde hair rippling gently in the water. She has human arms and a human chest, and a human tummy too, but she doesn't have a tummy button and instead her skin around her waist goes from being pale to being scaly. Her hips are wide and broad, and her entire lower half is mostly silver with patches of greeny-blue scales around the side, leading down to a thick, powerful-looking tail that even now is swishing slowly and gently through the water as if it's keeping her upright.
I stare at the tail for a moment, before looking up at the woman's face and seeing that she's still staring right at me.
Not at Mother.
Not at Doctor Collier.
At me.
I open my mouth to say something, but I don't know where to begin. And then, just as I'm about to try taking a step back, I notice that the woman has what looks like a set of cuts on each side of her neck, almost as if she has gills like a fish.
I don't understand.
This isn't possible.
Mermaids aren't real, Ms. Harper said so, so how -
“Isn't she magnificent?” Mother asks, her voice filled with a sense of awe.
Looking up, I see that Mother is staring at the woman in the tank with bright, excited eyes and a huge grin.
“Don't fight it, Sylvia,” she adds.
“The mermaid?” I stammer. “Why would I want to fight a mermaid?”
“I don't mean that.” She puts her hands on the sides of my head and forces me to turn back to look at the figure in the water tank. “Don't fight the truth of what you're seeing. Enjoy broadening your understanding of what's real in the world, Sylvia. It does us all good, now and then, to feel a few knots of certainty becoming untied in our minds.”
“But...”
My voice trails off.
Even though the mermaid is right in front of me, I still can't quite believe that she's really really really real. She could be a hologram, or a robot, or a cartoon, or a trick or a projection or someone in a costume or anything else, anything except...
Anything except an actual, real mermaid.
“Look at her power,” Mother continues. “Look at that tail. Imagine what she can do. Look at her face, Sylvia. Look how beautiful she is. Even her hair, I mean... Well, I suppose bad hair days aren't much of a problem for someone who lives in the water, but just look at her! Have you ever seen anything so utterly beautiful?”
My mouth is hanging open, but I don't care. I feel as if my brain isn't quite working suddenly, as if I can't understand what I'm seeing. I think there's still a part of me that thinks this can't be real, that the woman can't be a mermaid, but she can clearly breathe underwater and after a moment she flicks her tail, which causes her to sink a little further toward the back of the tank.
She's real.
I don't know how, but suddenly it hits me like a thump to the chest.
She's a real mermaid, swimming in a water tank right here in the heart of London.
“Where's she going?” Mother says. “She's not going to hide again already, is she? What's the point of that? She knows we can see her.”
“Can she talk?” I ask, keeping my eyes fixed on the woman's face.
“That's one of the many things we're going to figure out,” Mother replies with a hint of pride in her voice. “She can certainly produce vocalizations, but whether she actually has a language is something we'll have to discover. And the odds of her speaking English are very low, although perhaps she can be taught in time. It's exciting, though, isn't it? Nobody else in the world has something like this, Sylvia. I'm the only one.”
I look up at her.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because she's the last,” she continues, still staring into the tank. “As far as we can tell, anyway. Their final colony was almost completely wiped out by accident with a tanker about five years ago. I had the last two of them tracked and finally they were picked up. There were supposed to be two in here, a male and a female, but... Well, something went wrong in transit and now there's just this one. The breeding program's off, but at least we have this magnificent specimen for a while. Can you imagine how much she's worth?”
Looking back into the tank, I see that the woman is a little closer to the sunken boat now, although she's still fully in view.
“I'll tell you exactly how much she's worth,” Mother continues, stepping forward until she's almost right up against the tank. “She's worth nothing. Because nothing in the world would ever induce me to part with her, or even to let anyone else know that she's real. There are people out there who'd give anything for her, but money simply doesn't come into it so they might as well be paupers. She's mine. I have her now, and I've been planning for this moment for a very long time.”
She reaches out and places a hand against the glass.
“This is just the beginning, Sylvia,” she adds. “We're going to -”
Suddenly the mermaid swings her tail around and swoops under one end of the sunken boat, quickly vanishing from sight.
“Should I try to get her out again?” Doctor Collier asks wearily.
Mother doesn't answer immediately. Instead she stares into the tank for a moment, as if she's contemplating what she should say. I wait for her to tell Doctor Collier to start the charge again, but finally she steps back and moves her hand away from the glass.
“No,” she says, sounding a little tired, as if the experience was almost too much for her, “let her be. Let her rest for a while. She'll need her strength in the morning.”
Turning to me, she actually seems a little shaken.
“Come on, Sylvia,” she says, reaching down and taking my hand. She's trembling. “It's late
and I need to sleep. You should sleep too, it's been a big day.”
She starts leading me away, but then suddenly she stumbles and falls. Shocked, I step back as she lets go of my hand, but she simply falls onto one knee for a moment before getting back up.
“Excuse me,” she mumbles, “I just... Today has been very trying. I'm sure tomorrow I'll be much better.” She turns to me, but she still looks a little weak even though she's trying to smile. “We're at the beginning of something very exciting, Sylvia,” she continues. “One day you're going to look back on this as one of the most important days of your life.”
By the time we reach the elevator, she seems even more exhausted, and I can't help noticing when she suddenly leans against the wall for a moment. I'm worried she might collapse, but somehow she managed to keep going and finally we get back up to our apartment. She talks some more about how excited she is, about how this is a momentous night, and she promises me that we're going to be closer than ever.
But then, for the first time ever, she tells me to put myself to bed.
Chapter Nine
“Wake up.”
Opening my eyes, I find that I'm in my bedroom. The curtains are closed, but light is leaking in around the edges of the gray fabric and a moment later I hear footsteps coming toward my door. I glance at the clock and see that it's one minute to seven, which means Mr. Randall is about to come and wake me.
Wait.
Who said “Wake up” just now?
I look around and -
Suddenly there's a knock at the door.
I sit up just as the door clicks open, and then I see Mr. Randall peering into the room.
“You're awake,” he says softly. “Well, wonders never cease. Breakfast will be served in fifteen minute, Ms. Sykes.”
With that, he shuts the door again, leaving me sitting alone in bed. Every morning for as long as I can remember, Mr. Randall has woken me by gently nudging my shoulder. Then he makes a joke about how I'm such a deep sleeper, and about how I have to get up. This morning is the first time I ever remember waking up before he comes in, and I've got to admit that I feel a little confused.
