The Mermaid

by Christina Henry

  Dr. Griffin was said to be from the London Lyceum of Natural History. Levi had explained that London was across the sea in a country called England, and he had shown her pictures of the castle there from a large volume in the Barnums’ personal library.

  She immediately decided that London was one of the first places she would see when she left Barnum’s employ. Amelia had never seen a castle. She’d asked if the castle was as big as the Park Hotel (the largest building in the neighborhood of the American Museum besides the museum itself), and Levi had laughed.

  “You could put a whole bunch of Park Hotels inside a castle, especially that one,” he’d said, pointing to the picture.

  He had also explained that he needed a different accent since he was supposed to be from a different country.

  “Do I sound British?” he asked her, sounding very unlike himself.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said, wondering why he asked such foolish questions sometimes. Then, because he looked disappointed, she added, “I imagine most people in the audience won’t know, either.”

  That did not appear to comfort him. He said, in his regular voice, “I’ll go onstage first. I’ll tell the story of my expedition to the exotic waters of Fiji and how I encountered you while on a boat and convinced you to return to New York with me.”

  They had changed this portion of the story at Amelia’s request, who objected to even the made-up implication that “Dr. Griffin” had caught her while out fishing.

  Barnum and Levi thought this was because it implied she was an animal. The truth was that she couldn’t bear for any part of this lie to resemble her real life with Jack.

  Jack was the truth; he’d caught her in a net but she chose to come back to him. This tale was not the truth, and Amelia felt that if they were going to lie, then they should lie about all of it.

  “Then when I say, ‘Please observe, for the first time in the civilized world, the Feejee Mermaid,’ you’re to come onstage from this side and I’ll exit to the other side and then . . .”

  “I know, Levi,” she said.

  They’d practiced and practiced all of this numerous times. First they’d practiced on the theater stage in the American Museum—without the tank full of water, of course, but with the light and the ladder and the screen at the top. These rehearsals had essentially involved all the aspects of the show except the part where Amelia dove into the water.

  In the last two days they had practiced in the Concert Hall itself, under the cover of strictest secrecy. Everyone was removed from the building, and guards were posted outside to ensure that no one tried to sneak in. Nothing could be worse in Barnum’s eyes than a member of the public catching a glimpse of her without buying a ticket first.

  It had been necessary to have at least one session in the tank to ensure that Amelia could change when she was not actually in the sea. Barnum had not been willing to take Amelia’s word for it—“though a naked girl in a tank will probably cause just as much of a ruckus as a mermaid might,” he said.

  The change had occurred just as smoothly as it did in the ocean. Amelia didn’t like the seawater in the tank—it tasted old and stale, and it lacked the swirling little animals that humans couldn’t see without microscopes but that she saw with clear eyes. But it was seawater, and when she emerged from the tank and pushed her hand into the jar of sand placed on the platform, she’d turned right back into a human woman.

  Levi checked his watch. He’d been compulsively doing so all morning, often enough to make Amelia glad that she didn’t carry one. It seemed once you had a watch, you became inordinately fond of examining it.

  “It’s nearly noon,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. She could tell by the way the sunlight no longer slanted through the windows in the hall that it was almost exactly overhead.

  Levi paced in a straight line, then a circle, then checked his watch and paced back to her in a straight line again. She watched all this with a bemused stare. Walking about like that wouldn’t make the time go any faster, though she decided he wouldn’t thank her for saying so.

  “How can you be so calm?” he asked.

  “What else should I be?” she said.

  He opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and turned away. Then he came back and spoke with such force that she took a half step away from him.

  “How can you be so mild when everyone is going to see what you are? After today there won’t be any more secrets. Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

  “It’s very late in the day for regrets, Levi Lyman,” she said, feeling a little temper at his tone. “And you are wrong, very wrong, to think I will have no more secrets. Yes, everyone will know I am a mermaid—or at least they’ll know of the existence of someone called ‘the Feejee Mermaid.’ They won’t know Amelia Douglas, or even the creature I was before I met Jack. Do not mistake the revelation of my body for the revelation of my heart. My heart keeps its own secrets, and they don’t belong to you or anyone else just because you’ve seen me with a fish tail.

  “Besides, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? When you came to my cottage so many months ago you wanted me to exhibit myself. And here I am, doing just that.”

  He looked stricken for a moment, then looked away and murmured, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

  “Well, I do,” she said firmly. “And as I’m the one who will be onstage, it’s my wants that matter.”

  They might have gone on like that for some time, but the clock struck twelve, the doors opened, and Levi was left to swallow the bile of second thoughts.

  The crowd seemed to swell like an ocean wave as it entered, the noise pushed before it as people stomped down the aisles and filled up the seats closest to the stage.

  Amelia let their mingled breath and murmurs break over her. They were only a different kind of sea, one she’d never been in before. She only needed to swim in it, and swimming was more natural to her than walking.

  Levi stood stiffly beside her, the words said and unsaid pooled in regret at his feet. She could feel them there, waiting to climb back into his mouth.

  Then it was time for him to walk onstage and he was gone, and she hadn’t wished him luck as she’d meant to. She meant to do the proper human thing, to behave the right way, but they were not as easy with each other as she’d thought they would be.

  All the world narrowed then to just his figure onstage and the words he said in a voice that was not his. She didn’t listen to them, not really, not the shapes, only the noise. She was waiting for her cue, for the words that meant she couldn’t hide anymore in the wings.

  “Please observe, for the first time in the civilized world, the Feejee Mermaid!” He swept his arm toward her, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

  The limelight appeared just past the curtain that hid her from view. She was supposed to step into it, like a net that would catch her and pull her across the stage.

  The crowd drew one long collective breath, leaving no air for her.

  Amelia stepped into the light.

  Her feet were bare, her hair unbound, and the dress she wore little better than a shift. She didn’t glance at the audience, who’d broken out into excited whispers at her appearance, but she felt the sheer weight of their numbers pressing on her nonetheless.

  It had never occurred to her before that eyes could be terrible things. Eyes that turned toward her, every one. Eyes that tried to pierce her, divine her, know her. Eyes that judged and, almost worse, eyes that hoped. Eyes that said they would wait and see before they decided. Eyes that wanted every bit of her, especially the secret longings of her secret heart.

  All of them were there, and she could not meet them as she usually did. The ladder seemed a long way away, a mountain to climb on a far-off horizon.

  Three more steps, two, and then she turned to climb the ladder and now she saw all the faces, all the hun
gry faces, so she tipped her gaze up and she climbed, climbed, climbed until she reached the little platform at the top.

  Then the screen hid her from the faces, and she dropped her dress to one side and dove into the water.

  The change rolled over her skin and she arched up but not far enough to break the surface. She wanted to stay in the water, feel the comfort of it pressing all around her.

  There came a tremendous swell of noise from the crowd, but it was muffled inside the tank. She looked through the glass and saw that many people were standing and pointing.

  One woman in the front row had her hands clasped before her and tears running down her face. Her mouth moved rhythmically, like she was saying a prayer, and Amelia didn’t know if the woman was thanking her God or cursing the devil for the mermaid’s existence.

  A general commotion broke out near the back. Amelia couldn’t tell exactly what it was—the rear of the theater was dark—but suddenly several people ran into the aisles and toward the stage.

  Amelia realized with alarm that they intended to climb up to get a better look at her. Then they were on the stage, pressing in and shouting, pushing up against the glass and banging it with their fists and their eyes were bulging and their mouths were open.

  For the first time in her long, long life, she felt ashamed, ashamed because her body made them gape and shout and press up against the tank with their fingers grasping.

  She saw Levi pushing people out of the way and his mouth making the words Get back, get back, but nobody listened, nobody wanted to know or hear.

  They only wanted to see her, see her, see her, and she didn’t want to see them anymore but there was nowhere to look where there were not faces, ravening faces now, their hunger not sated by the sight of her but rather whetted instead and they only wanted more and more and more and she should have known this would happen and Barnum should have known this would happen and Levi tried to tell her this would happen and she didn’t want to see them anymore so she curled into her fin and covered her face and wished she’d never left home.

  CHAPTER 7

  PANDEMONIUM AT CONCERT HALL! Many people injured in quest to see Feejee Mermaid.’ ‘UNBELIEVABLE BUT TRUE—We have seen the Mermaid!’ ‘MERMAID IN NEW YORK—One woman killed—All the details.’”

  Barnum read each successive headline aloud with increasing relish. The fact that he was enjoying this and nobody else seemed to didn’t appear to register at all.

  “You are a success,” he said. Levi could practically see the coins falling in Barnum’s eyes. “We can charge anything for people to see you—anything at all. The whole Eastern Seaboard is going to flock to New York to see you.”

  “A woman was killed,” Amelia said dully.

  Levi thought she looked like a piece of tarnished silver. The shine was off her, and her grey eyes were muted.

  “Yes, that was unfortunate,” Barnum said. He didn’t sound like he thought it was unfortunate at all. “But the show was a sensation. People won’t be able to get enough of you! All the tickets for tomorrow’s presentation have already sold out.”

  “I’m not doing any more presentations,” Amelia said.

  Levi thought it would come to this. When they’d finally managed to clear the crowd out of the hall (with the help of several city constables), he and Barnum had been unable to rouse her from her isolation in the tank no matter how hard they knocked and yelled.

  Finally Levi had stripped down to his underclothing and climbed into the tank. Barnum certainly wouldn’t do it. The water was salty and slightly stale, and up close he found himself fascinated by the silver pattern of scales all over her.

  He touched her shoulder, and it was as if she was roused suddenly from a deep sleep. Her right arm slashed out, those very dangerous claws barely missing his stomach. Levi was certain that if she’d touched him, his guts would have spilled out on the floor of the tank.

  It was then, strangely, that he truly understood that she was not of the land but of the sea. The woman was temporary. The mermaid was who she really was.

  After a moment the reflexive defense lowered, her eyes focused, and he knew she saw him. She looked around, bewildered, and Levi wished he dared touch one of the floating tendrils of her hair. He wished he dared take her in his arms and tell her it was all going to be fine.

  But he was not of the sea. He didn’t even like the ocean. He was a mundane creature who needed to breathe the air, and so he pointed upward so she would understand his intentions and kicked awkwardly up to the surface, trailing all his wishes behind him and hoping she couldn’t see them there in the water.

  Now Barnum gloated over the evening headlines and Amelia sat there, a piece of glass that might shatter at any moment. Levi thought then that he could hate Barnum. Oh yes, he could hate him very easily. The least Barnum could do was notice the feelings of those around him.

  Well, what did I expect? Levi thought. He never noticed when Charity was miserable, and he’d never noticed when Joice Heth was, either.

  “There won’t be any more performances,” Amelia repeated. “I won’t do it. That woman died. She was knocked to the ground and people stepped on her. The last thing she felt on this earth was boots stomping over her spine and no one stopped, no one paused, no one tried to help her up. They just kept right on rampaging toward me. So I won’t do it, Barnum. I won’t have it happen again. I won’t be the cause of someone’s death.”

  “Now, Amelia”—Levi knew Barnum was alarmed if he was calling her by her first name—“there won’t be another incident like that.”

  “How can you know?” she said, her tone scathing. “You can’t divine the future, else you’d be charging a nickel for the service.”

  The insult rolled right over Barnum, the way most things did. “We’ll take every precaution for audience safety. We didn’t expect the response to be quite so enthusiastic.”

  Levi couldn’t let that pass. “Enthusiastic? The crowd turned into a pack of animals. How can you plan for that?”

  “We’ll hire guards,” Barnum said. “I can’t have people running at my mermaid like that. It will be an extra expense, but—”

  “She’s not your mermaid,” Levi said.

  “She’s certainly not your mermaid,” Barnum said with a nasty edge in his voice.

  “Barnum. This is not about money,” Levi said. “If you want to talk about expense, let’s talk about the funeral expenses that woman’s family has to pay.”

  Barnum’s eyes narrowed. “Actually, I must disagree with you there, Levi. It is about money. This young woman signed a contract with me, a legally binding contract, and I’ve already invested a significant amount based on the promise of that contract. If she leaves now, she’ll owe me for those expenses.”

  His eyes gleamed. He thought he had Amelia trapped.

  Amelia stood. There was no dramatic flounce, no angry set to her shoulders, and when she spoke, her voice was completely even.

  “If I want to leave, you can’t stop me, Barnum. The ocean is vast and you are small, no matter how many buildings have your name on them.”

  She left the room. Levi watched her go, paralyzed by uncertainty. Perhaps it would be better for her, for everyone, if she did go.

  If she left, then the longing he felt would fade away instead of eating him alive.

  Barnum said, “Don’t just sit there gaping like a fish. Go after her.”

  “You go after her if you want her so bad,” Levi said. “You’re the one who says she signed a contract and owes you money. That’s nothing to me.”

  Barnum gave him a sly smile. “I’m not the one who’s been playing Lancelot ever since the girl arrived.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Levi said.

  Barnum shrugged. “Only that there’s more than one reason for the girl to stay, and you would likely do a better job of convincing her than I. You
did a better job in the first place—convinced her to swim all the way here from the great white north.”

  “I didn’t,” Levi said. “She came of her own accord, and she’s leaving of her own free will, too.”

  “Still, you wouldn’t like her to disappear into the ocean and never return, would you? How can all your dreams come true then?”

  Levi flushed. He truly thought he’d done a better job of disguising his feelings. If Barnum had noticed (especially since Barnum noticed nothing that was not related to dollars and cents), then everyone had, including Amelia.

  He burned at the thought that she knew he longed for her and had politely ignored it.

  Then he realized he didn’t want her to go. Barnum was right, and Levi hated that Barnum was right. It didn’t matter if Amelia knew how he felt—he couldn’t let her disappear into the ocean forever without at least trying to make her stay.

  All of a sudden he was up and out and after her, but not so fast that he didn’t catch Barnum’s self-satisfied smile.

  * * *

  • • •

  Amelia didn’t bother taking anything. She walked out of the dining room and out of the hallway and out of the front door and into the night wearing only the dress and shoes she’d arrived in.

  Barnum did not own her. Barnum could not dictate to her. Barnum could not keep her from diving into the harbor and swimming away, swimming as far as Fiji if she wanted.

  No ship could find her if she did not want to be found.

  That poor woman. She kept thinking it over and over, kept remembering the horror of finding the bloodied broken thing that used to be a person in one of the side aisles. How had nobody else noticed her? How could they have not seen?

  That woman would always be with her now, trailing behind her like a ghost.