Becoming Mermaids

by Jamie Gann

  Cold skin, cold lake eyes, yes, I can believe it, thought Sam.

  “Anyway, I have to be there at eleven. That’s kind of early for hijinx.”

  “It’s not so early,” muttered Andy. “They empty out at six at the latest, and by seven it’ll be dark.”

  “Coquette, you owe me this.”

  “Why don’t you just swim in the ocean? I don’t understand. You weren’t afraid the night I met you.”

  “I wasn’t about to be trapped out there by a woman who’s trying to get her life back.”

  Coquette frowned. Until now, she’d kept her calculating mind well hidden under a mask of recklessness. But now her work was nearly finished. “I’ll get you in,” she said at last. “It’s up to you two to get yourselves out.”

  Chapter 12: So Dark...

  The second break-in was less fun than the first. Coquette was the life of this particular type of party, but this time she was more preoccupied and less willing to flirt with the possibility of getting caught.

  They decided to skip the wheelchair and let Andy drag her in a sleeping bag, or else carry her. He would park the van near the back door of the aquarium and use his memory of the complex to minimize the distance.

  Their goal was the kelp forest: a huge, glass-paneled fishtank filled with local fish and seaweeds. The aquarium staff, for the sake of their own collection, made sure that the fish in there were not the biting kind.

  The drive was mostly silent. Occasionally, Coquette needled Andy, but with a purpose in mind. “Sam’s got a nice singing voice, doesn’t she?” she said to gauge his reaction. Andy nodded.

  Sam understood what she was getting at. She’d used her siren call on him— sang to him over the phone and altered his mind. He wasn’t like a zombie or anything, but his uneasiness about her mermaid tail had been completely wiped out. He wanted to be with her, whenever he could, just as much as when they first started dating. As far as Sam could tell, though, he was honestly and truly in love.

  She would have felt bad about it if it had changed his personality or taken over his mind completely, but as it was, it was just a booster shot for their relationship. The same might be said of wearing perfume or a subtle eyeliner. Couples have always affected their partners’ emotions, and nobody ever felt that was wrong. That was kind of the point, wasn’t it?

  The same had happened to her during those hours she thought the eggs were her babies— she became fiercely protective; they didn’t seem gross to her at all. All because some motherhood hormone was surging in her. Nature does this all the time. That’s what she reminded herself whenever he started to lose enthusiasm and she gave him a refresher by humming in his ear.

  The parking lot was empty, overlooking the silver bay. The moon bulged more on one side than the other. “Look at that!” Coquette pointed. “Right there! The ocean is right there, and you wanna jump in a fishbowl!” Sam ignored her.

  This lock seemed to take longer than the one on campus. Sam was beginning to worry that Coquette was stalling, making a show of the lock-picking, but eventually the door clicked and Coquette whispered, “There.” It opened. She gestured in a “there you have it,” sort of way. Andy bent at the knees and hoisted Sam’s sleeping bag over his shoulder with her in it.

  The more romantic carrying position— in his arms with her hands around his shoulders— was hard on his back. He could carry her like that over a threshold, across a bedroom maybe, but not a hundred yards. So she made due with the indignity of being carried around like a cavewoman.

  It was in this embarrassing position that she waved good-bye to Coquette. Coquette looked hurt— there was a finality in her eyes that suggested it would be the last time they’d ever see each other. Sam lowered her waving fingers, puzzled. As Andy jauntily carried her down the hall, the rectangle of moonlight and Coquette’s sad expression sank into the distance.

  Andy slowed and balanced himself with his hand on the wall as he approached the exhibit hall. Their entrance was through a back hallway, not meant for the public. When they emerged into the main exhibit space, he just stopped and stared.

  “What?” Sam asked after a while. She was starting to get nervous.

  “Wow, it’s...” He didn’t finish that thought.

  “Turn around, let me see.” Part of the problem with this position was that she could only see what was behind him. He turned carefully and she saw what he was looking at: the nighttime had transformed the aquarium into something magical, illuminated only by the light of the water. It was almost no light at all, just the moonlight that diffused from a skylight down through the kelp and the fishes, and projected wavering lines on everything in the room. Like a stained glass window, constantly moving.

  “How do we get up there?” Sam asked, reminding Andy of their mission.

  “Stairs, I think. Only for scuba divers, not regular visitors. Do you see something that might be a stairway?”

  They tried every “No Access” door they came across. All locked. Perhaps it had been a mistake to go this far without Coquette.

  They might have given up if Andy hadn’t found a door that led to offices and cubicles. Every computer desk was personalized with knick knacks and post-it notes, inspirational calendars, and photos of children and cats. The office staff worked here. Behind the vending machines and the restrooms, they found another stairwell.

  This one led to the second floor, with labs, veterinary offices, and rows upon rows of fish tanks, some containing a sick fish or two, others empty. There were so many of them, they spilled out into the hall, making it dangerous for Andy to carry Sam on his shoulder. She might kick them over with her tail. Instead, he laid the sleeping bag on the floor and dragged her.

  The top of the kelp tank was just another little room with nothing special on the door, but inside, there was a kind of magic to it. Triangular skylights let the moon shine down on the water, which didn’t smell like chlorine but a sweet kind of rot— living water. The soft sounds of Andy’s footfalls echoed differently. The acoustics were affected by the open surface of the water.

  So close to her goal, Sam brushed aside the uneasiness she had felt in Coquette’s last good-bye and allowed herself some measure of giddiness. There were wetsuits and scuba equipment lying casually on metal chairs, in lockers, among the water treatment chemicals, and on the deck by the face of the water itself. In this light, the liquid was entirely opaque, in sharp contrasts of inky black and silvery white. Unseen fish were stirring it up, under the surface.

  Andy rested and massaged his shoulder while Sam crawled out of the sleeping bag. A place like this wouldn’t have security cameras— it was too small, too low-key, not a big attraction like SeaWorld. An old museum dating back to Coquette’s time, which had only one big fishtank— no other exhibits. It was more of an outreach effort by the local oceanography institute than a water park for tourists.

  Sam sat on the edge of the deck and slipped the tip of her tail into the water. It was delicious. Two little fish investigated, then darted away when she twitched. The gemstone dangled in the space between her bikini top and her sternum. She reached behind her neck and took it off, coiling the thin chain into the palm of her hand. “Take this,” she said, handing it to Andy.

  He eyed it suspiciously.

  “Just keep it in your pocket and don’t look at it. I don’t want it to come off accidentally.” She could just imagine it sinking thirty feet to the bottom of the aquarium, getting lost in the gravel, where she’d have to search for it, desperately, in the dark.

  He still didn’t take it.

  “Come on,” she cooed, then hummed a haunting melody that echoed cavernously in the small room. His hand was shaking when he touched hers, scooping the necklace into his own palm. “Keep it safe,” she whispered, knowing it to be a spell of binding. “And wait for me.” Then she unhooked her bikini top and folded it beside her before easing into the water.

  She went under without a sound. The surface was a mirror both above and below— wha
t she saw as she descended was her own face, looking up at her, sinking into an abyss. Fish swirled around her in widening circles.

  She jumped the first time one of them brushed her with its scales. It was enough to make her lose her breath in a burst of bubbles, rising to meet her reflection. She gasped, taking in the thick water. Having lungs full of water felt at first like congestion, then like a cool drink on a hot day. It diffused from her chest into her extremities. When she exhaled, the water shimmered before her eyes, like she was blowing smoke.

  In her world, she was a dragon.

  She kicked with her tail and darted casually into the flow of fish. They all swam in a roughly clockwise orbit around the tank, winding between the strings of green and black kelp that hung like a bead curtain all the way to the gravel floor. She swayed her tail slowly and let the water stream over her face and neck, her shoulders and breasts, her hips and tail, and into her lungs. Her whole body was tinged with ecstasy.

  As she swam in dense traffic, the other fish often bumped into her, their tails swaying in the same rhythm as her own, all together in harmony. She was beginning to understand why Coquette raved so much about the company of sea life. All the slick bodies and tentacles, the drooping mouths and blank stares that so horrified her in her human state were comforts to a mermaid. They seemed almost a part of her, so much so that when she changed direction, the school of fish turned with her. They’d adopted her into their pack.

  I’m ready, Sam thought. Ready for the ocean. She imagined Coquette proud, then wondered if she would get a chance to tell her to her face.

  Sam swooped low, explored a fake rock-slash-sea cave, raced, and then hung motionless in mid-water, just enjoying the feeling of levitation. So many days weighed down by the tail! That heaviness was not her natural state, this was! A mermaid is a flying creature.

  The one thing that bothered her was the window— the large panel of glass into the exhibit hall, where spectators could watch her swoop and dive. She was satisfied that no one would be out there at this time of night, but nevertheless felt uneasy because the glass was only transparent in one direction. On the inside, the difference in lighting made it like a mirror, and the aquarium furniture was so arranged that there’d be nowhere to hide. Whenever she glanced at the window, she saw her nude, aqualine body, only half-hidden by kelp. She knew that that’s what anyone in the exhibit hall would be seeing, too.

  She nearly choked when she thought she saw the shadow of a man darkening the glass.

  At first, she darted for cover, but the only available refuge was the fake rock in the center of the tank. She could hide her face in its sea cave, but her tail would be sticking out. The shadow on the window didn’t move, just cupped its hands around its eyes to see better. Pressed his nose to the glass. Andy! she realized. Of course! He went downstairs to see her better. Understandable: you couldn’t see much of anything from above. He came down for the show.

  So she came out from hiding to put on a show.

  She flashed past, grazing the glass and scaring him into stumbling backward. For a moment, his shadow was gone, then it returned. She approached the glass more slowly this time, close enough to see his eyes go wide. It was Andy, all right. She pressed herself against the window, palms to his palms, pretending to kiss him through the glass. He kissed back. She had second thoughts about the glass’s cleanliness, but he was only thinking of one thing.

  She pointed up to the surface of the water, gesturing her intent like a scuba diver. He understood and pulled away from the window to return to the stairs. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to do to him, but it was going to involve tearing his clothes off at the very least. She might even take him into the water and make love to him there. That’s when the image suddenly struck her cold.

  Forgot in cruel happiness that even lovers drown.

  It’s true: for a moment, she wanted him screaming bubbles and struggling against her iron grip, sinking down, down into the depths. She’d actually fantasized about killing him. Coquette had predicted it, too: when they first met, she’d said that Sam had the soul of a mermaid. More like the heart of a siren. That’s what Coquette had been preparing her for all this time! That’s why her last good-bye seemed so final— she knew her work was complete.

  No, I won’t let that happen to me, she thought. Sparks of sexual tension were shooting up and down her extended spine, all the way to the fluke of her tail. I have to get rid of this thing! She would dump it on somebody— anybody— just to get her humanity back before she lost it for good. Andy was probably upstairs by now, waiting at the water’s edge. That will have to wait. No more sex as a mermaid.

  Sam broke surface at the edge of the deck. Out in the air, it was suddenly cold and quiet. The sound she was missing was her heartbeat, which echoed loudly in the water, but was strangled by the thinness of the air. No sign of Andy. She tried to whisper his name, but water poured out of her nose and mouth instead, running down her neck. It burned her nose like coughed up milk.

  She tried to speak again, but it came out in gurgles. The sleeping bag was still crumpled on the deck, as was his backpack and her folded bikini top. How long should it take for him to get up the stairs? Without carrying her? Not this long. Maybe he’d locked himself out— or in— some one-way door. She cursed inwardly. He could be such a dope sometimes. What was she going to do if he got himself trapped? She could maybe open the door from the outside, but she’d have to drag herself to get to it. It could be a very long way.

  With a hard kick of her tail, she hoisted herself out of the water, the muted splash echoing in the small room. Out on deck, she regurgitated the rest of the water, careful to spit it out of her mouth, not her nose. She tried calling Andy again, but her voice came as a raspy hiss. Would it ever come back? Did she trade her voice for life at sea?

  Sam waddled to the door as best she could, and arched her back to reach the knob. It swung forward. The hall was empty apart from the aquaria and scientific equipment littering the way. What if her siren’s song had worn off? Did he just realize that she’s been doping him with music, and left in anger? No, she thought. Even if he didn’t love her, he wouldn’t leave her here to get caught.

  Unless some hangover from the siren’s song turned his feelings the other way— made him madly in hate with her.

  Something behind her made a crunching sound. She froze. Turning, slowly, she checked that there was no one else in the room. A fish swallowed a gulp of air, troubling the surface of the pool.

  “Andy, where are you?” she wheezed, barely recognizable as words. Reluctantly, she began her trek down the hallway.

  Sliding her tail on tiled floor could be a little painful. After a few strides, she switched to inchworming. The muscles in the tail bunched up and stretched just far enough to keep her from scraping her scales under her weight. But it was exhausting. She rested.

  She laid herself down beside a short table supporting a big aquarium. It was full of water, but no fish. She rested her face in her hands on the floor and gave in to misery. He wasn’t there, she allowed herself to think. For whatever reason, he wasn’t coming back. She was trapped in his building, trapped in this body. She heaved in sobs, but no tears came out. No relief.

  The door clicked behind her. She didn’t breathe. When she heard footsteps, she swung around to face the man who was carefully following her.

  He was a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard. Turtleneck sweater. His arms were raised in surrender, but his eyes were fixed on her with a kind of laser focus. He wasn’t going to let her go.

  “No,” she croaked, barely audible, but the man heard it.

  “What’s that?”

  “Stay away from me,” she wheezed.

  “You can talk?”

  She didn’t nod. Just stared.

  “Oh,” he said to himself. “That’s going to make it so much harder.”

  Sam thrashed and tried to slide away, but her tail caught on the leg of the table and knocked it ove
r. Two hundred gallons of pH-balanced water fell on her, breaking the glass over her forehead. It didn’t knock her out— she continued to struggle— but she was so bewildered from the impact and the loss of blood that it was all a blur as her wrists were bound, a towel was tied snug around her head, and she was loaded into the back of a truck like a fish brought to market.

  Chapter 13: Dirtyfishydishcloth

  Sam woke in a hospital bed, but not in a hospital. The room was a laboratory, with the kinds of sinks and built-in gas faucets she recognized from chemistry class, but it was also an office. There were spiral bound conference proceedings, stacks of paper, a mini-fridge, an ancient computer (you could hear its fan), fishtanks of various sizes, a very large, empty one on the floor, skeletons, and a hospital bed with Sam in it. The man who had kidnapped her was sleeping in his office chair.

  Very carefully, Sam checked her wrists— they were unbound— and tried to slip out of the bed. It had a metal fence intended to keep restless sleepers from falling out accidentally. Trying to lower it gently, she made a squeak that woke her abductor.

  “Oh,” he said, reaching for his glasses. “You’re up. No, don’t do that. Here, let me help.”

  Sam braced herself for a fight. She also tried to cover her breasts with her elbows. “Where am I?”

  “You’re losing your bandage.” He reached for her forehead and she slapped his arm away. “You don’t want that to come undone,” he said.

  She felt it herself. There was a lump under the cloth, and it stung to touch it.

  “There’ll likely be a scar. Which is a pity.”

  “What is this place? Why do you have me here?” With her throat free of seawater, her voice came out easily.

  “Goodness! You’re absolutely fluent!”

  Sam blinked. Then, screaming at the top of her lungs, she demonstrated just how many words she knew.

  “Calm down, calm down!” the man insisted, hands still up in a submissive gesture. “We’ll figure this all out when we come to it. First things first.” He took a breath, like he was going to ask a question, but instead said, “What a remarkable creature you are!”

  She flipped him her middle finger.