Sea Foam and Silence

by Lynn E. O'Connacht

  And know that they are still hands.

  Not yet sea foam.

  I even dance,

  But only briefly.

  My heart is not in it

  And it makes me want to cry.

  This is how my night passes,

  In fits and starts until dawn creeps

  Up from the horizon and the Witch,

  At last,

  Speaks.

  “Oh, my darling sister.”

  She smiles again, but it is a smile

  Like sunshine, like rainbows.

  Warm and gentle and sudden.

  And brief.

  The warmth stays

  And I fear that I will become sea foam as the sun

  Touches the edge of the water.

  But nothing happens.

  I look at the Witch,

  Not understanding.

  “If you cannot find love within a year,

  You will turn to sea foam.”

  That is what she says.

  That is what she said.

  “I am not sea foam.”

  “No. You are not.”

  “I am not sea foam?”

  I ask it now, uncertain. “Why?”

  The Witch laughs. “Oh, my sister.

  You found love, didn’t you?”

  I frown, think about it,

  Then I, too, smile.

  Tall-crabs cannot move

  The way a mermaid can.

  They are tethered to the ground,

  And can only go sideways.

  Even when they go up, they

  Are tethered to the ground.

  It is why they need the moving land

  To travel across the sea.

  Their love is tethered,

  Bound to them as they are to the ground

  And I was caught in it,

  Just as much and just as strongly.

  Love is like a mermaid

  Swimming freely in the sea.

  I will not become sea foam.

  And the Witch slips over the railing

  As I hear the door to the cabin open.

  It has been four months,

  Since I should have become sea foam.

  I have still not become sea foam.

  There are days when I cannot believe it. :/

  Our ship has made it

  Beyond the endless

  And has sailed to meet the princess

  Whom my prince will marry.

  We are stranded here

  While the winter passes.

  Apparently it was a terrible idea

  For my prince to go sailing off

  To meet the princess now.

  We should have encountered icy storms

  And we should have sunk beneath the waves.

  Become sea foam, each and every one of us,

  But we arrived safely.

  I thank the Sea Witch every day

  For that generosity.

  I am glad of clothes, here,

  Of the furs that line my hood

  And keep me warm

  When I am outside.

  My feet still hurt when I walk,

  But they no longer bleed.

  I am sure the physician will be delighted

  When I have returned home with my prince.

  I have not seen much of my prince.

  He spends his time hiding from everyone,

  Even the princess he came here to meet.

  Even me, who has no power to make him marry

  And no reason to ask him whether he will.

  So lonely.

  It is too cold here.

  I venture out as much as I can,

  As I dare.

  I am scared of the people,

  So close together, so noisy.

  The beach is cold,

  And the wind unfriendly,

  But.

  It is freedom.

  The inlands are fields

  Of snow and ice,

  No more welcoming

  Than the frothy sea.

  But it too is freedom.

  No one accompanies me.

  Not often. So I am alone. :(

  Perhaps I should try

  To meet the people here

  Like I did when I first came

  To my prince’s castle and

  Ventured into town.

  It may not be so bad. ^_^

  I have met the princess!

  I think I’ve spent more time with her

  Than my prince has.

  She is a few years older than me,

  I think. Tall-crab time is still confusing.

  Her hair is as long as mine

  And shines like the sun.

  It is always braided,

  Crowning her face.

  I like her. ^_^

  When we met,

  She hugged me and called me ‘sister’.

  Like me, she enjoys dancing

  And walking along the beach.

  She fishes!

  We are not fishing now.

  We are merely walking,

  Picking our way along the rocks

  And the cliffs as the wind sings around us.

  We talk a lot about my prince,

  The princess and I.

  She has tried to teach me how to braid

  My hair like hers as we do,

  But I am still not interested in learning.

  I think it disappoints her,

  But I am happy to tell her about my prince

  Or to learn how to speak more clearly.

  The princess has learned how to speak

  With her hands when she was very little

  Because her mother, too, could only speak

  With her hands.

  I soak up her teaching

  And relish in the ability

  To be understood.

  I talk to her about

  My prince’s sketches

  And how he still has not shown me

  The ones that he has made of me.

  I tell her about the sea,

  And the best places to find food

  And how to improve tall-crab nets

  To catch more fish.

  I do not tell her they are also safer

  For my sisters below the waves.

  I still miss them. :(

  Sometimes when I walk along the beach,

  I think I see them in the distance.

  But they cannot survive the endless

  And I am imagining things. :(

  Perhaps I will see them on the way back home.

  The princess and I walk

  Along the pathway.

  The sky is clear

  And the wind has subsided,

  A little, at least. It is always windy here.

  “Do you like him?” she asks.

  I frown and stop.

  Her hands repeat the question,

  More slowly, as though I didn’t understand. :(

  “Bernhard and I are friends,” I say.

  My prince and I are good friends,

  Though he’s been hiding from the princess.

  I do not tell her that part.

  I don’t think she’d like hearing

  That my prince does not want to marry her. :(

  She sighs.

  I cock my head and think.

  “I like him,” I say. “He is like family.”

  I do not even trip over the word,

  Though my heart still longs to say ‘sister’.

  It is not, quite, the same as a tall-crab family,

  And it is closer to what I mean.

  But I do not have the words to explain

  And I do not have the desire to.

  The princess smiles,

  Just a little.

  “I wish he’d talk to me, Maris.”

  I don’t know how to respond.

  When we return to the princess’s home

  — it is a house, not a castle —

  I seek out my prince.

  He
is hard to find.

  I knew he would be.

  He has become good at hiding

  Since we have landed here.

  I find him in a grove.

  We are not supposed to be there.

  It is a sacred grove,

  But he has entered it anyway

  And sits on the stones with his sketch book.

  I suppose the trees do not mind

  A boy sketching them to find solitude.

  There are no leaves to rustle in the wind

  And snow lies thick on the branches.

  I enjoy snow. ^_^

  I think.

  I do not like the cold,

  But I enjoy playing with it

  And the children here have taught me

  That I can create sculptures with it

  Or throw snowballs at them.

  Even though I do not understand them

  And they do not understand me

  We manage to have a lot of fun

  With the snow. ^_^

  I’ll miss them.

  I do not know how to announce my presence

  Without startling my prince and so I do not try.

  I clap twice, which is what we agreed on,

  And settle myself on the rock beside him.

  He’s cleared it entirely of snow,

  So my skirts do not get wet.

  My prince startles and turns to look at me.

  I take hold of the hand that has the charcoal

  And wrap my own around the blue fingers.

  They feel like the endless, like ice.

  And so I do not speak with him

  That time, because I do not have hands.

  We only sit and, shyly,

  I press myself against his side.

  I, too, am cold. T_T

  It is evening when I tell him

  That the princess would like to get to know him.

  “Not you too,” he sighs.

  “I know. I know. Duty.”

  “You’ll like sketching her.”

  Perhaps he’ll even show her

  His sketches of her when he’s finished.

  I still haven’t seen mine. :(

  “Will I?” My prince sighs again.

  “Tomorrow I’ll go out with you and meet her.”

  I smile at him.

  It is expected, after all,

  That I encourage him.

  It doesn’t feel right,

  But I try to tell him

  About the princess anyway.

  My prince and the princess get along.

  I think everyone breathed a sigh of relief

  When they discovered that.

  It seems I convinced my prince

  To meet with her just in time.

  Our hosts had begun to grumble

  About the discourtesy he was showing.

  It is not like him.

  I am worried. :(

  If he will slight people so

  Then he meant what he said

  About not marrying.

  I hope he will change his mind.

  I like these people. ^_^

  I do not want to offend them.

  I do not want him to offend them.

  No one would react well to that. :(

  I wish I’d given my prince

  The pearl that would have changed me

  Back into a mermaid.

  We are having dinner with our hosts.

  I am seated beside my prince.

  Opposite me is the princess.

  She keeps touching her foot against mine,

  So I pull back as much as I can.

  She’s doing it on purpose.

  I glare at her until she stops.

  Because it is dinner

  I have less chance to speak

  Than I might otherwise do.

  It suits me well.

  They let me fish for my own food here

  And I relish the chance to prepare and eat

  What I have caught myself.

  Until I was allowed to fish

  I did not know how much I missed it,

  Missed the hunt and the eating of my own food.

  My prince and the princess

  Are talking about the forests.

  Like me once, she has never seen one,

  And I think my prince enjoys

  Describing the details to someone else.

  It is good too see him enjoying himself. ^_^

  The night is cold.

  Everyone here sleeps

  Packed closely together

  To share body heat.

  It reminds me of my sisters,

  But it is also different.

  There is no order to my sisters

  And here everyone has their place.

  It fills my heart with a strange ache.

  I find myself unable to sleep

  And wander to the fire,

  The embers still warm,

  Never going out entirely.

  It is my prince’s turn

  To watch them.

  I find him huddling

  In a thick coat.

  When I sit down,

  He puts his arm around my shoulder

  And pulls me close.

  He wraps me in the coat

  That is several sizes too large for him still.

  The king has said he’ll grow into it.

  But for now it fits us both.

  Together we watch the dying embers.

  I think I have fallen asleep.

  Movement startles me and

  I am surprised to find the princess

  Nestled against my prince’s other side.

  I have not seen her come.

  I have not felt my prince settle her beside him.

  There is no coat wrapped around her.

  We do not talk.

  Not one of us says a word.

  Not for ages.

  Not until the princess says

  That we should go to bed

  Before the others wake

  And find us huddled together.

  Reluctantly,

  I leave.

  The princess follows me

  And we settle in our beds.

  I can’t sleep.

  “Here.”

  My prince holds out

  A piece of paper.

  Several pieces of paper.

  I take them gingerly.

  It takes me a while to realise

  That they’re the sketches he’s made

  Of me.

  I smile at him.

  I would say ‘thank you’,

  But my hands are full

  And I can only put the pages

  On the ground where the wind

  Will blow them away.

  I do not want to repay his gift this way.

  His skill is… I think it is well-done?

  I have found paintings quite boring,

  There is too much stillness to them,

  But I have wanted to see how my prince sees me

  And I can see myself

  In the lines my prince has drawn. ^_^

  I hug him.

  Carefully both because of the sketches

  And because my prince is not a hugging person.

  He does not mind it when I

  Rest my head on his shoulder,

  Or nestle my body against his,

  But hugging… He is not fond of that.

  “It’s been a year since

  We found you in the water,”

  He tells me.

  I had forgotten.

  “I wanted to surprise you with them.”

  He smiles, shyly, and his cheeks dimple.

  They only dimple when he’s uncertain. ^_^

  I let him go and look at him,

  Try to speak with just one hand.

  I can say the important words: thank you.

  My prince tells everyone

  That it is my birthday.

  And there is a great celebration.

 
I flee into the sacred grove,

  Away from the press of people,

  So unexpectedly seeking me out.

  There, I find the princess.

  “Maris!” Her face is like the sun,

  Come peeking from behind storm clouds.

  I back away a little,

  But she stays where she is.

  “Is it your birthday?” she asks.

  She is giddy and restless,

  Shifting from one foot onto another,

  Impatient with something.

  I wonder what.

  I respond ‘yes’

  Because I cannot tell her

  That I do not know when my birthday is.

  “The elders say it is auspicious

  That your birthday falls now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you share it

  With a great warrior!”

  The princess launches into a tale

  Of a warrior queen who battled sea monsters

  And who defeated great evils

  Before succumbing to old age

  And dying in battle with the great serpent

  That lived in the island’s tallest mountain. O_O

  Somewhere during the telling,

  I have dropped onto a rock

  And started to stare at her.

  I have not heard stories like this before!

  “And love?” I ask

  When the princess stops to draw breath.

  She is not a skilled teller, but she’s enthusiastic. ^_^

  At my question, she brightens

  And forgets to speak with hands.

  “Dagmar had a shieldsister,” the princess breathes.

  “They were separated by the serpent,

  But they were reunited in death and now they

  Rule the realms of the dead together.”

  She falls silent, but only for a moment.

  “Be my shieldsister, Maris.”

  O_O

  I stare at the princess.

  She is standing very still,

  Like a tree, like the trees behind her.

  “What is a… shieldsister?” I ask.

  I don’t know whether I’ve said it right.

  The princess was not speaking with hands

  And I don’t know how to say it.

  I hope she will understand. >>

  It is her turn to stare.

  She gapes at me then clears her throat.

  She shakes herself and says, “A companion.”

  “Then I am Bernhard’s shieldsister?”

  I know it is not a question,

  But it seems more polite to treat it as such.

  The princess looks crestfallen,

  But only for a moment.

  “We can be his shieldsisters together!”

  It would be nice to have a sister again. ^_^

  “We should talk to Bernhard!”

  I tell her he’s likely

  To be hiding in a cave.

  There’s one not too far

  From the grove we’re in

  And I found him there a few days ago.

  He kept talking about the lighting.

  “He’s in the mirror cave?”

  I shrug. I do not know

  What the cave is called.

  I only know it is probably

  Where my prince has gone.