When, at last, he found me.

by Adrianna Stepiano

  Memoir of a Mermaid: When, At Last, He Found Me

  By Adrianna Stepiano

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  Copyright text and images 2012 by Adrienne Stepaniak

  First eBook Edition published by Adrienne Stepaniak: January 2012

  ISBN: 978-1-4524-5568-6

  For Tyler and Isabel

  Let your imagination forever be untamed.

  After the summer I had, I’m finding it difficult to receive normality. My mind, heart, and body are so very different compared to when May flowers were first in bloom. The Earth calls to me but I refuse to listen for it is not the wandering life that I desire. Roots strong enough to hold when the tide pounds the land are the things I seek.

  I write, not to document but rather to be convinced of the impossible net reality has tangled me in.

  -S.O.S

  ONE

  A feeling of awareness is the only way to describe it. When my head clears from all the daily nothingness and for a moment I know. I know. I KNOW—that I exist and that one day I will no longer exist; at least not in the flesh. I’m sure most people have similar moments of clarity. It’s the random seconds where life seems real—implausibly existent.

  It used to happen only when the thought of death crossed my mind. Then, it started happening more frequently. When I became angry or upset—overwhelmed or confused; my mind would turn off. It literally went into total shutdown mode. Calling it an inconvenience was putting it lightly.

  Things didn’t begin to turn around until the day of my high school graduation. I was forcing myself upon the day. Not only did I want it to be over, I wanted it to be different. And in many ways it was.

  The temperature was a scorching 98 with 70% humidity, which was unseasonably hot for Maine in June—a side effect of global warming, no doubt. I regretted, almost immediately, wearing my hair down. It is thick and to make matters worse, it’s dark brown. I was sweltering.

  As I stood in line waiting behind the students with last names beginning A thru S—I grew anxious. Stress filled my thoughts when I caught a glimpse of the onlookers. A fast wind whipped through the football stadium. A few students lost their caps to its strength. I gripped the brim of mine. The wind was out of place but I didn’t notice, I was too focused on what was about to occur. I began to silently panic.

  The moment of awareness washed over me. I tried to ground myself to the situation. Everything is fine. Settle down; settle down; settle down. I repeated the words in my head; unconvincingly. Nothing was fine. It was the beginning of the rest of my life and I knew naught where it was going.

  The beating of my heart was all I could hear. Stars began to cloud my vision and my head grew light. The last thing I wanted to take place that day—in front of all those people—was happening and I could do very little to control it. My consciousness began to fade and I fell.

  The blackouts started soon after my father died. Looking back, it all makes perfect sense but at the time, it was simply unbearable. Sadly, these meant more than just waking up humiliated. It was also inevitable that I had to endure the worst day of my life once more. While I was out cold, one scene played like a movie clip in my brain—leaving me clues to a seemingly endless mystery.

  The memory was clear; I stood on the beach talking to my friend whose name I don’t even recall. She already knew I was not permitted to go into the ocean but still she dared.

  “Leaving information out isn’t lying. Seraphin, if you don’t tell your Dad that you went in the water, how will he know?”

  “He said he would know. Besides, I don’t want to go in the water, the waves are too high and the tide is coming in.” This was the same excuse I used a thousand times but the truth was, deep down, I didn’t want to disobey my father’s wishes.

  “I’m leaving, my Grandma should be home soon and she’ll be upset with me if she knew I was here.”

  “You are so boring.” My friend said.

  I watched myself stand up, but instead of climbing the steep hill to my house, I walked towards the ocean. My friends began to cheer when they realized what I was doing. My heart was racing with excitement and so was the water—wave after wave pounded at the sand. The sound of the water was calling.

  My foot touched the fresh wet sand and I knew there was no turning back. I was going to deliberately disobey my father. He told me countless times to stay out of the ocean, saying it was too dangerous.

  I let the water wash over my toes as it pulled for me to go further. I spoke confidently, trying to hide the fact that I was terrified. “What’s the big deal anyway? I’m ten now and I’m a great swimmer. I should be allowed to have fun.” Then, I did it—I dove into an oncoming wave—with near perfect form, I might add. I felt my body move through the heavy salt water. I remember feeling alive that very moment—all my senses were heightened—I could have stayed under the surface forever but instead I resurfaced. The not-so-great friends cheered at my defiance.

  Now, I knew very well that I was going to get in a heap of trouble when my father found out. At the time I thought it lucky that he was out of town that day for work. I thought I had at least 24 more hours of freedom before he grounded me—for the rest of my life. If only that had been the case—I would give anything to hear him holler. Instead, reality played in my unconscious mind.

  My faulty friend so graciously reminded me of how much trouble I was going to be in. “You are so gutsy Seraphin. I would never go against your Dad. He’s intimidating.”

  “Well, luckily he’s out of town and won’t know.” I said, knowing perfectly well that wasn’t true.

  Then, I decided I was going to confess—right then—while I stood waist deep in the Atlantic Ocean. I called out my father’s name. “Samuel Shedd, look at me, I am in the OCEAN!” At the mention of my father’s name, I had a dark feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Then, I could actually hear his panic stricken voice in my head. “Seraphin, get out of the water!”

  I knew I had to do what he said. Somehow I knew that both he and I were in danger. I could feel the threat. It was too late though—there was nothing I could do. I tried to swim towards the shore but my body grew heavy and weak. My arms and legs were impossible to move. My friends were shouting and running to the water.

  “Seraphin, Seraphin!” They were screaming.

  “Seraphin, Seraphin, are you with us?” The Superintendent was staring down at me, along with roughly 1500 people set up in rows of metal folding chairs on the football field. The band had stopped playing Pomp & Circumstance and a baby was crying. A man sneezed which caused a skittish woman in the front row to flinch.

  As if that moment was shocking to anyone; I was considered a freak at that school and I had been for eight long years.

  Just like always, humiliation was at its peak. I slowly got to my feet, nodding to the Superintendent. It was a small gesture to let him know that my mind had returned to its rightful place, the present. Into the microphone he spoke with a hint of disgust, Seraphin Olivia Shedd.

  The football stadium was silent. With a deep breath I crossed the stage to accept my diploma.

  Just like my grandmother had planned, an attorney was waiting. He handed over the key to the Shedd family estate. I held up my end of the agreement. Before my Grandma passed away I promised her I would not live alone
until school was finished. I may not have known where my life was headed but I knew one thing, after 5 months, I was finally going home.

  “Ms. Shedd, it was a pleasure doing business with you and your grandmother.” The attorney shook my hand. “Congratulations.”

  It may sound strange that a girl of only 18 wanted nothing more than her family estate but it was true. I didn’t know it at the time—maybe it was subconscious—but that house was more than just a place to hang my hat.

  I had been living with the Cottington family. Grandma was my last surviving relative, before she died, she asked Gomer Cottington and his wife Mara to make sure I was taken care of until after graduation. They kept their promise. Gomer was a friend to my father and he was always very welcoming. Unfortunately, he took a job in Detroit and had to relocate soon after I moved in. Sadly, his wife, who felt no obligation to care for me and only harbored resentment, was forced to stay behind on my account.

  Mara was anything but pleasant. She had been packing with a firm departure date of that very day. There was no hiding the fact that she was ecstatic to finally be rid of me. It was surprising to not hear her cheering from the bleachers when I crossed the stage. She could barely contain her excitement earlier that morning as I carried my bags out to the car. Although, she probably didn’t want someone to realize she was with me. Those public displays of instability on my part were enough to drive anyone away. Honestly, I can’t say I would lay claim to myself if put in the same situation. Perhaps, I shouldn’t have been so hard on her. Conceivably, under different circumstances, I was somewhat sure she would have been more welcoming.

  I still had not made up my mind about the Cottington’s son, Ethan. Mara made it impossible for us to get to know each other. I searched the crowd for him, worried he would leave before I had a chance to say goodbye.

  He found me first. “Phin, my Mom wants to make sure you have everything from our house.” Ethan shouted as he ran down the bleachers to where I stood.

  “Yes, I have everything in my car. Tell your Mom thanks and have a safe trip.” I leaned in, giving him a hug. It seemed like the right thing to do, but I was wrong. He awkwardly kept his arms down. Immediately, I regretted my demonstration of friendliness. It was the first time I had ever shown him any affection and it was every bit as strange as I thought it would be.

  “I told you this morning, I’m finding a way out of this move. I’ll be 18 in December and then I won’t have to live with them.” Ethan, unlike his mother, did not intend on moving away from Maine.

  “Your Mom is leaving now. I think you’ve run out of time.”

  “Nah, I have to find Ms. Z.” He looked over my head, into the crowd. “I’ll see you around.”

  Even though I lived with Ethan, I really didn’t know him. We didn’t hang out with similar crowds. Actually, the truth was, he had friends and I didn’t. The guy was nice enough, but hardly ever around. When he was home, he locked himself in his man-cave of a bedroom and only came out for food. I got the feeling that he didn’t like his parents very much and I couldn’t blame him, his mother was like talking to a raging bull. At school, he was always surrounded by football players and swooning girls. I couldn’t figure out why they swooned over him either. In my opinion, his head was too square and his face was too flat. He looked just like Mara and that drove me away, for obvious reasons.

  The field cleared and the student volunteers were almost done folding up the chairs, but for some reason I felt it difficult to leave. I sat on the bleachers playing with my car keys for close to an hour. My 1972 black Ford Gran Torino was shining from far across the parking lot. It was my father’s car and he loved it almost as much as he loved me—and he loved me a lot. When I was a kid he would park in the furthest, most remote parking spot in an attempt to protect it from door dents. It was silly to me but I felt I must do the same since it was all I had of him.

  I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I stood a few times but sat back down. I was suddenly scared to go home to an empty house.

  Luckily a voice came up behind me. It was the voice of a friend. This was perhaps the only person that seemed to care for me despite my social awkwardness. A smile crossed my face when I heard her speak.

  “Congratulations on your graduation Ms. Shedd.” I turned to find Ms. Doreh Zebedee, my biology teacher whom I adored and who everyone lovingly referred to as ‘Ms. Z’. It sounds sad but she was probably my best friend and that’s not saying much because I only saw her at school.

  In her arms was a large box overflowing with books. I remembered that Ethan had been looking for her and wondered why, but decided not to bring it up. “Thanks. Can I carry those for you?” I asked.

  “Why do you think I came over here? As always, I have motives. I was hoping I could persuade you to help me with some things.” She said with a chuckle and handed me the heavy box of books. She continued to stack additional books from her arms into mine until she was only holding her car keys.

  I followed, struggling to keep up. For such a round little woman she was quite fast. Her short legs took two strides to my one and yet, I was still a few steps behind. A bead of sweat ran down my forehead, dripping onto a hardcover copy of Deadly Ocean; An Educator’s Guide to Adventure. I smiled at the thought of Ms. Z battling sharks armed with nothing more than her yardstick.

  “What is all this stuff?” I asked.

  “You’re not the only one leaving the school this year. I am starting a new job. I have to get everything out of the classroom.” She took the books, tossing them into the back of her already overloaded car.

  My heart dropped. The thought of her not being around had not crossed my mind until that very moment and it was upsetting.

  “Where is your new job? Nearby I hope.”

  She ignored my question and changed the subject, which meant that it was probably not close to Bar Harbor. “What are you still doing here?”

  Pausing for a minute to think, I wasn’t sure what to say. “I was just trying to figure some things out.”

  “Anything I can help with?” She would have been concerned if she knew I was worried to go home. Clearly, it was a busy day for her. My issues didn’t need to cloud her mind.

  “I’m fine. Is there anything left in your classroom or is this the last load?”

  “I have more,” She said with a sigh. “Do you have time to stick around this afternoon?”

  “Sure,” I followed her into the school since the truth was; I had nothing but time. Earlier, all I wanted to do was go home. When faced with the reality, I found myself avoiding it for as long as possible.

  We entered the school through the gymnasium doors, it was empty and our footsteps echoed as we walked across the gym. “We’ll have to cut through the locker room and pool. The floor in the main hall is being polished.”

  “Okay,” I said nervously.

  We reached the pool door and the smell of water and chlorine filled my nose. The air was humid with the slightest scent of mildew. Ms. Z held the door open and I reluctantly stepped into the room. The heavy metal door slammed behind me and immediately I had to hold back a rush of panic.

  Four years earlier was the first and last time I was in that pool. Despite the fact that my 9th grade guidance counselor had been warned about my water phobia, he still put swimming on my schedule. On the first day of swim class, as the rest of the girls gathered, shivering from the cold air and complaining that they were going to get their hair wet, I stood still and silent. Mr. Marsh our swimming instructor ordered everyone into the water. Gripping the edge of the pool tightly, I lowered my body in. At about waist deep, I blacked-out and sank to the bottom. Mr. Marsh had to dive in and save me from drowning. It only took 15 minutes for me to regain consciousness. During that rather short time, he went to my guidance counselor and demanded my schedule be changed. If the counselor had listened in the first place, the whole ordeal could have been avoided.

  “You can’t stay terrified of water forever.” Ms. Z was standing across
the pool deck, her voice echoed around the room. She knew my history. The school district hired her when I was in the 4th grade, the year my father died.

  The water was clear and motionless. The mosaic at the bottom of the pool could be seen in its entirety; the design was created out of green, blue and white tiles. It featured a merman and a mermaid with their backs to each other appearing powerful and confident while battling a sea serpent. Their tails were crossed and their arms outstretched.

  “There is no reason for me to go in water, other than to take a shower.” I stepped closer to the pool, focusing on the mosaic. “Who are they?”

  “They represent the Guardians of the Sea. Do you believe in the Legends of Merfolk?” Ms. Z asked.

  “Do you mean mermen and mermaids?” I laughed a little. “Are you asking if I believe they used to exist?”

  “No.”

  “Good because I was beginning to—”

  She cut me off. “Do you believe they exist in the world we live in today?”

  “Of course not,” feeling the water’s pull. “Can we go to your classroom now?”

  She ignored my request to leave. “The Legend of the Guardians dates back over 3000 years. They, the ones you see featured in this mosaic were the last Guardians and that was almost 500 years ago. They brought great balance to the waters of the Earth. That balance lasted many years but sadly, due to much pollution and corruption in our world, the waters are no longer a peaceful place for marine life.”

  It was the craziest I had ever heard Ms. Z sound. I mean, she was a bit odd most of the time but this was a whole new level. She spoke as if it were all true. Well, I suppose the part about the world being polluted and corrupt was true. Believing in mermaids though, made her sound a bit out of balance.

  She continued. “As you can see in the mosaic, the female Guardian is wearing a carcanet around her neck and the male Guardian has a cuff around his wrist. Both of these relics are said to be the most powerful on Earth and serve to enhance the Guardians already incredible gifts. Neither has been seen for centuries. From what my research tells me they are to be handed down from generation to generation in the form of a family heirloom, not taking their true form until new Guardians seek their power.”