“This is no trick. I have to leave you behind because you can’t keep up yet. I have to go. She’s in trouble.” He gave me one final glance; he took my face into his hand and gently brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “I promise I’ll come back for you. I’m so sorry, I have to protect her.”
He barely made a splash when dove into the water.
There I was, alone on a cliff over looking the setting sun and the Gulf of Taranto.
“Oh……no…….” I whispered. My head felt light and I leaned against a large boulder for support. My vision grew blurry and my heart raced. Blacking out, I relived my father’s death yet again though that time I could see the monster’s familiar eyes. I felt like I trusted those eyes, like I had seen them before, like they would protect me but instead they were attached to a monster that was killing my father.
When I woke, I couldn’t move. I was belted to a board with large foam padding surrounding my head and body. A man wearing a green jumpsuit and a white helmet stood next to me, sending hand signals to an awaiting helicopter, a spotlight shined down on us and he was shouting to me in a different language.
“Sei al sicuro.” He yelled over the thumping of the helicopter blades. “Lo son il tenente Enzio, Italiano Guardia Costiera. Devo portarti in ospedale.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.” I yelled back. “What are you doing? Let me go.”
“Ah, you speak-a English. A little bit, I speak-a English.” He shouted with a thick accent. “You safe now. My…eh…name-a Lieutenant Enzio, Eh…Italian Coast-a Guard.”
“NO. NO. Don’t take me anywhere. I’m waiting for my friend to come back.” I tried to struggle but it was useless, I couldn’t move. “I am safe here. Let me out of this thing.”
“RELAX-a. ALL GOOD.” He gave me a large white smile and thumbs up. “You go for ride to-a hospital.”
There was no arguing with Lieutenant Enzio. I supposed it looked quite peculiar that a woman was passed out on the side of a cliff. I could see how he thought he was helping. He waved to the helicopter and a long cord with metal hooks came down—he grabbed it. He attached the hooks to the board I was strapped to and gave a tug and thumbs up.
As I was lifted into the air, I thought about Joseph and wondered where he was and if he reached Nasani in time to protect her from the invisible threat.
The board I was on reached the red and white helicopter and I could read the words GUARDIA COSTIERA in bold letters along the side. Another man was in the helicopter and pulled me in. He then unhooked the board so he could send the line back down to the Lieutenant waiting on the cliff. Once he was inside the helicopter, they slammed the door and we took off. Three men dressed in green jumpsuits and wearing white helmets, spoke to each other in Italian.
One man moved closer. His English was much better though he still had a thick accent. “How are you feeling, Miss? Do you feel any pain in your body?” He belted himself in next to me, took his helmet off and grabbed a clipboard. He began writing things; he looked at his wristwatch and shouted something to the other men. Lieutenant Enzio belted himself into a seat opposite me. He took his helmet off; his thick black hair was a mess of curls. He had blue eyes that squinted a little when he smiled.
“I’m fine.” I said, irritated. “Can you please take some of these straps off?”
The two men glanced at each other then back to me. Together they refused. Then Lieutenant Enzio explained in his broken English that the shackles were for my own good, while the other man checked my pulse and blood pressure. He then promised to set me free, with a doctor’s approval, as soon as we landed at the hospital.
“I’ll hold you to that promise.” I assured him then laughed at his use of the word shackles.
He gave a gentle laugh as well. “My English need-a help. No? I help-a you, now you help-a me. Maybe you teach-a me good English?”
I couldn’t help but blush a little with embarrassment. “Sure.”
“So you-a promise.” He winked.
The other man had finished taking my temperature. While he was recording the vitals on his clipboard, he asked for my full name and country of residence.
“Seraphin Olivia Shedd, United States of America.” I answered.
“Siete sdraiati?” He said in Italian.
“What?” I asked.
“Sorry. Are you lying?” He looked up from his clipboard and stopped writing to stare at me. Then he gestured for Lieutenant Enzio to bring him a different clipboard with a thick stack of paper attached to it. He flipped through the pages; each had a large photo. He stopped at one. “Non posso credere! Ella è la ragazza mancanti dall'America.”
Lieutenant Enzio glanced several times from the clipboard to me then casually said, “She is-a missing no more.”
He held the clipboard over me so I could see it clearly. “Is this you?” It was my employee photo from CORE with a single red word printed above it SCOMPARSA.
“Yes.” I cringed as I stared back at the worst photo I had ever taken.
“You are the missing girl everyone has been looking for. We all assumed you were dead. How did you end up on the side of a cliff?” He went back to writing on his clipboard; Lieutenant Enzio got on the radio and called someone. I could understand my name and America as he spoke to the person on the other end.
I was internationally known as a missing person? It was so embarrassing. How was I going to explain being under the sea floor with a couple of merpeople for a month? “I don’t know.” I suppose it wasn’t lying. I still didn‘t know how my life had taken that strange turn.
“You don’t know?” He questioned back. “How is it that you don’t know?”
I repeated myself. “I don’t know. I just want to go home. Can you take me home?”
“We will get you home-a Miss.” Lieutenant Enzio was calmer and placed his hand on mine.
I realized that despite the unfortunate situation I had fell into, it was probably going to end with me being back on Briarwood Court. I let out a small smile and sighed a bit of relief. Above all else, I just wanted to go back to Maine.
The Guardia Costiera men took me to a hospital in Taranto, Italy where they established that I was in amazingly good health. Thanks to Joseph, I thought. Lieutenant Enzio kept his promise and freed me from the safety board as soon as he had the doctor’s clearance. Since the hospital wanted to keep me for a few days—he asked if he could stop in and see me the next afternoon for an English lesson. I told him I didn’t mind.
It wasn’t long before I became an international sensation. After just a few hours, guards were placed at my hospital room door to keep the media out and I was no longer permitted to walk freely around the hallway. Apparently, everyone wanted to know ‘the story’ of how a girl survived a shipwreck and 30 days at sea.
The following afternoon Lieutenant Enzio showed up at my door, flashing his Guardia Costiera identification badge to the guards outside the room. I almost didn’t recognize him without his uniform. He was dressed in a simple light-blue button-down shirt that was not tucked into his relaxed jeans. In his hands be held a bright bouquet of wild flowers—a peculiar mix that I had never seen before. The most interesting was a tulip shaped bloom with pointed petals and a red velvety leaf.
For an hour we exchanged words in our respective languages. He brought a list of words and phrases he wanted translated. Since I didn’t know how to speak or read Italian, it was difficult to communicate with him. He would stand up and act out a scene or draw a picture to help—when he did this, we both laughed freely at the silliness of the situation.
“How you say ‘sirena’ in-a English?” He turned serious and sat beside me on the bed.
“Do you mean ‘sirens’ like an emergency vehicle? An ambulance?” I asked.
“No. I mean ‘sirena’. I show you.” He leaned over my legs—tucking the white sheet that covered me under them.
I tried to guess what he was doing. “Are you tucking me in?”
He put his finger up. “
Un minuto.”
Then he moved closer to my upper thighs and I grew uncomfortable. “Excuse me!” I put my hands on his and he simply smiled and moved back down to my calves. When he got to my feet, he took a blanket off of the chair in the corner and began folding and shaping it. His body was in my way and I couldn’t tell what he had done until he moved away from the bed. To my horror, he had fashioned a mermaid tail out of the blankets. A white tail encased my legs and feet.
“So—” He waited.
“So what?” I asked.
“Sirena?” He asked innocently.
It took several minutes for me to speak. Did he know what I was? Was this some kind of coincidence? I wanted to jump out of the hospital bed and run—but to where?
He waited patiently with a large smile across his face.
“Mermaid.”
“Ah, YES. A mer-a-maida!”
“Why do you want to know that word?” The suspicion in my voice was hard to hide.
The large smile returned as he traced his hands down my legs.
“You’re creeping me out Lieutenant.”
“Creeping?”
“You’re making me uncomfortable.” I clarified, hoping he could translate that.
“Oh. So sorry.” He withdrew his hands. “I know-a you; is what I say.”
Was he saying that he knew I was a mermaid? I still cringed at the silliness of the word. I was fantasy; mermaids were not real. My mind was having a problem processing the fact that I was something that was considered daydream; make-believe; supernatural.
“You know me how?” The language barrier was proving troublesome.
“I know-a you—you are like me.”
“I don’t follow. How am I like you Lieutenant?”
“Seraphin, please—I am Gianni.”
I shifted away from him, frightened of what he meant. Deep down I knew what he was saying and I searched my mind for any slip-up I might have made indicating that I was part fish. “How then, Gianni, are we alike?”
“I am a tritone.” He said, low—glancing at the door as he did so.
“I don’t know what that means.” Though, it didn’t take long for my mind to make the connection to the Mythological, conch shell carrying; son of Poseidon—Triton.
A simple smile crossed his face and he leaned into me. “You-a know.”
I nodded my head. Yes, I knew the meaning. He was telling me that he was a merman, which was just as absurd as my being a mermaid. How many of us were there? “Lieut—Gianni, I’m new to this.”
“I don’t know what you say.” He struggled to understand.
Pointing to the blanket tail that still surrounded my legs; I said the word ‘new’ again. Hoping he would recognize that I was not a veteran mermaid.
“Ah—I see. Bambino sirena.”
I knew that bambino meant baby. I laughed and nodded my head again.
“How?” He asked with a look of concern on his face. “Your mamma and papa not tell-a you?”
“No mamma and papa.” I looked away from his puzzling eyes.
“I see,” he was still full of worry, “you-a have friend-a?”
“You? Yes. We are friends, I suppose.”
“No. You-a have friend-a. Missing friend-a—I read in the news—the man.”
A smile crossed my face. He was talking about Joseph. “YES! My friend Jay Mason is still missing.”
He frowned. “No. No Jay Mason—Joseph Merrick. He no tell-a you name?”
“I know his name. How do you know his name?”
“Joseph Merrick no friend-a Seraphin—no friend-a Gianni—only friend-a Joseph Merrick.”
The language barrier was frustrating—though his message was quite clear.
I remained silent, only shaking my head—trying to process what he was saying. Obviously, he thought very little of my friend Joseph Merrick—should I as well? What made me think Joseph was my friend? He saved me—but why? Gianni saved me too, after Joseph left me stranded on a cliff.
Finally he spoke again. “I leave you to think.”
“Okay.” I wanted to be alone. “Gianni, thank you.”
Bending down, he took my hand. “You-a nice girl. If you-a need me—find me. I’a easy to find—ask around.”
ELEVEN
When the hospital discharged me, I was sent immediately to the American Embassy where a representative assured I would be on the next flight to Maine. However, before she could book a flight to the States, the Managing Director of Coastal Oceanic Research Expeditions called to say that they had chartered a private jet to bring me home. I felt uneasy about it but the Embassy representative persuaded me into accepting the ride due to the amount of media attention I was bound to receive on a public flight.
I was interviewed by two different representatives at the Embassy, a representative from CORE that flew with me on the Jet, three FBI agents before I could leave the airport in Maine and the cab driver on the ride home. I told them all the same story of how I got washed into the sea the night the storm hit the John F. Kennedy. I told them I didn’t know how I got on the cliff in Italy. I told them I didn’t know what I ate or where I slept or why I was so healthy. I lied to everyone and I felt lousy about it but I knew that if I told the truth, no one would believe me. The last thing I wanted was more psychological evaluations; I had quite enough of those in my life.
Finally after a full 72 hours from the time Joseph told me to wait for him on the cliff, the cab driver pulled into the driveway at 504 Briarwood Court. The Gran Torino was still parked in the driveway. A thick layer of dirt covered the usual shiny coat. I ran my finger down the side of it, wondering if anyone in the neighborhood knew what had happened.
My question was answered when I turned on the television. How could anyone NOT know what happened? Plastered all over the news was my CORE employee photo. Again, I cringed when I saw it. I looked half asleep with shadowy circles under my eyes; it was the image the world would remember. My 15 minutes of fame stunk. The anchors on the screen discussed me in the typical over-hyped news fashion. “MERMAID GIRL” was the headline that caught my attention on one of the national news channels. I listened as the anchor interviewed several medical specialists asking them the same questions, “How did this girl survive?” And “Does she have amnesia?”
For a moment I hated Joseph. It wasn’t his fault I was a mermaid, but it was his fault that I was found on the side of a cliff nearly 5000 miles from home. Maybe Gianni was right.
The news anchors then went on to speculate the possibility that the other lost crewman, Jay Mason could be found alive. They reported that the Italian Guardia Costiera was patrolling the area in hopes of finding him. Then flashed Joseph’s CORE employee photo, across the bottom of the screen—the caption read, ‘STILL MISSING-Jay Mason‘. My heart sank when I looked into those cobalt eyes on the screen. I finally turned it off when the tight-faced over-powdered news anchor made the joke, “Maybe she’s a mermaid.” A round of laughter ran through the news studio.
Good thing I didn’t tell the truth.
That night I thought a great deal about Joseph and Gianni. Lost in the shock of what he said, I failed to ask Gianni how he knew Joseph. Though, it would have been difficult for him to explain due to the language barrier. It seemed impossible that there were more of us—more fish people living normal lives. Hiding from society in plain sight—it didn’t seem like the greatest way to live. Their lives cloaked by lies.
Regardless, I was delighted to be home—away from the questions and the doubting. I knew that eventually I would have to face a changed reality. However, at that moment, I wanted to feel protected by my ordinary existence and far away from Joseph’s complicated life.
There was no denying my life was slightly more intricate. Questions about my family and the past swirled in my head. It was difficult to sort through. Who was my mother? Did my father know she was a mermaid? Is that why she left us? Nothing added up. He hid my life from me. I knew why too, because it was ridiculous to th
ink a human being could be part fish. Such things did not exist but I was living proof of the contrary.
Thinking of my father made me recount the poem. So much was a mystery.
Where the land lay low,
the seeds best grow;
let die the life I hide from you.
Protect you, as a father must,
into that world you’ll not be thrust.
I tried to decipher its meaning. The first few lines were elusive. We never had a garden to speak of, a few flowerbeds at best. Most of the plants were perennials and my father rarely bothered with the upkeep. Gardening was more my grandmother’s hobby. Before the John F. Kennedy’s demise, the middle line would have puzzled me as well. The life he hid from me was quite obviously the life of a mermaid—an existence I apparently needed protection from; as stated in the fourth line. The world of fish-people was evidently not where he wanted me.
On the flight home, the representative from CORE promised I could have my old job back. The following morning, I went to work. They assured me I would no longer have to clean the research vessels, though I told them that it was not an issue. They had a huge “Welcome Back” gathering in the cafeteria at lunch, which was embarrassing. Mrs. Keyes seemed relieved to see me and explained how she had car trouble the evening of the crew call. She was stuck on the mainland with no means of communication. I told her it was okay, because it was.
The happiest person to see me was Ethan Cottington, which was a little surprising. True, we had become friends in those days leading up to the John F. Kennedy. Even on board he was quite helpful, but unexpected were the bear hugs he greeted me with. It was very different from the hug I gave him on graduation day. I was the one standing with my arms to my sides. Dramatically, he recapped his worry and how he refused to leave the ship. Apparently, the Coast Guard made him, forcing him into the rescue basket and onto the helicopter. He relived, in great detail, the following day and how he so willingly joined the search and rescue teams. They patrolled the area where the John F. Kennedy went down for nearly a week. It felt good to have someone worry and I thanked him for caring so much.
When, at last, he found me. Page 13
