Chapter Twelve
O wen looked like he’d swallowed a jellyfish. His skin alternated between awfully, sickly pale and flushing a bright red. He felt like stale water, and his body was practically limp against mine, nearly crushing me as we walked toward his home.
The siren song wasn’t supposed to affect him like this, but the Pearls had warned me how strong the magic was, and how it impacted each human differently. I wasn’t expecting that I would need to practically carry this man back to his home, but it was a good opportunity nonetheless.
The clock was ticking. I had seven days total to get Owen to fall in love with me and come freely to the ocean. Seven days. Time seemed so short on land when their lives played out under the sun. Time never felt so short in the sea.
Owen and I walked arm in arm. I supported his weight as we moved together, and he stopped here and there to catch his breath. His body was so warm against mine, sweat clinging to his shirt and to me. Owen smelled so good–the scent of his body filled my senses and I wanted to drink it all in.
He pointed to a large, tall building that faced the ocean. Three of the four sides would easily be able to see the shoreline. I wondered what a human home looked like; we didn’t have homes per se. There were caves we stayed in when the tribe traveled between the seasons, and some larger, established ocean-dweller cities, but even those were nomadic. My people built spiraled castles made from shell and rock, and then left them with the change of each season. We moved through all of the oceans, all of the seas, taking only what we needed with us.
The human structures were so sturdy, so permanent. There was no movement, no effervescence to them, like once created this was where a human would stay until their deaths. The thought chilled me, as Owen let us into his building. He tapped a series of buttons until the doors sang a welcoming chime, and he led us to some metal doors. He pushed more buttons, and the doors sprang open to reveal a dull and dingy box.
I did not want to walk into that thing.
“Don’t like elevators? Normally I take the stairs, but I don’t think it’s a good idea today,” he said, finally letting go of me to lean against the wall of the elevator.
“I prefer the stairs too,” I said, not sure how else to respond. So far it seemed like everything I said was appropriate, and Owen smiled at me. My stomach felt like it had minnows in it, and I smiled back. Owen’s gentle voice and calloused hands were all I could focus on, and the lovely, inviting curl of his lips as he smiled.
“How old are you? Since you already know my age.” I blurted out, and he laughed.
“Why? How old do I seem?”
“I’ve never been good at guessing age,” I admitted. Which was the truth. Our people could live up to two centuries, but we never looked it. Funny how adulthood came so young for us.
“Twenty- six.”
“You seem older,” I said, as the elevator made a noise and the metal doors opened again. The space was different. We were in an open, mostly blue and brown space, but now the walls had grown smaller. The space was narrow like a corridor, until he fiddled with another door.
“This is my place,” he said, inviting me in. I stepped into his home, and felt a sense of peace. It was blues and greens, just like my home. Owen had paints and colors everywhere. There were sleeves of them on his tables, his chairs, by the windows, and lying on the floor, which was covered in the paint splattered cloths like at the exhibition. The air in here felt stilted and stuffy. I wondered if it was because we were so closed off from the sea now.
“I’m sorry it’s a mess. I sorta just paint or draw wherever the inspiration strikes.”
“I like your home,” I said, taking in the sheer volume of artwork. Owen had his art stacked and leaning on and against every possible surface.
“Not too messy for your liking?”
“I think it’s just the right amount of mess.” He laughed again and I had to admit it was a pleasant sound. Owen’s laughs came out like he was surprised he even knew how to laugh, like each one was the first time. There was something sad about the sound, and I wanted him desperately to laugh like joy lit up his heart.
“I’m going to get some water, would you like a glass too?”
“Yes, thank you.” He poured the water from a clear container, and I watched the muscles of his shoulders shift under his clothes. I took a seat on his couch, and he sat next to me. Not touching me, but close enough that we could be touching. He took long gulps, until some of the color came back to his face.
“Thank you, by the way. You really didn’t have to come with me,” he said, setting the glass down on his paint-flecked table. I loved that everything around him was coated in his art. It was so fitting for him.
“You’re welcome. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you,” I said, and I surprised myself by how true the words were. His company was enjoyable, and the prospect of going back to the Saltwater Sisters and telling them of how little progress I made today was less than appealing.
“You’re kinda amazing,” he said.
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s just hard to believe that you–a crazy beautiful girl–would want to spend your time with me.”
“Owen, you’re not exactly hard to look at yourself. And you’re kind.” The blush on him now wasn’t from my magic, but my words. I got the sense that there was little kindness in his life, and that made my heart profoundly sad. Perhaps bringing his spirit to the ocean would be a kindness all of its own.
“Would you like to stay then? Not like, stay , but just to hang out? Here? This isn’t a ploy to get you to sleep with me, I’m not that much of a sleazeball.”
“I’d like that,” I said, and he relaxed.
“Popcorn and a movie?”
“Perfect.” He sprung up, the dizziness seemingly gone. I wanted to hum again, so the siren song would continue to work on him, but I felt like I’d used too much magic on him already. The dizziness was clearly a side effect of the music, and right now his eyes were clear and his mind was his own.
“What kind of movies do you like?” he asked.
I had no idea what a movie was or the kind I’d like. I pretended to think about it, when he said, “Rom-coms? Musicals? You seem like a girl like that enjoys a musical.”
“I like everything, really. What about you?”
“Honestly? Action movies or a rom-com.” I didn’t know what either of those were, but I still nodded .
“Why don’t you pick? I’m terribly indecisive.” I twirled a lock of hair through my fingers and he nodded. His eyes glazed over as I played with my hair, and I pulled it so the curl there bounced.
“Alright,” he said, settling back down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between us. It was warm and smelled heavenly. I took a bite and sighed with happiness. This was incredible .
“I love popcorn,” I said and grabbed a few more pieces.
“Same, it’s my favorite snack. Not great for painting though, I have to keep wiping my hands so I don’t get any butter on the canvases.”
“Maybe it adds more character,” I said, and he shook his head, a hand to his chest in mock offense.
“Why don’t you tell me something about you? I feel like I don’t know anything about you, since I passed out before actually taking you on a date,” he said. I shifted a bit, angling my body to face him on the couch. The cloth rubbed against my skin, and it was soft, cozy. It was the color of wet sand, and that alone felt like a comfort. My legs hung awkwardly off the couch, and I tucked them under me. They were heavy and thick, only bending at the leg bends– knees the sisters had called them – and I tugged the hem of my dress down to cover more of my upper legs.
“Well, I’m a singer. I’ve been singing my whole life. I love the water, like you.” There was something very intimate about sitting so close to him. His eyes and his lips, the shape of his jaw were so startlingly human, but familiar, like I had seen him a thousand times before. I licked my lips and watched as Owen’s eyes darted to them.
Was this what it was like to want to kiss someone?
“What do you like to sing?”
“Stories, mostly. I like to tell a story with my song,” I said, wondering if that sounded too strange, too much like I wasn’t a person like him. He held his hand palm up, a silent request for mine .
“I’d love to hear you sing,” he said as our fingers laced together. He noticed then the webbing between my fingers, and I tried to pull my hand back–surely this had to be a giveaway that he wasn’t sitting with a girl, but some thing else–and he just looked at the webbing that went to my first joints.
“I, umm–”
“Your fingers are webbed; that’s kinda cool. I bet you’re a great swimmer,” he smiled.
Was that a joke? Did he figure it out already? Panic rose and I didn’t know what to even say.
“Merrow? Sorry, that was rude of me–”
“Yes, I am a great swimmer,” I finally said, and we both laughed. “I’m not great at dating.”
“Neither am I,” Owen replied, tracing a circle on my hand with his thumb.
“That’s surprising. You’re very charming.” Owen ate some more popcorn, the sweet flush returning to his cheeks. He clicked more buttons and the black box across from us lit up. I tried not to stare at it, but Owen seemed to look that way too. People appeared along with music and they started talking. He pressed another button and turned to me. He put his arm on the top of the couch and I found myself wanting to lean in, to lean closer to him.
“I won’t bite, and I promise I’m not a creep,” he said, the blush getting worse.
“Isn’t that something a creep would say?”
“Fair point, but I’d love to sit a little closer to you, if that’s okay.” He gestured for me to come closer and I did. His body was heated from the weather, and maybe from me. His torso was firm but still comfortable to lean against. This felt like the start of something. This felt like he wanted to fall in love with me .
“You smell like the sea,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. The people on the box started moving and talking–they walked in some monstrously large human city with glittering buildings and talked about things I didn’t understand.
“Like salt?” he laughed, trying to shift away, but I gripped his shirt.
“Like happiness and safety,” I said.
“I’ve never met a girl like you before,” Owen whispered. Our voices had grown so small, like any noise could break this fragile moment.
“I’ve never met a man like you,” I said back. I wanted to kiss him then, and that was probably more frightening for me than it should be for him. I had to make this man fall in love with me, and sitting here with Owen’s arm around my shoulders, his breath on my skin, the scent of the sea hanging heavy around us, I knew it would be easy.
But as I felt him getting swept away by the tides, I felt myself going with him.
***
Owen and I watched the sunset together through the large glass in his home, our hands constantly touching, constantly finding their way back to each other.
Watching the sun move across the sky was heartbreaking. It was a symphony of color, more than I’d ever seen under the waves, and it reminded me of Owen’s paintings. I thought of the colors tinting his hands, like they had been dyed permanently from his art. There was red on his fingertips, and it felt like a call for his death. Soon the paint would be replaced with his blood.
The end of the ritual was supposed to be painless, but they’d always talk about how the sea would bleed, how it would be stained red, and how the blood would restore the bodies and the soul would restore their magic. Every part of Owen would be consumed to fortify us.
My stomach churned.
It was dark when I made it back to the Saltwater Sisters Cafe. Their home above looked out toward the sea, and it was a small comfort to be so close to my home.
The sisters waited for me to come back, and they eyed me cautiously. They were mermaids but nothing about them reminded me of home now. Not after spending time on the land, watching the other humans. They had shed their fins and made the land their home fully. Tia, Serita, and Adara moved like the humans and they smelled like the humans. Owen smelled more like home than them now. Their hair and clothes mimicked a human, but a strange one, one that lived on the fringes of their world.
Once I slipped off the shoes, my newly formed feet aching from being so constrained, the sisters rushed over to greet me.
“How was it?” Tia asked.
“Did he like you?” Adara said as she shoved her through to me.
“Have you kissed him yet? Did you use the siren song?” Serita demanded. Their voices rose with each word, trying to claw more information out of me.
“Why hasn’t anyone taught me to read? Or anything about the human world? Owen talks about things and I don’t know what he’s saying. Then we watched this magic box with people on it, and he didn’t even flinch. I don’t understand this world!” I shouted back. The sound of my voice surprised me; where had that anger come from?
From knowing you’re about to murder that kind, gentle soul.
“Merrow, how could we teach you about the human world? You still had your fins,” Adara said gently. She patted my hand, trying to subdue the anger. It only made it worse .
“And no one from the tribe could have taught me? Nothing? I’m ignorant and Owen is going to figure that out very soon, if he hasn’t already,” I spat. I prayed that he found me out, found me odd or frightening, anything for him to walk away from me. But he wouldn’t. I hadn’t even sung for him, and he was already enthralled. I saw it in his eyes. His beautiful, sea green eyes.
“Child, no one has come to the land in ages. You’re the first in a generation. How could they know anything? The humans… they are brilliant in their own way. Their science and technology. Their world has changed so much so quickly. It’s hard for us to keep up and we live among them,” Serita said. They all seemed so sad that I almost believed them, but I saw the joy on their faces when they interacted with the humans. I only saw sadness when they looked at me.
“It’s going well, I think he already cares for me,” I said, my voice cracking. Emotion clawed and dug its way through my chest, up my throat. I patted my chest, trying to soothe my aching heart. His soft touches, reverent voice. Owen Harper would be under my spell before the week was out. I felt his essence clinging to my skin, that sweetness, and I wanted to shower it away. Praying too that a shower would take some of this guilt with it.
“Teach me,” I pleaded. “Tell me the name and purpose for every item in this home. Assume I know nothing, because I truly do know nothing. Teach me how to be a woman.”
“How about you get some rest tonight? Your body must be tired. You still have sea legs, I’m sure,” Tia said. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, hugging me to her side.
“I doubt that I will sleep.” The words trailed out so slowly, I didn’t think they would hear me. Adara reached for me, but I moved away, climbing the staircase to the small room they had prepared for me. They followed me, standing in the doorway, waiting for me to acknowledge them again. The sisters held each other, and I tried to read the expressions on their faces .
“What is it?” I said, trying not to stare at them. Adara couldn’t meet my eyes.
“Merrow, you know why you have to do this, right?” Tia asked.
“So my people don’t return to being just ocean dwellers, yes.”
“We also need this,” Tia added. Serita nodded, and she continued, “Since you’ve come back, we feel our bodies trying to shift to our ocean selves. Adara can hardly breathe at times–”
“It’s just important that you stay focused. I’m sure he’s a nice man, but that shouldn’t cloud your vision, Merrow. Stay focused,” Serita finished. She narrowed her eyes, and for a second she looked like a shark, and Tia stopped speaking.
“Sweet dreams, Merrow,” Adara said, and with that the door closed behind them. I hadn’t had a chance to really look at the space that would be my home for the next week. The room was small in shades of blue and purple. There was a mirror and a chair for me, with a small table. A larger wooden thing with cubbies for me to hide my treasures. The sisters had clothes stuffed in them. I pulled out a soft, long shirt that came to the tops of my knees. The bed was filled with soft, plush fabrics for me to settle in and faced the window. I opened it to let the sea air filter in, and breathed deep. The moon was high in the sky and it glowed bright. Even the sky seemed to be lit up like the sun was still shining. I couldn’t see any stars. Darkness on land felt different than in the water; the water’s darkness was crushing from the weight of the waves and how little light penetrated it as the moon rose. On land, there was still light everywhere–from the humans, from the sky, from the stars that tried so hard to be seen through the endless clouds. The sky felt so limitless, so easy to get lost in. I stared out the window, leaning just enough that the breeze caught my hair as I gazed up, watching the clouds dance across the sky .
That’s when I saw Owen wandering the streets. He walked with his arms full of art supplies, heading for the beach. He told me that he enjoyed painting at night, and that’s when the inspiration struck the most.
I wondered if he was inspired today by me.
That thought immediately became replaced by I wonder if my magic inspired him , and I knew that to be the awful truth.
Sleep wouldn’t come anytime soon, so I slipped on my shoes and headed for the sea.