Samantha and Coquette spent the entire day on the Internet. Coquette last lived on legs in 1927, when she took the tail and the talisman from Coquette the First— French Coquette— and explored the high seas.
"There's not much to say," was how she summarized nine decades in the water. "Beautiful, at times, so gorgeous you couldda— I don't know. I'm no poet. You'd have to be there."
She knew something of the world of men as it unfolded over the years. There was plenty of trash and magazines, stuff she nicked from yachts and modern shipwrecks, especially submarines. She'd been kicking herself (figuratively) for missing the sixties. Sam sat her down in front of YouTube and explained everything in a whirlwind of "did you know?" and "you gotta see this!"
She felt it was vitally important to inform Coquette about the basics: that there had been a Cold War and World War II and then computers. But Coquette knew all of that. "It's not like I've been on Mars," she said. She was much more interested in what people wore nowadays. The only world event that fascinated her was the fact that Baby Princess Elizabeth was now Queen and had been for sixty-five years— perfectly coinciding with Coquette's reign over the seas. She wondered if there might be some mystical connection in the alignment of dates. Sam explained that the Queen's just a figurehead and all important decisions are made by the Prime Minister.
The briefing quickly devolved into pop culture. Sam thought that Coquette really ought to see Disney's version of The Little Mermaid, and Coquette dutifully watched it with her. The name "Disney" didn't make much of an impression on Coquette, nor did cartoons in general. She had seen a few in her time— grainy, jerky, and silent— the life-like style of Mickey Mouse debuted after she was already in the ocean, exploring the ports of Havana. She sat upright like a cobra, her tail curled around her waist, watching the wildly proportioned vaudeville drawings try to induce a sense of emotional gravity that was completely out of touch with their exaggerated features. The cuts were too short to follow and the film was much too long. Sam got anxious and stopped it.
"Maybe later," she said.
"What? Why? I was enjoying it," Coquette lied. Sam could tell, though, and couldn't subject her childhood memories to Coquette's squinting gaze.
At no point did Coquette marvel at the laptop from which all this knowledge sprang. She had seen typewriters and televisors, and was well acquainted with the invisible radio waves that permeate space to deliver information— it was hardly surprising that the future would be littered with magical devices that combined all three. In fact, she had seen hundreds of them, non-functional, in the garbage islands of the pacific, particularly near China. She only got excited when Sam managed to order dinner online.
The idea that Thai food would just show up at your door thrilled Coquette. She had a complimentary opinion of the delivery boy, too, whom she peeked at from under Sam's bedcovers. While they ate from boxes on the floor, Coquette mused that this would be an excellent way to lure young men to their deaths.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"No one would know what happened to them. They'd just— disappear. And I can think of less pleasant ways to go." Her tail fan jittered with the disturbing sound of a rattlesnake.
"Well, the restaurant for one. If the delivery boy doesn't come back, they'd check the addresses he last visited..."
"I knew it! You are thinking about it! You'd make one hell of a cold-hearted siren, Sam."
"You don't actually do that, do you? Lure sailors to their deaths?"
"Pffft! What am I, some sort of psycho? Course not."
They ate in silence for a moment.
"But you could try it," Coquette suggested. "Take the tail for a couple of days, see if you can round up a handful of lusty young men."
"No."
Coquette accidentally dropped a bit of pad-sieu. Eating with a plate in one hand and a fork in the other was a new experience to her. Somewhere between dining at a table and stuffing live shrimp in your mouth.
"I mean, I don't know," Sam clarified. "It's too weird, don't you think? No offense."
Coquette cast her a sidelong glance. "None taken." She thought a moment, then laughed. "Look at us! You're the one who's got the mermaid temperament."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The soul of a mermaid! Love-struck, pining at the silvery moon." She fluttered her eyelashes.
"I wasn't pining!"
"With your midwestern curls and your dimply cheeks!"
"Shut up!"
Coquette laid off, scorned, but only for a moment. A wicked glint caught her eye. "Well then, how about that boyfriend of yours?"
"What about him?"
"Give him the siren treatment. Hunt."
Sam shook her head and took a big bite of curry.
"You can make love with the tail, you know. I know it doesn't look like it, but there's a trick."
"I'm not listening."
She leaned back and probed with her fingers. "It's pretty well hidden, but see this? It's a trap door."
"La! La! La!" Sam dropped the plate and covered her ears.
Coquette slumped. "Your funeral. I mean, haven't you ever wanted to do something incredible with your life?"
"What? I transform and you get legs? Then what? What if you never come back?"
"I would never do that to you."
"Look, I've only just met you."
"You don't trust me?" Coquette glowered.
Sam threw up her hands. It seemed obvious that she couldn't give her freedom and her very body to a complete stranger who washed up on shore. But saying so would sound callus, so she didn't.
"Okay. You're right," Coquette said. "I do want to see what's become of the world. On legs."
"It's too bad we couldn't do it together. If there was some way I could show you around..."
Coquette picked up the plate and had a little more pad-sieu, distracted by something she didn't want to share.
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Becoming Mermaids
الخيال (فانتازيا)What would it be like to turn into a mermaid? To feel the same blood flow in your fingers as in the tips of your tail? Samantha wasn't expecting to find out when she rescued what she thought was a drowning woman, only to have the tides turned. And s...
