My mother was a siren.
My father was a sailor.
I am an ocean child.
And the winds
of the waves are calling,
calling me home.
~~~
"What if I drop subtle hints about it?" I asked Ryan as we conversed over bowls of ice cream at Polly's. She'd reopened the store and the locals of Bernig had been in and out all day. A few days without her homemade ice cream had felt like years.
"And what if he actually knows something? What then? What if he asks why you want to know?" he asked me, spooning a big scoop of Chocolate Overload into his mouth.
"Would it be so bad if I told him?" I questioned, playing with my own bowl of ice cream.
"Yeah, that'll go over well..." he sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Ryan and I went out on his boat in the middle of the night and we think we saw a mermaid!" I looked around at the other customers and cast him a nervous glance.
"Ryan, keep your voice down," I warned him. "If he confesses to knowing something then I think it should be fine."
"He'll change the subject instantly," my friend shook his head, "to the fact that you went out on a boat and if you bring up the hand that tried to pull you in, he'll just think that you actually plummeted into the water again." My shoulders slumped as I took in his words. He was right, my father wouldn't be answering any questions after that news reached him. I ate a bite of my ice cream and let out a sigh.
"Maybe we should talk to some of the Bernig locals," I suggested. "People we trust, who will just see it as innocent questions."
"Like Polly?" he asked, scanning the shop for the cheery woman who'd donned on a bright pink dress for the new, colorful opening of her store.
"Yeah," I nodded as he spotted her and waved her over. She said a few parting words to the couple she was talking to and came over, smiling at us.
"Hey you two," she greeted, "how do you like the new paint job?"
"It's nice," I answered, "I think it suits you better than the old dreary colors. We sure missed your ice cream though."
"You two have had enough of my ice cream for a lifetime and yet I see you every other day," she laughed, "so what can I do for you?"
"We just wanted to ask you a few questions," Ryan told her. "About mermaids." Her smile faltered a little and she looked between us.
"What do you two wanna know about mermaids for?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.
"We're just curious about some of the legends that surround Bernig," I stated quickly, "do you know when the stories started?" Polly looked around her shop, checking on the other customers before she slid into the booth next to me.
"The stories started within the first year that Bernig was formed so I'm sorry to say that I don't know any of the original ones. However, I do happen to know a few people in this town that you could talk to about experiences," she told us.
"Experiences?" Ryan questioned.
"Well of course," she replied, "you'd be a fool to not believe in mermaids."
"Are you saying they're real?" I asked her. She looked over at me, meeting my gaze for a moment. I could have sworn that something flashed in her eyes, but she looked away before I could decipher it.
"I'm saying that you'd be surprised by how believable some stories seem to be," she said with a wink. "Nerina, you're own grandfather claimed to have contact with a mermaid at one point. Old Joe would be the one to talk to about that."
"My grandfather?" I asked her.
"Sure," she replied, "everyone thought he was crazy, which is why he only fished with his close friends."
"Are there any more people?" Ryan asked, propping his head up on his hands. Polly looked between the two of us again and sighed.
"I will admit, I've seen a few strange women walking around the shore before, but I don't have any proof that they were mermaids," she told us.
"They didn't have tails?" I wondered.
"No, not on land," she waved us off as if the idea was ridiculous. "You might also find a good story in Frank Hikinstitch." I made eye contact with Ryan. Frank was rumored to be crazy and as children, we were taught to steer clear of his little house, which was far away from anyone else's and sat at the base of our old lighthouse. He'd lost his daughter at a young age and had become secluded after that. Some people walked in and she stood from the booth. "Well, back to work I go. You two stay out of trouble." She was gone as quickly as she'd come, a whirlwind of smiles and color racing through the shop.
"Frank Hikinstitch or Old Joe..." Ryan covered his face with his hands and groaned.
"If we talk to Joe, he's likely to tell our father's that we've been asking him things," I pointed out. Ryan uncovered his face and looked at me with wide eyes.
"Wow... you were very quick to find a reason to rule him out." I shook my head but found that he was right. I'd never been allowed to speak to Frank and maybe the town thought he was crazy because he'd seen the same thing that we'd seen.
"I think we should go speak to Frank," I stated, "he might have some useful information."
"Rina, how many times were you told as a child to leave Frank alone? Because I know that I was told every single day," he reminded me, "why would we try to go willingly talk to him?"
"Because he might be the only one with answers who won't relay everything back to my father," I explained, "and you even said that my father would shut it down as quickly as possible. We have to go." Ryan let out a sigh of defeat and removed some money from his pocket and set it on the table.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
Bernig always seemed run down and disorganized, but the further we walked away from the center of the town, the more scraggly it became. I'd only ever walked this way a few times in my life, with Ryan when we were younger. I'd seen Frank's house once, a small grey building that might have been blue at one point. It sat near the lighthouse because he was the caretaker, even though it didn't work anymore. When we got closer, Ryan stopped and looked at it from a distance.
"Come on," I urged him forward. He looked down at me and continued forward. "You're not scared of him, are you?"
"Of course not," he replied almost instantly, "but those stories had to have been born from something... he's probably bonkers." I rolled my eyes and walked up the cracked stone path to his front door. The paint on the door was chipped and peeling, revealing the cream-colored primer beneath it. I opened the screen door and looked over at my friend.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Maybe we should just—" I knocked, interrupting Ryan. The sound seemed to echo off of the door and into the empty space behind us. I couldn't help but wonder if a guy like Frank ever became lonely, shut inside his house so far away from anyone else. The door opened to reveal a guy no older than fifty, with strands of grey hair mixed in with dusty brown and a five o'clock shadow. He didn't look crazy, in fact, he looked well kept.
"Hi," I greeted as he stared at both of us. "I'm Nerina Monroe and this is my friend Ryan—"
"I know who you are," he interrupted me with a gruff voice, "both of you." I exchanged a quick glance with Ryan and gathered my thoughts.
"We were wondering if you'd be able to answer a few questions for us. We're doing a project on mermaids and—" the door was slammed in my face and I jumped.
"That was... different from what I expected," Ryan commented, staring at the now closed door. I looked sidelong at my friend and knocked again. I waited a few moments before I knocked once more. And again. I lifted my hand to do it one more time when it opened again.
"Would you two just go away?" he grumbled, "I'm not a super eight ball and I don't have answers to the questions you have."
"Polly told us that you've had an experience with a mermaid before," Ryan stated, grabbing the man's attention. "We just want to know more about it." Frank looked between the two of us, his gaze lingering on me.
"It's not my story to tell," he stated, closing the door again. I let out a huff of air and went to knock again when Ryan stopped me.
"Come on, he's obviously not going to talk to us," he told me, pulling me from the door. I gritted my teeth in irritation as we walked away.
"He doesn't seem very crazy to me, only grumpy," I said, kicking a stone as we walked. "He didn't have to be so rude."
"This leaves Joe," Ryan reminded me. I felt my shoulders droop and I clasped my hands. "Maybe we could just hint at the existence of mermaids and see what he says."
"I guess," I replied. That's when I noticed the construction happening a great distance away from us. It seemed like they were building something and I heard Ryan let out a frustrated groan.
"What on earth could they be adding to Bernig?" he asked. It could've been a number of things. A souvenir shop, a restaurant, a hotel... the list was never-ending.
"This is really happening," I stated more to myself than to Ryan. Our town really was about to turn into a booming tourist destination instead of a peaceful fishing community. And if there really were mermaids in the water, that would cause even more problems. Ryan seemed to read my mind, because he stopped and grabbed my shoulders.
"We have a problem on our hands," he told me, "because they're using mermaid stories to lure people in, what if they catch wind that there's actually something out there?"
"It won't be good," I answered, feeling a sudden worry for the creature that'd tried to drown me. I bit my lip as I thought about it. Harper and Hans were two very rich people and would no doubt do anything to become even richer. Discovering a real mermaid would definitely do the trick. "I think we should go back out there."
"What?" Ryan asked, his eyes widening. "It tried to drown you!"
"We need to tell it," I continued, "if we don't warn it and it ends up getting caught, it'll be our fault."
"How would it be our fault?" he questioned, "they've managed to stay hidden up until now, so why would it have a problem?"
"Maybe something's wrong," I tried. I couldn't help the sudden compassion that I felt for the mythical creature swimming along our coast right now. Ryan ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath.
"I think maybe we should wait a few days," he told me, "so that no one gets suspicious of the boat that goes out every night." I tried to hide my disappointment at his words. The previous night had been one of the best in my entire life, despite the trouble it brought along with it. He seemed to notice and rested his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rina. My father will start to notice something if we watch a war film every single night."
"Yeah, I know," I replied. We continued to walk in silence, getting closer to whatever they were building. We had to pass it on our way to Joe's and I noticed that they'd already gotten a great deal of it done.
"When do you think they're trying to open everything?" Ryan asked me. "They're working pretty frantically."
"Too soon."
Joe was skinning fish when we arrived and he looked up at us with his friendly smile. Judging by his bucket, I could tell that he hadn't caught anymore fish.
"Hey kids," he greeted, tossing the fish into a separate pail and standing. He wiped his hand on a wet rag and came to stand before us. "What can I help you with?"
"Nothing much," Ryan began, "we're just walking around and getting a look at what the Greefman's are doing to our home."
"Have you met them? Those two are insufferable," Joe told us, letting out one of his haughty laughs.
"Unfortunately," I replied.
"Did you hear that they're going to try to advertise Bernig using mermaid myths?" Ryan asked Joe. And so it would begin, then. Joe shook his head and laughed again.
"People like them would do anything for money," he replied. "Our mermaid myths are just that; myths."
"They've got to be based on something though, right?" I asked, crossing my arms. "There are old books and journals from the founding of Bernig when people used to think they were real." Joe looked between the two of us and raised his eyebrows.
"What're you two up to?" he questioned. Ryan and I looked at each other and Ryan grabbed one of the wooden stools and sat down.
"Have you ever spotted a mermaid here?" my friend began his interrogation. Joe ran a hand over his face and groaned.
"How'd you two figure it out so quickly?" he wondered aloud. I furrowed my brow, but Ryan played along.
"No one else was going to tell us," he stated. Old Joe sat down on another one of the stools and I did too, realizing that this was where we were going to get a lot of our answers from.
"Look, I told Francis that we should just tell you two, but he thought it was a bad idea," he told us.
"So there is a mermaid out there?" I asked him, grabbing his attention. "And that's what's eating the fish?" He looked between us again.
"Did you two see something?" Joe asked. Ryan and I looked at each other and my friend gave me a subtle nod.
"We have reason to believe that the big fish we saw was one of them," I answered. I couldn't tell him about the hand, or that I'd gone out on a boat with Ryan. That news would definitely make it back to my father.
"Of course you do," the old man sighed, "next you'll be wanting to know about Mira and—"
"Who?" Ryan asked, interrupting him. Joe stopped, his eyes widening as he realized he'd given us something we hadn't known before.
"Oh, no one important," Joe tried.
"Who's Mira?" I pressed, leaning forward. Joe stared at me for a moment, as if he really wanted to tell us, but wouldn't.
"That would be a better question for your father," he replied, "now I think it's best if you two go. And Nerina, please don't tell him that I'm the one who told you."
Ryan and I stood and left, waiting until we were out of Joe's earshot before we spoke.
"Mira had to have a been a mermaid that your father knew," Ryan said immediately.
"But we can't ask him about it," I stated, even though I wanted to. He was most likely back from fishing already, considering there was nothing to catch. Ryan stopped walking and I turned to face him.
"Joe just concluded our mermaid theory... I think we should ask him," he told me. "To think that out of everyone in town that he would've told us to ask, he named your father. He knew we wouldn't go ask him, Rina. We have to."
"My father won't answer our questions, so we're just back to square one," I argued.
The walk to my house was spent deep in thought, trying to wrap our heads around the fact that we'd had an actual encounter with a mermaid and that my father knew more than he would ever say. I was trying to gain the courage the ask him about it, but every time I thought about it too much, I panicked. Ryan and I noticed the fancy car pull up and increased our pace.
Hans and Harper, dressed in their familiar shining clothes, walked up the path to the store with what seemed like determination. We were close behind, walking in to find Hans facing off with my father.
"I've told you many times before," my father told them, "I'm not interested in selling my store, especially to people like you."
"We're buying out the island, Mr. Monroe, we already own the land. What place will a drab fishing store have in a splendous island vacation spot?" Hans questioned, gesturing to the store around him. "From what I've heard, you can't even catch any fish lately."
"What do you plan on doing with it?" Ryan demanded, grabbing their attention. Harper stuck her nose in the air and poked at a rubber worm hanging on the shelves.
"We'd tear it down and turn it into a boat rental place," she said absent-mindedly. Ryan's face crinkled up and he opened his mouth to reply.
"I won't be selling it, so I suppose you'll have to plan to put your boat rental somewhere else," my father told them. "Now, please get out of my store."
"Mr. Monroe, the price we're willing to pay for your shop would help you and your daughter live comfortably for years without having to lift a hand, I really think you should consider—"
"Get out of my store." My father's voice had gone suddenly stern and he stepped out from behind the counter. "And don't bother coming back." They both shared a glance before they quite literally stormed out, taking their sour moods with them. My father ran his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh. Ryan and I shared a glance and my friend shook his head at me. We'd ask my father about Mira some other time.
"They won't stop asking," Ryan stated, interrupting the silence. My father looked over at him and shook his head, leaning up against the store counter.
"I don't plan on ever saying yes," my father answered. He looked between us for a moment before his eyes fell on Ryan. "Isn't your birthday tomorrow?" Ryan nodded with a shrug and my father looked between the two of us. "What've you two been up to."
"Nothing," I replied quickly, "just hanging out at Polly's." Ryan's phone began to ring and he answered, making short replies to who was no doubt his own father. I looked over at mine, who raised his eyebrows.
"I gotta go," Ryan sighed, giving me an apologetic look. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rina." I watched him leave and my father came up to stand beside me.
"Nothing, huh?" he questioned. I turned to look at him and shrugged, trying to seem indifferent about his words. "I've been you father for almost eighteen years now, Nerina, I know when you're lying to me."
"Since when did you care when I was up to something?" I asked him, brushing past him and over to the counter. I regretted the words as soon as they fell from my mouth and I turned around to face him. "I just mean... you're always fishing and I've gotten into plenty of trouble before without you worrying. Why is today any different?" He ran a hand over his face and sighed, meeting my gaze with his dull, grey eyes.
"You're never this defensive about the trouble you get into," he said in reply. I shook my head and crossed my arms.
"Dad."
"It's none of your concern," he told me."
"What's not my concern?" I pressed, "I'm smarter than you think I am, I probably already know." He was silent for a long moment. The only sound was the crashing of the waves against the shore and dock outside. The water was extra restless at the moment.
"Now's not the time," he answered after that silence became unbearable. I scoffed and shook my head, turning in the direction of my room. He called after me, but I ignored him and shut myself inside. When I turned away from the door, I found some sort of anger I'd never experienced before surging through me. I stood there for a second and took a deep breath. I didn't want to have to tell him that I knew about the mermaids he refused to tell me about. I wanted him to tell me himself.
I found myself staying in my room for the rest of the day. Ryan didn't stop back by and he didn't call. I began to wonder if his father had found out that we'd taken the boat. All I knew was that if he did know, my own father didn't. Not yet, anyway.
When the sun went down and my father stopped moving around our small apartment, I slowly slipped out of my room and towards the closet outside of his room. He always told me to stay out of there and I'd always obliged because I wasn't much of a rule breaker. However, circumstances like this caused my interests to pique. What if he had information on whoever Mira was in that closet?
Quietly, I opened it and knelt to the ground, sliding the first box out and opening it as silently as possible. Inside were a bunch of old photos and a small wooden box. I picked up the photo on top and smiled at the image of my grandmother and grandfather standing on the very dock outside my house. My father looked just like his own, a man I'd only ever heard about and never met. My father didn't like to speak about him very much and neither did my grandmother, when I actually got to see her. I set it aside and picked up the next one.
This was one of four people: my grandparents, my father, and a woman who clung to my dad with a bright smile on her face. Even though it was black and white, I could still tell that this woman had eerily similar features to me. I turned it over, hoping to find a name or a date. The back was blank. I looked over at my father's bedroom door and slipped the photo into my pocket. I reached to pick another one when I noise came from my father's room. I jumped, quickly closing the box and sliding it back into place. I closed the closet door quickly and quietly, before tiptoeing away from that hallway. I waited at the end, my hand resting on the pocket I placed the photo in. He didn't make another sound or come out and I let out a breath.
I took a step to go back down the hall and continue digging when a sound came from outside. It was like music, a steady tune that brushed against the walls of our house. I turned, looking out our big window at the water. I saw a flash of something in the dark waters. I ran a hand through my hair, already hearing Ryan's discouraging voice in my head. He'd tell me to not even dare going out there alone, especially after what happened last time. Or my luck around water.
Yet, I walked through my dark house, grabbing my jacket at the door and walking out there. The ground was chilly against my feet and the waves smacked against the shore, almost like they were angry. I stopped at the start of the dock and looked out at the water.
"Hello?" I asked the night. I wasn't sure if I was expecting a reply or not, but then the music started again. There was something strange about it. It was a tangle of beautiful harmonies and notes but... I took a step forward as I hinted the scratchy undertone of the voice, or voices. The wind suddenly seemed to pick up as I padded down the dock to the sound of that lovely music. When I came within five feet of the edge, familiar shimmering lights flashing beneath the wild waves.
I stood at the edge, looking down at the water. Something moved beneath the surface; more than one. My hair whipped around me due to the wind and I found myself wanting to see if all of this was real. I wanted to jump in and see them for myself, these creatures of myth and legend. I went to take a step off of the dock when arms wrapped around me. I was yanked away from the edge so quickly I didn't process the change in sounds at first.
The beautiful singing voices turned into shrill, brassy notes, almost like that of screams. The noise rang through my ears and I reached up to cover them. The screams echoed through my head and I sank to my knees, closing my eyes as the sound only rose in pitch.
And then suddenly it stopped.