The Mermaid's Song

Getting Desperate

The next night I returned.  But there was no voice to greet me, no melody on the winds.  I was up and restless, pacing the shore, throwing shells into the ocean, trying to calm my throttling mind.  I was angry, very angry, and furious at this creature.  She had stolen my sleep from me, robbed me of the sweetest pleasure, the one that kept me clinging onto my sanity.  Without it, I was a ghost, walking in this sad little town, going to all the familiar haunts, seeing all the same people, and putting everyone on edge.  And there was nothing I could do.  I was back in this vicious cycle of the never ending life, the life that was never punctuated by the lull of sleep, never healed by the renewal of rest. I couldn’t tell one day from the next, and all my nights were becoming the same.

                As I ran my hands through the damp, cold sand I thought more about the startled creature, and the rumors about the singing.   Purple eyes? And a tail? Maybe it was a hallucination, a twist from my frazzled brain.  But the way her skin had felt, the slippery smooth feel of a dolphin’s, that had been too real, too vivid.  It was smooth and damp and exceedingly cold.  I had not been seeing things, or hearing things, or faking things.  It had all been real.  Other people had noticed too, so I wasn’t crazy, and she must be real.  The voice that I had heard for weeks had been real, and when that creature disappeared, so did the voice, and I had to get it back. I had to sleep again.    

                So I waited until dawn.  And no voice came, like I expected.  And I waited the next night.  I waited a week, and two, and three. And finally after a month of waiting, a month without sleep, and a month listening to an incomplete symphony, she came back.  I was drifting, in and out of a dream, when I heard a splash and the drag of skin on rock.  I turned my head slowly to look over at the rocks, my heart soared, and there was the familiar figure, beginning to comb her long hair, her tangled hair.  She started to sing, and the sound was soothing to my ears and to my mind.  I could already feel myself embracing sleep, ready for the peace.  That night I slept. 

                And that night I dreamed.  It was strange and lucid, vivid and real.  My senses were exploding and I couldn’t breathe and my arms wouldn’t move.  My vision cleared and I realized I was underwater with the sky above me.  I floundered about, panicking and struggling as I felt my lungs fill up with water.  Soon I stopped, and I just started to sink.  I passed by fish with eyes that stared curiously at me, fish with colorful scales and quick movements.  I kept sinking and sinking, until I hit the rocky bottom. And around me, peeping out from behind outcrops of rock, were evil and impish faces, grinning maliciously at me.  Their eyes spelled hate and their hands stretched towards me. As their hands grasped onto my arms and legs, I heard her singing, I heard my melody:

                “The waves kissed the beach

                And the sand kissed the sea

                Their infinite dance

                So peaceful to me.”

The lines went round and round my head, and I started to scream.  A line of bubbles left my mouth and made way to the surface.  Suddenly I was soaring upwards, flying to the surface, pushed by a rocket like force.   My lungs were about to explode, and I could feel the world begin to dim around me.  Then, I burst to the surface and I woke up. 

                The tide had come in and I had chosen a place too close to the water.  I was lying in wet sand, the salt water penetrating every spot of my body, leaving nothing dry.  The wind began to blow and my exposed wet and cold skin began to freeze.  I felt the goose bumps begin to prickle up as I tried to move.  But my limbs would not budge.  For a second I thought that I was still in my dream, but then I realized they were stiff.  I picked myself up, shivering, and started the walk home.  That night, I hated the voice, the melody that haunted me.

It’s astounding, really, that my parents haven’t noticed my strange activity lately.  Even I know I haven’t been acting normal. They spend so much time watching over my brother, it sad.  They don’t listen to the behaviorist they pay so much for who says that kids with Asperger’s can be left alone and are extremely high functioning on the autistic scale.  Instead, they monitor his every move, his every act.  They watch what he eats, what he reads, what he watches.  He’s a great kid; really, he is.  But at the rate my parents are going, he’ll leave home or commit homicide before the age of eleven.  

                As I slowly open the front door of our one story house, I realize that I’m not alone today.  I can hear someone up in the kitchen, banging around in the cabinets.  I can already tell it’s my dad from his heavy footsteps.  Thinking quickly, I grab a blanket from the couch and throw it around me to cover my wet clothes.  Then I try to make it look like I have just come from my room, and I enter the kitchen.  I can feel that the air is tense, an argument waiting to happen.

                “Where the hell have you been?” The words are out of his mouth before I can even enter the kitchen.  He heard the door. His voice is even and controlled, but I can hear the rage rattling around inside it, caged and anxious, waiting to unleash itself on me.    

                “I walked down to the beach to take a walk, clear my head.” I tighten my grip on the blanket that conceals my soggy clothes.

                “Clear your head? What on Earth does that mean?” His brown eyes mock me, searching for something to be disproving of.

                “I’ve just been having problems sleeping lately.  I go for walks and come back to try and sleep.”  Now the anger is in my voice as I start to get defensive.   

                “It’s six thirty, Adam! I checked on you at five, and you were gone.  What time did you even leave?”

                “Why were you up at five?” I ask, curiously, trying to deflect the question.   

                “That’s not what I asked.  Answer my question.” He was avoiding something, and it was the cause of this whole thing.

                “I left at four.” I lied.  “Where’s mom?”

                Bingo.  Hit the jackpot.  I can practically see his blood pressure rising.  I was anticipating an explosion the size of a small land mine, but I was surprised. “She took David to his out of town doctor’s appointment.” He said gruffly, eyes staring into his coffee mug, avoiding mine.  

                “But weren’t you both supposed to go to that? I thought it was all the way in Savannah.”

                “Yes Adam, we were.  Plans change.  Go get ready for school.”

                As I walk out of the room, I see mom’s wedding band on the table by the front door.