The Mermaid's Song

Closer

My days went slower and I looked forward to the nights more.  My father was still silent towards me, but my mother and David returned home.  But now at night I had their raging fights to listen to before I could make my escape and meet Lyss, and they burned my ears.  She was intriguing and so different.  She said little things that shocked and amused me at times.  She would be kind, and tender toward me.  Then she would say things with a harsh edge in her voice about the cruelty of humans, and I would cringe, knowing she was right.  Some nights we spent in complete silence, staring out at the ocean together, me in the sand and she on the rocks. And she would begin to sing, and her voice would lull me to sleep.  And when I awoke, she was always gone, with seldom anything left behind, save a scale or two from her iridescent tail. 

                I arrived early one night, just as the sun was setting and I sat down on the rocks.  It wasn’t until the sun had completely disappeared beyond the horizon that she appeared.  At first she hesitated, because I was in the place she normally sat, but she pulled herself up and sat down next to me, her tail trailing into the water, leaving soft ripples behind it.  We sat in silence for a while, listening to the ocean’s song play for us, the slow rise and fall, the gentle hum of it.  Finally, she turned to me.  I was still stunned by her beauty, just like I had been that first night, many weeks ago now.  She looked me straight in my eyes and held my gaze for a heartbeat before staring back out over the ocean.  “Adam.” She said, in a quiet voice.

                “Yes?” I replied, expecting her to ask me again why humans were so cruel, a frequent conversation topic.

                “You have a nice name.” she said, somewhat thoughtfully.  I stared at her.  It was a full moon, and we had never been this close before. I could feel her body’s chill temperature emanating from her arms and tail.  She flapped her tail lazily, causing an arc of water to go flying across the water, glittering as the moonlight hit it, making it look like diamonds.  She was in a strange mood tonight, and I could tell just by the tone of her voice.

                “I have something for you, Adam.” She turned to me again, and there was shyness in her face I had never seen before. I was used to reading her emotions, they always blared across her face with a brilliant intensity.  I had seen peacefulness, joy, anger, grief, but never this; Never shyness.

                She pushed back her hair and took something from the back of her neck.  After some untangling, she had the small object free.  She held it in the palm of her hand and stared down at it, fidgeting with it.  She pushed her hair over her shoulder, and it cascaded down her back, flinging me with small droplets of water.  Without another word, she set the trinket between us on the rock.

                I looked at it, but did not touch.  It was an object made of shell, solid shell, which had been painstakingly chipped away.  It was of a white, white as a ghost, and seemed to glow in the night.  She was watching me, so I softly picked it up.  It was heavy in my hand, yet I knew how fragile it was. I began to examine the little trinket.  It was a seahorse, crafted from shell.  It glowed in my palm and seemed to be winking at me, no matter what way I turned it.  I was startled for a second, but the longer I stared, the more it seemed to move and twist.  I inhaled quickly, and Lyss laughed.  Her laugh was as beautiful as her voice.  It drifted over the waves, quiet and soft, like the lapping of water. 

                “In my world, it is a charm for long life.” She said.  “It is made of shell, and will only do good if the person who made it put their heart into it.  Adam, I have made it for you.”  She looked up at me with her violet eyes,           still shadowed with nervousness.

                I smiled back, not quite able to grasp what this meant. “Lyss,” I said, “you made this? How?”

                She laughed at the incredulity on my face.  “It took me many days.  The process is hard and must be done correctly, or the charm will break.” 

                “I can’t take this from you!” I exclaimed.  She had put so much time and effort into this piece to make it so beautiful.  It was such a beautiful gift; I could feel the profoundness of it in the air, but I couldn’t accept it.  But as soon as those words left me mouth, I watched her face fall.  Her shoulders slumped slightly, and her tail which had been swishing back and forth this whole time, grew limp.

                “I see.  Adam, I am sorry then.  I knew I should have not been so bold.” She began to reach for the charm.

                I stopped her hand before it reached it.  I fit her small webbed hand inside my own, and looked at her.  “What do you mean, Lyss? Explain yourself.”  The hurt on her face was evident, and I wished I could take back whatever it was that I had said.

                “This gift, this charm, will only work if the person who receives it is willing.  You are not willing to have my heart, so you will not. It will do you no good.  I am sorry I tried to force it upon you.”  What she was saying hit me.  She had put her heart into this, this trinket, to give to me.  And I was refusing it.  I was telling her that I didn’t want it, that it wasn’t important to me.  But that fact is, it was important to me; more important than I had realized. In that moment, it came to me how much I cared for her, this creature.  She was beautiful and wild, fierce and free, and I loved her, everything about her.   

                “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what it meant.” Suddenly, I thought back to Peter Pan, my favorite movie as a kid, and a brilliant idea came to me.  “May I give you something?” I asked her, a twinkle in my eye.

                She turned to me and nodded.  In one movement I placed my hand on her cheek and drew her near. As our lips touched, I knew she no longer doubted that I did not want her heart.  I gave her the softest kiss imaginable. Or maybe it was only soft because her lips were so tender.  I kissed her to let her know that I was sorry and that I accepted her heart, made into a trinket or not.  I pulled away and I could taste the salt on my lips, a reminder that we had been so close. 

                I looked at her face, and she seemed startled.  “What was that, Adam?”  She asked, touching her lips lightly.

                “It’s called a kiss.  It’s a charm, and I put my heart into it, to give to you.” I grinned at her.

                She beamed and threw her head back and laughed her wonderful laugh.  Looking at her, I couldn’t help but laugh as well.  So we sat on the rock, laughing out at the ocean, with her hand still inside my own.