The Mermaid's Curse

Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Xavier

Oceania steps into the hallway, biting her full lower lip in concentration as she struggles for balance in Amelie's high-heeled shoes. Her breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and I can only imagine that it's because she's not used to the corsets that women squeeze themselves into in the name of fashion. I pocket Amelie's jar of smelling salts, deciding that I might need them for the second time tonight.

Oceania is, without a doubt, the loveliest girl that I have ever laid eyes on, her beauty as radiant and timeless as a goddess. Amelie has helped her to choose just the right gown, a deep blue-green frock with clean, simple lines and only a few bows for decoration. Her hair has dried into a tangle of waves of such a pale blond that they're almost silver. She exudes the faint rose aroma that Amelie is so fond of, but nothing can mask the fresh, salty scent of the sea that clings to her.

She smiles at me shyly, and I clear my throat, finally finding my voice. "Oceania, my dear. You look--lovely. Actually, lovely doesn't even do you justice. You're fantastic, otherworldly, a vision. Need I go on?"

"Thank you." Oceania's giggle is as melodious as the pealing of wind chimes in a sea breeze. I thread my arm through hers as we creep down the dimly-lit hallway. "So, what are you going to show me? Amelie told me that whatever it is, I'm sure to like it."

"It's a surprise. Come, follow me."

I lead the way, down the winding staircase and through the parlor, then through the grand dining room to the kitchen. Quietly, I push open a tiny door in the kitchen wall, which leads to a narrow, darkened staircase. Hand-in-hand, Oceania and I descend the stairs to the cellar.

I flick on the light, and Oceania's gasp echoes throughout the cavernous room. The cellar is a kind of musician's playground. An old harpsichord stands in one corner, an upright piano in another. My family's other instruments are scattered throughout; there's a baritone, a tuba, a trumpet, a flute, a harp, and a set of drums. My mother, sister, and I have avidly collected instruments since...forever, really. My mother sang in a traveling opera company before she married my father, and the harpsichord, piano, and flute belonged to her. The harp and the drums were Amelie's addition, while the baritone, tuba, and trumpet were mine.

As a child, both of my parents encouraged me to explore the world of music, but as I've grown older, my father has dissuaded me more and more from practicing. Yes, he appreciates it when Amelie and I show off for his friends, performing dazzling classical pieces on the imposing new baby grand he keeps in the parlor, but he certainly doesn't want me to make a career of music. "You have to carry on the family business," my father has said practically every day since I turned sixteen and the subject of college was broached. "Your sister can practice her instruments for hours every day. But you've got other things to do. Those banks won't run themselves, you know."

My father is a born businessman; he built a huge fortune in railroads in the 1890s, and then accumulated even more wealth when he began opening and running banks. Now, he's literally richer than the bank, and, naturally, he wants me to work for him. This is why I attend college at the University of California at Berkeley, with a major in business and finance. But little does he know that all of my time between classes is spent in the on-campus music conservatory, learning the art of composing, and analyzing the work of the masters. I haven't told anyone this, except for Amelie. I know my mother would be proud, but I also know that she would be obligated to tell my father, and I can't chance that.

"Oh my, Xavier," Oceania says, clasping her hands as she admires the golden trumpet. "What is this? It's beautiful, and so shiny."

I laugh, picking it up. "Yes, it is. But there's more to it than that. Listen to the sound it makes." I play a brief tune as Oceania claps and squeals in delight. I slide onto the piano bench and begin to play a favorite Italian aria of my mother's, singing along with it.

Oceania leans against the piano, watching my fingers and listening to the first dramatic strains. Soon, she begins to sing with me; as her voice echoes through the cellar, it sounds even more enchanting than it had when she'd burst forth from the sea. Still singing, she crosses the room to the harp and begins accompanying me.

As she closes her eyes and strums the harp, she literally seems to glow. Her hair reflects the overhead light, and her skin sparkles like water. She undulates back and forth like a rolling wave, and her body becomes one with the music, absorbing the energy of the song, and then projecting it back out.

Oceania's intensity is contagious. A strange warmth overtakes my body, and I feel myself lighting up from within. Suddenly, my fingers are more nimble, my voice is stronger, and the aria is more hauntingly beautiful than I've ever heard it. I close my eyes, spellbound by the harmonies that link me to Oceania--and to something larger and more spectacular than I've ever felt before. Music always lights me up, but this is on an entirely different level.

I never want the piece to end, but when it does, I keep my eyes closed for a long, luxurious moment, not wanting to break the spell. I only open them again when I feel cool fingertips on my cheeks.

Oceania has lowered herself onto the piano bench next to me. For a second, we simply stare at each other. From this close, I'm aware of the depth of her eyes, like the facets of a well-cut aquamarine.

"How do you know how to play the harp like that?" I ask, my voice coming out hoarse. I clear my throat and continue. "It's not an easy instrument. Amelie is quite skilled, but she's been playing since she was eight, and she practices for hours."

Oceania shrugs. "I suppose I've practiced for hours, too, over the years. We have a similar instrument at home. My sister and I play the sea harp to accompany our singing. The chords are the same."

"It was amazing--you and me, playing together like that. I mean, did you feel it? It was magical."

Oceania nods. "I did, and I've never felt anything like it before. I play and sing under the sea for enjoyment, but here, something was different. It wasn't just an expression of music, it felt--deeper, somehow."

"You're right."

What passed between us was visceral. Now that the song is over, I almost feel drained. Oceania and I sit in silence, both of us as placid as a couple of sunbathers after a long, hot day at the beach. Our musical connection was so unexpected that I think neither of us knows how to discuss it further. So, instead I focus on something tangible. No doubt about it, Oceania is a great talent, and she brings out the best in me as well. I want to convince her to stay on land as long as she possibly can. I don't know how long mermaids can live above water, but my heart aches for answers. I try to tell myself that it's merely because I'm interested in her artistically, but I have to admit, there's much more. I wonder what kind of music we would make together if I kissed those salty lips of hers.

I shake the thought aside. I already have a special friend of sorts--Victoria, whom I escort to parties and dances every once in a while. Courtship here is so formal that we've never even kissed. Naturally, my father wants to marry us off, but I've always been reticent to move forward with her. Now I think that Oceania just might be the reason why.

Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought. Feel free to vote or comment. ;) And if you're excited to read more, the entire story is published as a Kindle eBook for only 99 cents. Here's the link: http://www.amazon.com/Mermaids-Curse-California-Book-ebook/dp/B00OV2DIMU/ I'll be offering it for free on Amazon soon, so if you follow me I'll message you when that happens. :)