Sea Nympho (Underwater Neighbours)

5. In Which a Picture says a Thousand Words

I stare at the Polaroid picture that usually lies on my dresser, of my mother in her human form, in a bikini. She is by far the most beautiful siren that I have ever seen, her skin seeming to glow under the sunlight, her smile illuminating her face. I memorise her features as best as I can, but I know that the picture does her no justice. I know not because I have a clear memory of what she looked like, but because I remember the feeling of slight disappointment after taking the photograph, and taking several more in an attempt to capture her true beauty, before giving up entirely. Sighing, I walk over to where Tony sits on my bed. I walk over to him and hand it to him.

“Dios mio,” he says softly, “this is her? Your mother?” 

“Yes,” I tell him.

“She is gorgeous,” he says, sounding slightly breathless. 

“She was even more beautiful in person,” I say. “These photographs don’t do her justice.” He looks at me as if that is difficult to believe.

“You said that she’s sick,” he says, handing the photo back to me, and I nod. “What exactly happened to her?” he asks. 

I laugh mirthlessly.

“She’s gone mad,” I tell him, feeling the dull ache in my chest, that has reduced since he found me near the trench, sharpen a bit. “She… began to mentally deteriorate a few years ago. And it continued to the point where she started hurting people. She ended up in the asylum.”

“What is the name of the asylum?” he asks.

“Insanim.”

“I didn’t know that you had an asylum here,” he says. “We didn’t have one back home. They just kept family members subdued in a room in the house. We still do.”

“Yeah, well, we did that at first, but she shot jets of boiling water at anyone who visited,” I tell him. “We couldn’t lock her in her room; neither my father nor myself possess the ability to perform such strong magic, to bind a siren to one room. Only large groups of sirens in unison can do that, but the citizens of Astra by and large do not care much for the mentally ill. They made the asylum, and probably see that as enough. Maybe… maybe mermaids can perform stronger magic,” I tell him. “At least, in some ways.”

“No,” he says, “we need to do that in groups, too. We are just more tightly knit than you guys, willing to help each other out when one’s family member has gone mad. It’s something that I have noticed, that you sirens aren’t as tightly knit as us, I just didn’t want to say it.”

Looking back, I realise it is true that they treat each other differently from how sea sirens do. Still, I feel the need to say something nice about Astra.

“We have medicine that we give them,” I say weakly. “It’s called sea magenta.” Despite my resentment at the lack of compassion that the other sea sirens have towards my mother and those like her, I want to tell him at least one positive thing about Astra in respect to people like my mother.

“Really?” he says, sounding interested, licking his lips. “We have one, too. It’s called luz blanca, or white light in English. It is this bright white plant that grows where we come from, but I haven’t seen any here, aside from the ones that we have brought. In all honesty, all it does is subdue the individuals.”

“Same thing with our medicine.”

We sit there in silence, side by side for a few moments. It feels good to have him here, as a silent comfort in my time of need. Eventually, it is he who breaks the silence.

“You ever worry about that happening to you?”

This is something that I don’t like to think about. But I do worry.

“Yes,” I tell him, “but I do not like thinking about it.”

“I’m sorry, mi amor,” he says to me. Shifting closer. I rest my head on his shoulder, and sigh.

“It’s alright,” I tell him. “I just… I don’t know.”

He is silent for a few moments. I hear the ticking of the clock on the wall in front of me. I look up at it, and see that it is almost 5 p.m.

“It’s almost sunset,” I tell him. We came to the surface earlier than I usually do; I usually come up at sunset, but today, I had to break my nocturnal habit, and wake earlier than usual to see my mother. 

“Didn’t you say something about the, uh, flying sirens?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, before yawning.

“Well, do you want to watch them with me?” he asks. I move, turning to look at him. “To take your mind off things.”

“Yes,” I respond, feeling eager at the thought of something to distract me from my mother. I let myself mourn her condition sometimes, but at a certain point, I don’t want to think of it anymore. “Have you watched them before?” I ask.

“No,” he says, “I keep forgetting.”

“But don’t you hear—”

“Not from the depth that I reside in. It appears that our hearing is not as sensitive as yours.”

“So how did you know to go to the presentation at that time?”

“The sun was setting,” he says. “I could see the light dimming.”

“Oh,” I say in surprise. We are so similar in so many ways, that I sometimes forget that we also have significant differences between us. The prospect, however, of being the one to show him them, and experiencing this with him for the first time, thrills me.

“That would be perfect!” I immediately begin to take off my clothes, before going over to one of my drawers and pulling out one of my swimsuits, a glittery, purple two piece. “Put on your trunks!” I shout excitedly, eagerly. It isn’t merely the prospect of seeing them that excites me; I have done so many times before. It is the idea of seeing them with him that thrills me. He chuckles to himself, and puts on his swim trunks. I run outside with him, running into the water and swimming out far enough from the shore to take my swimsuit off, and change into my siren form. I hold the swimsuit in one hand, wrapping them around my wrist, and guide him rather quickly to the space above Astra. As I approach, I realise that they have already started, hearing them from a distance. They always seem to sing in harmony with each other, some voices softer than others, and as I approve, my excitement grows more and more.

“You hear that?” I ask him in my head.

“No,” he says, as he swims beside me, just under the surface of the water. He has changed into his merman form, his swim trunks held firmly in one hand. “I cannot— oh,” he says, “I can hear it now.” I can hear the excitement in his voice. He follows the sound, shooting forward, leaving me behind. I try to keep up, but there’s no hope of that, since they swim so much faster than we do. However, I can still see him, even as he gets further and further away from him, and eventually he goes to the surface. In a short while, I join him, the singing now loud and clear. It sounds beautiful, enchanting, and I know that they do this as a kind of ritual, to start and end their day. The humanoid creatures soar gracefully above us, some with silver wings, some with gold, singing loudly. The light from the setting sun reflects off of their wings, as they shine beautifully. I look over at Tony, and he seems to be utterly and completely enchanted by them, his eyes following them, jumping from siren to siren. One of them, who I know to be named Sarindi, from when I used to go on their island, smiles at me briefly, and I smile back, waving. 

“This is… stunning,” he says softly, and in this moment, I feel a sense of joy. I know that it is temporary, that it may not last, but for now, it is enough to push back my sadness that I felt after seeing my mother.