by D. M. George
Perla hyperventilated as she took in the scene: red, blistering flesh instead of scales; beef jerky instead of fins, plastic shrink-wrap instead of skin, and a puff of white frizz instead of hair. Perla scrambled out of the kayak, crawled to Parthenope’s side, unlatched the cameo, and pressed it into her friend’s stiff, clawlike hand.
“Parthenope, please wake up!” she said, pumping her hand with the cameo in it. “Don’t be dead. I’m so sorry for abandoning you and taking the cameo with me.” She struggled for breath. “I really was coming back for you, I swear, but I had an accident that put me in the hospital, and when I got out, I searched for you but you were nowhere to be found…”
The air was as still as Parthenope’s corpse. Perla sat next to her, hung her head, and bawled. Tears formed a big wet spot on her shirt.
Minutes passed. A wisp of breeze stirred the air. Perla sensed movement in the corner of her eye. She turned her head just as Parthenope pushed her Ray-Ban Wayfarers to her forehead with a knobby knuckle. She squinted from sunken eye sockets.
“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” Parthenope rasped through cracked lips. “I knew you’d come back, even before Janus’s dolphins told me.”
“You’re alive!” Perla’s heart thumped with joy. She restrained herself from hugging her.
“Not much longer.”
“I was a bad friend. I’m so sorry I deserted you when you needed me the most and for gambling with your life. Please forgive me.”
Parthenope’s sunglasses dropped back into place. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’d have thrown the cameo away if you’d left it with me.” Words whistled through her nubby teeth. “But nothing’s changed—the end of my cursed existence is almost here, and I welcome it. Did you bring anything to drink?”
“No… and no, everything has changed! I’m not leaving, I’m staying in Italy… as of last night when I discovered how you’d tricked me. I bet you had a good laugh, watching me prance around all this time thinking I was twenty years younger.”
“I didn’t trick you. I never said the cameo would make you look younger—I told you it would protect you and give you what you need.”
“Which was…?”
“Gills and self-confidence. Magical intervention was necessary to make you see your inner beauty the way others do. You had to live it to learn it.”
“Well, you got me good… I assumed my bad behavior was the price of faux youth. I was positive you channeled your personality through the cameo. So what happens now? Will I turn back into a doormat?”
“What bad behavior?”
“You know, the time I grabbed Matteo’s crotch. I’d never done anything so outrageous before. Or the day I insulted Vito, when I was the one who’d invaded his privacy?”
“I already told you it wasn’t the cameo.” Parthenope’s skull smiled. “It was all you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Amazing…” Perla considered the crass barbarian she’d become and grinned. Putting men in their place felt just as good, even better maybe, than looking young again. Something else occurred to her.
“And the gills?”
“The self-confidence is yours to keep, but no cameo, no gills. Be careful not to drown yourself.”
Perla weighed Parthenope’s words. “I’m ready to be old now,” she said a minute later. “It’s not so bad.”
Parthenope opened her palm and admired the cameo. “Wonderful, and I’m ready to die!” She swung her arm back and pitched the necklace in a high arc over the water.
Perla’s eyes popped. “Noooo!” she screamed and rocketed into the air, her body stretched to its fullest length. In slow-motion agony, the necklace hovered in space. Perla hooked the chain on the tip of her forefinger a millisecond before it fell into the water. She resurfaced with the cameo clenched triumphantly in her fist.
“Just wait. Listen to what I have to say.” Perla climbed back onto the rock, panting. “I understand the reasons you think you have nothing to live for, but before you kill yourself, put on the cameo and promise me you’ll wear it for one more day.” Perla knelt in front of Parthenope and tried to fasten the chain around her neck.
“No, it’s my time.” Parthenope held up her hand.
Perla sat down next to her. “Remember after we met, when I tried to return the cameo? I was uncomfortable accepting such an extravagant gift from a stranger, but you persuaded me to wear it until I left Italy. Now do the same for me. Wear it just one more day.”
“Why?”
“I know you don’t hate all men; you just hate not being able to have a normal relationship with one. There’s a friend I want you to meet. He helped me select a gift for you.”
“He?” Parthenope stiffened.
“Don’t worry. He’s a gentleman and won’t ogle you. He can’t—he’s blind.”
“Are you serious? What have you told him about me?” Her angry eyes bulged in their sockets.
“Relax. I only told him that you sing beautifully and your name is Parthenope. He knows the legend but not the truth.”
“No, no, definitely not. You, better than anyone else, know how I feel about men.”
Perla reached behind Parthenope and clasped the cameo around her neck, resting her hands on her bony shoulders. “Yes, I know how you really feel: you are lonely, your musical talent is unappreciated, and nobody can see past your handicap of physical perfection. Luca understands. Just one day. I dare you. He’s a musician and you will like him. If not, you can still go ahead and kill yourself.”
“I don’t know…”
“He plays the lyre beautifully.”
Parthenope angled her head. “A blind man who is also a gentleman and plays the lyre? Sounds too good to be true.”
“And I’ll bring something to drink—whatever you want.”
“Grand Marnier?”
“Sure, what else…?”
A snap of electricity split the air. Perla recoiled, stumbled, and landed on her backside. The cameo lit up on Parthenope’s neck like an LED, unleashing spirals of green vapor. A jade glow erupted in her chest and pulsed outward toward her extremities. Perla stared as supple young flesh filled the depressions between her bones and plumped her breast flaps. The frizzy white hair blew away, and tentacles of red mane uncoiled from her head like an octopus climbing out of a crevice. Rows of gleaming incisors lifted her wickedly curved lips, her fingers straightened, the yellowed nails turned coral pink, fresh scales bloomed on her tail like emerald sequins, and rainbow-hued fins unfurled like a gossamer flag.
“My God, you’re so beautiful,” Perla whispered.
Luca was sitting on the jetty in front of his house, strumming his lyre. Parthenope was lounging in fishy repose on a nearby rock. They were within speaking distance of each other, but Parthenope remained silent. Perla stopped at the bottom of the steep path to watch Parthenope as she studied Luca. Her expression was inscrutable as she braided her hair and dangled the tips of her fins in the water. Parthenope’s fully restored perfection mesmerized Perla. She was magnificent—ivory breasts, flat stomach, womanly hips, glittering green tail, and marmalade hair.
Parthenope’s face brightened as Perla came into view.
“Luca, I’m coming up behind you,” Perla announced as she approached Luca.
“I know. I can hear you crunching on the gravel.” Luca patted the cement. Perla sat down beside him.
“Parthenope is coming. I see her now,” Perla said, gesturing at Parthenope to come closer.
Parthenope slid off her rock without a splash, glided through the water, and stopped in front of Luca. Treading water waist deep, she lifted her hair to expose her breasts. She moved to the right and then to the left. Luca’s eyes didn’t follow. Satisfied, she pulled herself onto the cement and sat next to him.
“Luca, I’d like you to meet my friend Parthenope.”
Luca extended his right hand. Parthenope stared at it as if it were a snake.
“Nice to meet you
, Parthenope. I didn’t hear you approach. By the way, you smell wonderful… like the sea.” He dropped his hand to his side.
“Uh… thanks. Nice to meet you too,” she replied, her cheeks flushed. “Please, call me by my given name, Sabina.”
“Nice to meet you, Sabina,” Luca said.
Parthenope sucked in her lips and pushed them out again, but no words came. “Perla tells me you’re blind,” she finally blurted. An awkward pause hung in the air. Parthenope threw her hands up in exasperation and pleaded with her eyes for help.
Perla, relishing her friend’s awkwardness, said nothing.
Luca seemed to sense the unspoken dialogue. “Yes, I am blind, but I see things others don’t.”
Parthenope turned to Perla, who just shrugged. “Like what?”
“I see you are beautiful, as Perla said, but your most beautiful feature is your voice—it’s celestial. Perla told me you sing and play the lyre.”
“I sing a little but no longer play the lyre. I lost it many years ago,” Parthenope said.
Perla and Luca grinned conspiratorially.
Perla opened her daypack and removed a bottle of Grand Marnier, three paper cups, and a gift-wrapped box. While Perla poured shots for each of them, a pack of cats snuck up behind Parthenope and sniffed her. One brave calico licked Parthenope’s hip with its sandpaper tongue. Startled, Parthenope whipped her head around, bared her teeth, and snarled. The cats scattered.
“What was that?” Luca said, sitting up straighter.
Perla coughed and cleared her throat. “Pardon my allergies. Let’s toast—cheers to a new beginning!”
“Tails up!” Parthenope tossed her drink back in one gulp, gasped for air, and held out her cup for more.
Perla and Luca sipped theirs.
“Luca teaches music at the Naples Conservatory of Music and loves antique stringed instruments. He helped me select this gift for you. It’s from his collection.” Perla handed Parthenope a box. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Parthenope tore off the paper and dolphin-squealed in delight. “It’s a lyre!” She clutched its shiny, curved arms. The golden wood gleamed in the sunlight. “This is far more beautiful than the one I had. Thank you!” She beamed at Luca and began strumming it, testing the sound. Tears welled with each pure note.
“Play for us please?” Luca said.
Parthenope hesitated and caressed the marvelous gift. She strummed a few times and broke into a spine-tingling aria. Her operatic voice soared to the accompaniment of the lyre. Perla thought it even more beautiful, more narcotic, than the lobster song she’d once heard Parthenope sing. Luca’s mouth dropped open, and he inclined his body toward Parthenope. He seemed to inhale every note.
“That was the most heavenly music I have ever heard, Sabina. What do you call it?” Luca asked after Parthenope had stopped singing.
“The mermaid’s song.” A pink blush blossomed on Parthenope’s cheeks.
Perla stood up. “I’m so hot and dusty from my walk down here,” she said, sensing her cue. “I’m going to excuse myself for a swim while you two talk.”
Perla stripped naked at the end of the jetty. Parthenope turned her palms up with a questioning look.
“I’ve been so uninspired lately when I try to compose,” Luca said. “Will you meet with me again so I can listen to you play? Your melodies are so unique, so stirring. You must let me put them to music, and maybe we can write some lyrics together… What do you think?”
Parthenope lowered her eyes and said, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Perla yelled, “Yippeeee!” and cannonballed into the beautiful blue water.
One week later
The music of double lyres reverberated in the cove’s natural amphitheater. Luca and Parthenope sat side by side on the cement jetty, eyes closed, strumming in harmony.
“Perfect. You’ve got it,” Parthenope said after the last note. She set her lyre down on the towel spread beneath them. “After only hearing it twice… Amazing.”
“I see notes in my head just as clearly as reading sheet music.” Luca put his lyre next to hers. “Now we must give your masterpiece words. What is the mermaid’s song about?”
“A mermaid.” Parthenope picked at her scales.
“I got that, silly. What’s her story?”
Parthenope scanned his face. How much should she reveal? Luca was uncannily perceptive. His sightless eyes peered right into her heart and read her subtlest emotions yet missed her most defining characteristic. She’d never hidden the fact she was a mermaid from the few humans she’d befriended over the centuries, but she’d also never lived the fantasy of meeting a man oblivious of her beauty and half-fishness. Luca was truly a gift from the gods, and she wanted to enjoy him a little longer before the truth ruined everything.
If only she could touch him. She wanted to feel the warmth of human skin again. His skin.
“It’s about an ancient mermaid who wants to die. She’s the last of her breed, and she’s lonely. She feels like an abandoned lighthouse sitting on the rocks, pounded by waves, watching the world go by, unable to participate. One day she meets a man who sees her through different eyes. He treats her like another human and is not distracted by her beauty or nakedness. They fall in love and meet by the shore every day. But the hard reality of their relationship catches up with them—she cannot live on land and he cannot live in the water. Her lover wants to take her to his home, introduce her to his family and friends, get married, raise a family—but it’s not possible. He tires of these limitations and eventually leaves her. She kills herself.”
A single teardrop slid from Parthenope’s eye. As it fell, it turned into a pearl and bounced off the cement, into the water.
“That’s a pretty depressing song,” Luca said. “Why don’t we write a new story?”
“Why? Their situation will never change.”
Luca reclined on the towel, one hand behind his head. He extended his other arm in front of him, palm up. “Sabina, take my hand.”
Parthenope stared at his hand, suddenly speechless. Her fingers floated above his of their own volition. She hadn’t held a man’s hand since her father’s, two thousand years ago. Her trembling palm lowered into his. The sensation of warm flesh made her dizzy. She tightened her hand around his, never wanting to let go, feeling human for a moment.
“Excuse my cold skin,” Parthenope said, reminding herself she was part fish.
“Excuse my hot skin,” Luca replied, eyelids fluttering. He pulled her down next to him on the towel. They lay motionless on their backs, looking up into the sky. “I suggest we call it ‘The Mermaid’s New Life.’ What do you think?”
“Mermaids lead a doomed existence. There are no happy endings.”
“Sure there are. It’s all about expectations.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone is handed a script in life, but you can always riff on it. When you can’t change your circumstances, change your attitude.”
“Riff?”
“Improvise.”
She still didn’t follow.
“What if the mermaid’s lover accepts that love is where you find it and vows to make their relationship last? He’s been searching for true love all his life and suggests she work within their limitations rather than against them.”
“How does she do that?”
“Easy. Instead of expecting to fit her life into his, he bends his life to fit hers.”
“That’s not possible,” Parthenope said.
“Of course it is. The mermaid just has to open her mind.”
“How do you see them living together? It would never work.”
“Maybe the man sells his home and buys a houseboat.”
Parthenope scrutinized Luca. “Intriguing, but if the mermaid’s tail is out of the water too long, it dries up.”
“Okay, let’s have him build a big swim deck in the back of the boat and bolt two chairs to it, side by side. There will be an umbrella to shade them
from the sun on hot days and the rain on cold days. Maybe there’s a hatch that opens to a built-in minibar…”
“That would be something…” Parthenope perked up. “What would they do all day?”
“All kinds of things: swim together, float around on inner tubes, fish, explore the Mediterranean… He might even buy her a two-seater Jet Ski. She’d learn to drive it sidesaddle.”
“Ha!” Parthenope laughed. Her face cracked into a smile. “I’ve always wanted… The mermaid might have always wanted to ride one of those things. She’d be so happy. But what about his friends and family? Won’t he miss them?”
“Other than living on a boat instead of in a house, his routine wouldn’t change much. He’d have a part-time job and visit his family and friends while on shore. They’d all admire his bohemian lifestyle.”
Parthenope and Luca stopped talking, each deep in thought.
“The only major sacrifice he’d have to make is children of his own. Maybe they could get a pet seal or two,” Luca said, his face wistful.
“Not necessarily.” Parthenope squeezed his hand. “Mermaids and humans can mate, you know.” She flexed the scales on her lap and examined a patch of softly folded pink skin. Oh, to be touched by a man with love… What would that be like? “Their offspring will always be female mermaids.”
Luca face softened. “Baby girl mermaids. Adorabili…”
“I enjoy our weekly drinking dates.” Parthenope swished ice around in her glass. “This stuff tastes great. What do you call it again?”
“Kahlua. Mixed with cream and a splash of vodka. It’s called a White Russian.” Perla tipped her lawn chair against the back of Parthenope’s rock and rested her feet on the cooler. “I look forward to our conversations too. Now that we both have boyfriends, let’s promise not to neglect each other.”
“Luca isn’t a boyfriend.”
“Right. You see each other every day. And you’re smiling for the first time. You look goofy-happy, like a smitten teenager.”