Girl at the Bottom of the Sea

by Michelle Tea

  But eventually Sophie began to relax. She hadn’t even known she was struggling; the wild motion of the Swilkie caught everything in its grip, making it one, and it was impossible to tell where her body ended and the waters began. But now, with her breath growing calm, Sophie began to enjoy the spinning. Its motions even seemed to slow, though Sophie knew this was impossible. She thought about how the rotations of the earth were undetectable. Had the Swilkie become her home? Would she eventually grow to not feel the whirlpool at all? Would she be stuck here forever?

  The swirling water made intricate patterns around her face. Whether her eyes were open or closed, she felt their ever-shifting lace imprinted on her vision. Even the constant rush of the waters became inaudible after a time, and she spun in a dreamy quiet, acclimated to the roar completely. Or, a part of Sophie’s mind piped up, maybe it’s made you deaf.

  It became so that Sophie could not tell when her eyes were open and when they were shut. After a few hours of this—or maybe a year, Sophie couldn’t help but think—a movement somewhere beyond the Swilkie’s froth roused her from the water’s trance. It was as if something was beating against the sea in short, sharp raps. Smacking at it. A tail. Had the Swilkie sucked in a whale? Would Sophie soon be doing this endless waltz with a whale, twirling and suspended, timeless, motionless?

  “Sophieeeeeeeeeeeee!” It was like hearing her name through panes of glass, through ears stuffed with cotton.

  “Sophieeeeeeeeeeee!” It was like her name was being howled by a ghost.

  On the other side of the wall of water, the girl saw another flick of a tail. She saw the scratch of claws, claws that glowed like pearls. Pearls. Griet. Syrena. Syrena, her mermaid! And it was as if Sophie was waking up from something, a slumber or a fever, something that had addled her, made her dull, nearly made her forget who she was and where she was going.

  “Syrena!” she screamed, and the water filled her mouth like a punch. She coughed and spit it out and it splashed back against her face, confusing her. But she couldn’t afford to be confused. She tried to relax, letting the Swilkie spin her. She looked and listened, and again saw the dark motion of a tail beyond the water.

  “Swim to me, Sophieeeeeeeeeee!” The mermaid called as if from another dimension. And Sophie let her strength gather, and then called it throughout her body. With a controlled zawolanie, she rocketed herself through the wall of water, which battered at her viciously as she broke through its prison. She landed in Syrena’s arms.

  “Oh, I think the Swilkie keep you forever!” the mermaid cried, petting the girl’s wild hair. Her hand struck a bump upon Sophie’s scalp, and she pushed away a tangle to reveal the baby octopus. “You still here?” she asked the creature. Its tentacles were twined into the roots of Sophie’s hair, and it too seemed rattled from the Swilkie. Sophie’s shirt was torn from the power of the water, and her already ragged cutoffs were shredded.

  Sophie looked up at the mermaid’s face, her grayish-blue skin and wide, blue eyes that glowed like talismans. Sophie had never been to an art museum, but it seemed like the mermaid would be something you’d find in such a place. Chiseled and majestic, both beautiful and tragic. Sophie would have liked to stare at the mermaid forever, but she cast her eyes downward. Syrena didn’t like being stared at, and Sophie was enjoying the mermaid’s embrace too much to risk being spat out of her arms.

  “How long was I in there?” she murmured into Syrena.

  “Oh. A week, I think. Too long. Was so worried about you was not even bored!” the mermaid laughed her harsh laugh. “You imagine, stuck in this place? Look around you.”

  Sophie brought her head up and surveyed the space as she was told. It was nothing, a void. Around them the waters rushed, eternal, heedless of the creatures caught inside.

  “All week I do nothing but stare at water, look for you. Stare so long, I start to see things. Stare so long, my eyes so tired, still, I stare even more, to find you.”

  Sophie squeezed the mermaid. She couldn’t imagine what would have happened without her. She’d be there forever, spinning and spinning. Forgetting she even existed, entranced by the water. “It messed my brain up,” Sophie tried to explain. “Being in there. I almost forgot you were here!”

  “I very sure,” the mermaid said. “Why don’t you ride on my back? I take us to the Ogresses.”

  Gratefully, Sophie slung her arms around Syrena’s neck, burying her face in the mermaid’s pile of hair. Upon her own head, the baby octopus began to lessen its grip, pulling itself free of her tangles. It felt like a head massage, and Sophie almost cried, she was so happy. To go from the center of a storm to lying upon a mermaid like a hammock while a baby octopus gave you a head rub—Sophie felt in that moment that if her life was not charmed then there was no such thing as charm.

  As the mermaid began to swim them through the eye of the Swilkie, Sophie struggled to keep her eyes open. A week ago she had had no idea what a Swilkie even was, and here she was in the heart of it. She should pay more attention. She would likely never be in such a place again. But with the rushing of the waters all around her, the girl was lulled to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  Sophie woke with a start, and then a scream. An eyeball as big as her face was peering at her, wide and golden and unblinking. The scream that left her mouth was hoarse but piercing, and Syrena was swiftly at her side, delivering a smack to her shoulder.

  “Respect!” she barked. “And some gratitude, if you please!”

  So much for the cozy, cuddling mermaid who’d saved her life and cradled her through the eye of the storm. Syrena was back to her old self, the cranky mermaid of the city of Warsaw who had for so long protected the city’s river with little more than her bad attitude.

  “I’m sorry,” Sophie mumbled, rubbing her shoulder and looking down at her bedding. She was not quite awake enough to peer into the giant eye of an Ogress again. “I just—I was having a nightmare.”

  “It seems as if time has been one long nightmare lately, hasn’t it?” asked the Ogress in a voice both booming and smooth. Sophie could tell that the creature was attempting to whisper, for her sake. Sophie took a deep breath and looked into her eye.

  Well, it was a very pretty eye. Brown and gold flickering together like a light show. The Ogress pulled back a bit and Sophie could see her other eye, both of them set into a massive face. The nose was bold and the lips full and curved. Her long hair fell in a plait down her back, and Sophie was suddenly aware of her own wild snarls. She touched her hair anxiously, and her hand bumped something scratchy. Livia’s feather. Her hair had wound around it so densely Sophie would have to cut it out if she ever wanted to remove it—which she never, ever would.

  She fingered it, feeling the love she felt for the bird in her heart. If Livia were alive, were with her, she would urge Sophie to be brave, brave and well-mannered. The feather dangling in her hair would remind her of that always, would help her live up to the person her pigeon friend had believed her to be.

  And what of all the others she’d left behind? What would Ella say if she saw her now, sleeping in a place so far beneath the sea she bet no other human had visited? But I’m not human, she answered herself. She couldn’t wait to tell her best friend the news: Hey, guess what, I’m not even totally human! She could imagine Ella making a joke and giving her a swat. How she missed the girl’s half-mean, half-funny way of joking. Sophie missed everyone, even her mom. She wished there was a phone she could use to call Andrea, to tell her, Hey, I’m fine, I’m at the bottom of the sea with that mermaid, visiting some Ogresses. No, don’t worry, they’re nice Ogresses. Be back soon, stay away from Nana! Sophie shivered with emotion. There were so many people who needed her care, but they were gone, gone for good or too far away for her to be able to help.

  “Please, don’t be scared.” The Ogress spoke in a rich accent, her words rising high and dipping low, almost a growl—but a friendly growl, like the rumble of a curious dog. “I know we are so large, my sister and
I, but we are only gentle, and we have been awaiting you. I hope you find your room comfortable.”

  Sophie looked around at the room. It was a cave of sorts, the walls gray and marbled, and her bed was linen stuffed with soft plants. Sophie was so exhausted she could have fallen asleep upon a coral reef, but this bed was something special.

  “It’s lovely. Thank you so much.”

  “Much better,” Syrena said approvingly. “You hungry? Ogresses make you food.”

  Sophie’s stomach rumbled at the mention of it. “I am,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve eaten in a long time. But I don’t want to put you out,” she said quickly. “I think I can conjure myself something.”

  “No, no, we fixed you a feast!” the Ogress said. “I am Fenja. My sister, Menja, would like to meet you also. We cannot both fit inside this grotto, so I will let her in now.” Sophie wasn’t sure but she thought the Ogress smiled as she turned around and crawled out of the cave. In a moment, a nearly identical Ogress came crawling in, her hand made into a fist the size of a boulder.

  “Greetings,” said Menja. “I am Menja.”

  “I am Sophie,” Sophie said. She wriggled to sit up. Now that she was awake it felt a bit strange to be meeting these famous creatures all slumped down in bed. She patted down her tangles and hoped she looked presentable.

  The Ogress brought her fist toward the girl and slowly opened her hand, revealing a stone cup of water in the center. “I thought you might be thirsty,” she said.

  “Oh, I am,” Sophie said, though she wasn’t sure that she was at all. But she was touched that the Ogress had brought her something, and it looked so funny, so tiny on Menja’s giant palm. She hesitated, unsure of how to retrieve it. Would she have to scramble up the giant’s fingers?

  “I will get for you,” Syrena said, swimming up to grab the cup of water. “Don’t strain you brain.” She brought the cup down to Sophie. “Is special water,” the mermaid said. “Come from hole in the ocean. Much good salt. Like medicine for you.”

  “Thank you,” Sophie said, and brought the cup to her lips. And it did taste wonderful, the salt rich, not stinging as salt sometimes is. She gulped it down.

  “If you feel able, we would love for you to dine with us in our dining chamber,” Menja said. “My sister and I cannot both fit in this grotto, though we thought it would make a lovely room for a human girl.”

  “It does!” Sophie cried. “I love it. Thank you.”

  “The walls are salt.” The giant gestured with her fingers, running one against the wall and pulling up a spray of salt in her wake. “It’s very good for you.”

  “I will ready her and bring to table,” Syrena said to the Ogress, and the Ogress smiled, her teeth as big as window frames, and crawled back out of the cave.

  “You sleep long time, almost long as in Swilkie!” Syrena told her, pulling back Sophie’s bedding. “You either real lazy or need rest bad. I’m not sure.”

  “Syrena, I don’t even remember getting here,” Sophie said.

  “Ogresses oooh and coo over you like sleeping baby,” Syrena said, amusement in her voice. “They have this cave all fixed for you. They like to keep you forever I think! Like little girl pet.”

  Sophie climbed out from her bed and stretched. It felt like her body had been pummeled by a natural disaster, which, she supposed, it basically had. Her body popped and cracked as she moved. “Oh, man,” she grumbled. Her hand went to her face, where the sting she got from Kishka’s dragon whisker still bubbled. It was gritty with a salty ointment.

  “You be fine,” Syrena said. “Not like you attacked by shiver of sharks, ya? That give you something to moan and groan about! You eat from giants’ feast and feel better. Wait till you see this food. Giants eat lots of food. But we must make you proper for their table. Have you seen yourself?”

  Sophie looked down and took herself in. Her T-shirt looked like a wad of Kleenex, wadded up and somehow stuck to her body. Her jeans trailed more stringy bits than a jellyfish. She was a disaster.

  “Syrena, I look terrible,” she gasped. “My clothes are so ruined I don’t even know how to get them off!”

  “Is true,” the mermaid nodded, and removed a knife fashioned from a sharp bit of shell from where it was tied to her arm with seaweed. She went to work cutting the girl’s clothes off, nodding with her giant head of hair toward a garment laid out on a hunk of coral.

  “You see that? The Ogresses make for you.”

  Sophie examined the garment. It was a one-piece fashioned from the same linen the giants wore, a material both hardy and soft. It was trimmed in braids of seaweed and strips of seal leather, and it fastened up the front with chalky bits of coral that fit into loops of rope. It looked like a uniform for a corps that didn’t exist, a deep-sea mermaid apprentice’s outfit. Sophie stepped into it and solemnly fastened the buttons. It fit her perfectly. Her hands ran down it, unbelieving; she’d never worn anything so nice. She found a set of pockets at her hips.

  “Pockets!” she exclaimed. “They made pockets.”

  “Girl like you need pockets,” Syrena said, extracting the pouch Hennie gave her from where it tangled into the belt loop of her old shorts. “Here. You keep this in pocket.” The mermaid paused, giving Sophie an up-and-down appraisal. “Ya. You look much better now. Less like human girl, more like Odmieńce. Like have special task. Is good work suit.”

  Syrena turned on her tail, and Sophie followed her out from the mouth of a cave, swimming into an antechamber that led her into a cavern so tall she couldn’t see the roof of it, just a hazy darkness. Sophie could see the giants’ dining table, a slab of stone set upon blocks and blocks and blocks of other stones, rising like a house above her head. Glowing worms, radiating jellyfish, and glass bowls of phosphorescence lighted the room. Luminescent lantern fish swam in slow circles above the dinner table. As Sophie was taking in the scene, the most grotesque sea creature she had ever seen pulled up beside her. It was an enormous fish, its mouth cranked open to reveal a graveyard of crooked, rotting, but very sharp teeth. Painful-looking spines splintered up across its back, and a twig seemed to be growing out of its face, hanging over its mouth. On the tip of this branch was a light, glowing blue like Sophie’s own talisman.

  “Uh… hello,” Sophie said to the fish, who seemed to be staring at her with its beady fish eyes. Sophie made an effort to look at the creature’s eyes and not into its banged-up, ramped-up mouth crammed with all those teeth. Her heart pattered.

  “Are you down there?” called one of the Ogresses. “We sent a fish to swim you up here. Don’t be frightened! We know she can be quite surprising!”

  “Just jump on her head,” said the other Ogress. “Or get in her mouth.”

  Sophie looked at Syrena with wide, pleading eyes. “I’m sure I can just—”

  “Get in the fish,” Syrena hissed. “This Ogress hospitality. I meet you up there.” Syrena turned and paddled up the leg of the table.

  Sophie turned back to the fish, who was probably waiting patiently, though it was impossible for it not to look menacing. “Okay, then,” Sophie said awkwardly. “I guess I’ll just…” Head or mouth? Spiky spines or jagged jaw? “Pardon me,” Sophie said, and she dog-paddled directly into the gaping mouth of the anglerfish. Sitting down on the fish’s tongue, she wrapped her hands around its teeth. She felt like she was in a cage of sorts. The fish began to wiggle its fins and rise slowly, like an underwater helicopter. It was, Sophie had to admit, sort of fun. When the fish came up above the edge of the table, it brought itself to a landing before a bowl heaped with curling seaweed. Sophie gingerly swam up and over the fish’s teeth and, once on her feet, gave the creature a little bow of thanks.

  “That was great,” she said shyly.

  “Angie likes to help out however she can,” said Menja, or perhaps Fenja. “She was in a some very bad relationships when she showed up here, and we helped her out of them.”

  “We sure did,” said Fenja, or perhaps Menja. “With my very ow
n hands I plucked three different males out of her. One had been latched onto her so long his eyes had vanished. Another had lost all of his organs.”

  “It’s the anglerfish way,” the other Ogress said with a sad shrug when she saw Sophie’s surprise. “The males are parasites, they merge totally with the females—but poor Angie was really upset about it.”

  “They were bringing her down,” the other Ogress nodded. “So we got rid of them, and now her energy is a lot lighter. She’s my favorite reading lamp.” The ogress reached down and gave one of the fish’s spines a little tweak. “Aren’t you, Ang?”

  “Not so easy on the eye,” said Menja or Fenja. “But not much down here is. Wait until you see the frilled shark, if you haven’t already.”

  “I don’t think I have,” Sophie said politely, waving to Angie as she swam away.

  “Oh, you’d know it. Once you see a frilled shark, you never forget.”

  “But enough with all that,” spoke the other Ogress grandly. “Please, dig in!”

  Sophie was charmed by how small she was in the Ogresses’ world, walking across their dining table as if she had become a fairy, or Alice in Wonderland. The table was piled high with a mountain of dried fish, crusted in banks of salt, and salted tangles of sea greens sat in chunky bowls of carved-out salt. She watched in awe as the sisters grabbed fistfuls of fish, entire schools, and tossed them into their mouths whole like they were no bigger than sardines. Sophie ran around the table like a mouse, scavenging; she sought out the occasional stray fish that fell through the Ogresses’ fingers, dunking it in the dust that fell from their huge chunks of salt.

  “This is so good!” the girl cried. It had been so long since she’d had anything but whatever raw sea creature she was able to get her hands on. To eat fish that had been salted and cured, plants that were seasoned—it was, to Sophie, the best meal of her life. She ate until her belly strained against the coral-and-rope fastening of her new clothes, and then she lay down on the table, laughing, her back against a giant jar of phosphorescent plankton, their green glow lighting her from behind. She felt overcome with gratitude for these loving giants, for Syrena, even for the anglerfish. “And these clothes you made for me. They’re—so cool.” Sophie looked down at herself again, gently fingering the soft strips of shark leather edging her pockets. “Thank you.”