by A. L. Knorr
"He can't do that," I said. "Even I know that."
“Exactly. He knows we wouldn't even if we could, so I don't know why he's got this insane idea. He pestered Simon about it to the point where Simon blew up at him on the deck of The Brygida one day. Simon has been so happy to have gotten this job that it seemed like nothing could get him down but I guess Eric finally frayed his last nerve."
"Did he stop, then?" I asked, pulling the teabag out of my cup and setting on the saucer. "Eric, I mean."
"No, he got worse!" she said, throwing her hands up. "Tonight at dinner, he actually brought it up in front of Martinius. Can you believe that?"
“Again? What did he say?" I was horrified and embarrassed for Simon and the team. I was surprised by how bothered my mother was about it though; I'd never seed her ruffled by dissension at work before.
"Martinius was congratulating the team on some of the artifacts we'd managed to bring up," she started.
"Thanks to you," I interrupted. "What were they?" I imagined gold bars or a tiara encrusted with jewels.
"A set of hand-carved chair backs," she said, brightening. "Actually they are really cool."
"That is so not what I expected you to say, but go on.”
"Anyway, Big-Mouth jumps in and says that since the haul has been even better than expected, that the contract should be amended to stipulate that a percentage will be paid based on the value of each artifact. Not only that, that there should be an additional bonus given if we recover every single item on the manifest because that never happens in diving, period."
I was horrified but also amazed. "Are you going to recover every single item on the manifest?" If anyone knew the answer to that it was my mom.
"Yes, we are. The team doesn't know it yet but I do. I've already located all the items and planned out how they're going to find everything and when. It's in the bag. All except for one thing, but it's not on the manifest, so it doesn't count."
"What's that?”
"The bell.” She snagged my cup and took a sip.
"Oh right. Martinius said that at the dinner on the first night," I recalled.
"But really, what Eric suggested was not only completely ridiculous but insulting and in poor taste. I mean, poor Martinius," she said. "The guy doesn't deserve that."
"Wow, Mom," I said, genuinely impressed. "We might make a human out of you yet. I've never seen such empathy. And I don't think I've ever heard you condemn someone for 'poor taste' before."
She laughed. "Must be the lack of salt. The Baltic is leeching all the salt out of my system with every dive. Soon I'll be a big softie, just like you." She set my teacup on the table.
"I don't know about that. Sometimes it feels like I'm well on my way to becoming the prickly-pear that you used to be. I did mean to ask you about the whole salt thing, actually. I've never swam anywhere else, is it really different swimming in the Atlantic?" I drained the last of my tea.
"Yes, it's night and day," she said, easily.
"What do you mean?" My curiosity about swimming in saltier water was already piqued but I wanted to prepare myself better for what to expect.
A thoughtful look took over her face. "Do you remember when your dad and I took you to that ranch outside of Saltford one summer? The one that your dad's friend owned, what was his name..." She paused. "Grant."
I nodded. "One Tree Farms," I said, wondering where she was going with this. "They were into horse racing."
"Do you remember the little Shetland pony that you took a ride on?"
I laughed at the memory. "Yes, Shortcake. I was amazed that a pony could come in pink, she was a dream come true for a little girl."
The pony wasn't actually pink but she was as close as a horse could get. Her hide and mane were a strawberry blonde colour, and she was cute and tiny. I had gone crazy as soon as I'd seen her, begging my parents for a ride.
"Right," my mom continued, smiling. "And what was she like to ride?"
"She was a breeze. I was a bit nervous that she'd run away with me but the owner told me that she never misbehaves with little kids on her back. And she didn't, it was like she knew that it was my first time on horseback. She really took care of me."
"Yes, exactly. Now do you remember the one that your dad rode?" she asked.
"Oh," I said, and my eyebrows crept up my forehead as understanding dawned. "Esquire." I said, recalling the animal's name.
A vision of the huge bay stallion filled my mind's eye. He'd been a gorgeous creature. He was a glossy brown colour with black legs, mane, and tail, and three white socks up to the ankles. He'd been kept in his own paddock away from the other horses because he was as fiery and aggressive as stallions were known to be. He was a two-year old and being trained to compete.
The owners of One Tree were involved in a horse-racing event called steeplechase. It was a dangerous sport requiring the horses to leap huge fences with water troughs on the other side. Esquire had shown promise because he was powerful, a great jumper, fearless, and full of the grit that a champion needed. My dad's eyes had lit up at the sight of him. Grant agreed to let my dad take Esquire out for a ride while we all watched nervously from the fence.
I had perched up on the top of a fencepost holding onto my mom's neck. She steadied me with her arm around my hips as we watched dad mount the stallion. My father had been a good rider, he'd grown up on a farm just outside of Saltford and was comfortable around horses, although it had been years since he'd ridden.
We watched as he took Esquire around the training track a few times, first just at a trot and eventually at full speed. I watched wide-eyed as Esquire's hooves flew and clumps of dirt spewed out from underneath him, leaving chewed up track in his wake.
I'll never forget the pounding sound of the animal, the incredible surge of speed he gave down the home stretch, legs moving like pistons, driving his considerable weight forward. His nose stretched out front and his nostrils snorting and flaring.
When my dad had finally slowed him down, Esquire had reared and pawed the air as though he didn't ever want to stop running. His flanks were wet and his ribs heaved. I remembered being frightened that dad would get bucked off but instead he got the animal under control, with some effort, then cantered the beast up to the fence, keeping a safe enough distance from us. My father was not afraid; rather his face was alive with energy and joy. He was breathing hard, even though it wasn't he who'd done the running.
I had snuggled close to my mom as the animal had approached. The stallion had looked straight at me – no, through me. He looked as though he'd ridden straight up from hell and he'd come for my soul. I couldn't have put words to it then, I was far too young. But I felt the power and spirit of the animal so keenly that day, and had an intense respect for horses ever since.
"What are you saying?" I asked. "That the Baltic is Shortcake and the Atlantic is Esquire?" I wasn't sure if it was dread or excitement pooling in my belly, probably both.
"It's a poor metaphor," said my mom, "but basically, yes."
"No," I said, shaking my head as I recalled the look in the stallion's eyes. "I think it's the perfect metaphor. And on that note, I do believe I shall turn in. Thanks for the terrifying comparison."
She laughed. “Good night. Oh, by the way…” She looked over the chair back at me.
I paused with my hand on the door handle. "Yeah?"
"Martinius has planned a wind-up party for the Bluejackets and the Novak employees. It's next week."
"What's a wind-up party?"
"To celebrate the end of the project, and all the successes and such," she explained.
"Ah." I shouldn't have been surprised, after all his family had been searching for The Sybellen for a century and a half. It was something worth celebrating. "What kind of party will it be?" My mind was going through the clothing in my luggage and coming up empty.
"From what I've gathered it will be quite the affair." She looked up at the ceiling with a pained expression, and then recited word f
or word what she'd been told in one long outward breath. "Friends of Martinius and prominent members of the community have been invited, also dignitaries and politicians from other Scandinavian and European countries." Then she took a big breath in. "I memorized that, just cuz I knew you'd ask."
I laughed, but now I was concerned. "We didn't pack anything suitable for that. I mean, I sure didn't, did you?"
"Nope," she got up and stretched. "We're going to have to go shopping."
I groaned and planted my head on the door.
Chapter 27
I chewed on the dress problem for a day or so. Antoni had already shown me the fashion district in Gdańsk so I knew where to go for clothing, but I no longer had a desire to spend time in the city. Most girls would love to hit the brand name stores on high street with a wad of cash but I'd rather pick trash out of a tangle of seaweed than try on taffeta.
"I know," my mom said with empathy, "now that you're a siren you can hardly think of anything you'd rather do less than go shopping. But, I've got some cash for you, an advance on your part of the performance bonus. So at least you can get something nice."
"Thanks Mom," I said, giving her a hug. It never occurred to me that I'd be paid for the small amount of help I had given. "I'm still dreading it. Do you think Martinius would mind if I asked his secretary to go shopping for me?" I joked.
"Why don't you just order something online, lovey?" Mom said. She was probably sick of listening to me complain.
I blinked in surprise. "You're a genius!" I kissed her cheek.
"I'm not just any old fish, I'm hip to the times.”
"I think the fact that you just said 'hip to the times' means that you're not," I laughed. "But that is a golden idea. What are you going to do for a dress?"
"One of our meetings this week is at a lab in Gdańsk, I'll just pop into one of the shops while I'm there and pick something out. It'll take me thirty seconds."
I knew it would, too.
I got the Novak estate delivery address from Antoni and borrowed my mom's credit card and laptop. Within the hour, I had found a simple black baby doll dress that I thought was perfect. As I was trying to figure out the confusing European sizes, Mom came into my room.
"Let's see, what did you find?" She turned the screen towards herself. "You're kidding, right? That's what you're ordering?"
"What wrong with it?" I said, defensively.
"It'll make you look like you're twelve, that's what's wrong with it. Move over."
I squirmed over on the bed and made room for her. "Since when are you a fashion guru?" Mom had the most boring wardrobe on earth.
"Just because I don't like to dress up doesn't mean I don't know how to." She scrolled through the dresses on the bespoke site that I had found. "Now this..." she turned the screen back towards me, "...is more suitable for a siren, don't you think?"
It was a gown for a princess, not a beach bum like me. The irony that she'd chosen a mermaid style dress wasn't lost on me. It was a strapless, body-hugging gown with ruching up the back. It was described as a one of a kind, ombre design starting with aquamarine at the top and ending in navy blue at the bottom. The silk had been hand-painted using a salting technique to leave a stain suggestive of swirling water. It was made to hug the curves and the 'tail' part of the dress was cut on the bias to give it an elegant draping effect. It was perfect. So why was the thought of wearing it so terrifying?
"If you order anything but that I'll strangle you with your own bikini.” Mom slid off my bed and left the room.
I stared at the dress. I couldn't imagine myself in it. I'd never worn anything remotely so beautiful. It was a once in a lifetime dress for a once in a lifetime party.
I punched in my information and hit 'submit'. It was done. After that, I forgot about the dress until it arrived two days later. There was a knock on our door in the morning and I opened it to find Antoni standing there with a large box in his hands.
"Your hairpiece has arrived," he said, grinning.
I whacked him on the shoulder, took the box and shut the door in his face.
"Do I get to see it on you?" his voice came through the door.
"Mom!" I yelled into the room. "Is there anyone you didn't tell about this dress?"
"No, honey," Mom called from her bedroom.
"Shameless!" I hollered back.
"Is that a no?" came Antoni's muffled voice.
"Go away," I said, and heard him chuckling as he walked down the hall.
I tore open the box, a little embarrassed at how excited I was about a dress. I guess there was still a human girl buried in me somewhere. I opened the tissue paper wrapping and the dress came spilling out into my hands like a waterfall. It was soft and had the cool, clingy sensation of pure silk.
Mom came out of her bathroom brushing her teeth. She pulled the toothbrush out to say, "So, try it on."
I took it into my room and stripped down to my underwear. After a second thought I took those off too. I gingerly unzipped the back of the dress and stepped into it. I pulled it up my body, languishing in the cool feel of it against my bare skin. I held the front up to my chest, then discovered that I wouldn't be able to reach behind myself and zip it up without it falling down.
I waddled out into the sitting area where my mother was waiting, and turned my back to her. She zipped it up for me, and it closed around my body without pinching or drooping. The cool silk hugged every curve. I seemed to have a lot more of those since I'd started swimming for hours every day.
I turned to show my mom. Her expression said everything. Gone were her teasing remarks. What I saw in her face was an awe that her little girl really had grown up.
"You're perfect," she said, softly. "Go look."
I went into the bathroom where the biggest mirror in the suite was hanging on the back of the door. I closed the door and looked at the figure standing there.
It was a disaster. I looked like a fraud. My hand went to my mouth. The girl in the mirror did the same. Her teal eyes were wide with horror. Her long black hair fell in tangled waves down her shoulders. Despite hours of sunlight her skin was ghostly. She looked like she was trying to be someone she wasn't. She was a little girl playing dress-up and everyone would know it the moment they saw her.
"Targa?" I heard my mom's voice. "What do you think? She poked her head into the bathroom and the image in the mirror went out of my view.
As soon as she saw me, her face changed from happy to concerned. "What's wrong? You don't like it?" She came into the bathroom and shut the door. The fraud in the mirror reappeared.
"I don't want to go to the party anymore, Mom. I can't wear this. I don't feel like me.”
Mom stood behind me and pulled my hair away from my face and off my shoulders. She looked into my face in the mirror and I looked into hers. Hers was a face that belonged over a dress like this, not mine. We did look a lot alike, it was true, but she was older, more womanly. My face looked young, unfinished.
"Darling, look at your reflection and answer me this. Do you see a beautiful girl looking back at you?"
I looked. And yes, I knew that I had beauty. I nodded. The girl nodded along with me.
"Well, I don't," she said. "You know what I see?"
I shook my head.
"I see a creature so rare that humans don't even believe she exists. I see an invincible being who is only at the start of a life that will span multiple centuries." Her voice morphed into a quiet symphony of strings. Gooseflesh had come out on my skin, but she wasn't finished. The violins grew as she spoke. "I see a creature who will go places that humans can only dream of going. I see someone who is gifted with everything she needs to find a deep and satisfying love, with or without her siren abilities."
Her body had become luminescent, like a million microscopic lights were sweeping under her skin in waves. It reminded me of the bioluminescent algae that sometimes graced the shores of the ocean at night, churning onto the beach. Her eyes changed to an even more brilliant
blue and became lit from within like the luminescence lived in the iris of her eyes. Her voice was soft but held a promise of power. It was like listening to a hundred-piece orchestra playing low, with suppressed ability. "I see someone who knows when to go after what she wants, and when to sacrifice. I see a living legend, a myth come to life. I see my daughter, a mermaid."
I stared at her in the mirror, transfixed. A few moments of silence passed. "No wonder men find you irresistible," I said, finally. "If it's that important to you, I'll wear the bloody dress."
She laughed, her music fading away now and her luminescent skin and eyes dimming to normal. She let go of my hair and kissed me on the cheek. "Wear the dress. Don't wear the dress. Do whatever makes you happy. You have time to exchange it if you want to. Just come to the party. It will be dull as paint without you there."
Chapter 28
I didn't wear the dress. I tried it on half a dozen times and I liked wearing it in the privacy of my own room, but I knew I wouldn't be comfortable wearing it in public. It was too flashy, overstated. I would look like I was begging for attention. As a siren, with so many ways to attract men already built in, the dress felt like serious overkill.
So, I returned it and chose a strappy, black knee length dress with a lace overlay. It was elegant and comfortable. It came with a lace wrap to drop over my shoulders or wear as a scarf. I also ordered a pair of black vintage pumps, and thank goodness they fit. I put my hair up into a French twist and donned a simple pair of pearl earrings. I had a black clutch into which I tucked my phone and some lip-gloss. I felt good. My outfit was formal enough to be appropriate for the occasion, but simple enough that I wouldn't feel self-conscious all night.
Mom chose an emerald green column dress made of crepe. It was billowy and concealed her body most of the time but as she moved, it revealed a hint of shape. She wore a tiny pair of emerald studs in her ears which my father had given her and a matching necklace and bracelet. With her hair up in a messy bun and not a stitch of makeup on, she was stunning.