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The moon rippled on the midnight water.
Its shape swelled, bent, swirled. The waves crashed and the image shattered – but the winds sighed and the cool air breathed across the sea and the moon was whole again.
She broke the surface. The sky was cold but not oppressive; her dark hair clung to her face as she raised a dripping arm towards the bright moon.
When she sang, it did not answer.
---
She saved a human, one day.
When her arms seized the body and her hands tangled in golden hair, the little mermaid glanced down for a moment. It was a woman – a young woman, narrow-shouldered and small-waisted and barely a day over twenty. A blue ribbon fluttered away in the distance, fleeing from her hand.
The little mermaid didn’t go after it.
When the young woman looked desperately for it, it was already too late.
---
Her name was Adelheid.
She wandered, listless, aimless and silent. Her feet trod a lonely path in the yellow sand and her loose dress swayed in the wind and she stared out at the sea, searchingly, wistfully.
The little mermaid watched. There was something melancholic about Adelheid; her eyes were a beautiful blue-green that the little mermaid might have seen just once in her life. There was a mystery in them, the subtle thrill of the unknown. The little mermaid couldn’t look away.
So she watched, and didn’t make a sound.
---
She was found, eventually.
Or perhaps Adelheid knew all along. “Come out,” the young woman snapped one day, her voice sharp. “I know you’re there. What do you want from me?”
So the little mermaid swam to the sandy shores, and let the breeze play with her shining hair.
She took a breath, and sang.
---
They met, again and again.
It wasn’t a coincidence and they both knew it, but the observation went unmentioned. At first it was the beautiful eyes and then it was the slim small-breasted figure – then it was Adelheid herself, her mind and her soul, which reeled the little mermaid in day after day.
They talked, sometimes, about mermaids and humans and their separate worlds. Adelheid had never seen the seabed, or learned how to swim. If she had, she wouldn't have been drowning that day.
But for the most part there was silence; and in that silence, the little mermaid sang. Her voice rose with the tide, fell as the circling gulls flew home, and faded into the salty air when the orange sun sank beneath the watery horizon and it was time to go back. The waves surged forth, drew back, and surged forth again; they were alone together at the precipice, at the meeting of two worlds. It was wonderful.
And the little mermaid sang more beautifully once she realised that she was in love.
---
The knife tore at her scales.
If she wanted to be human, that was the price she’d have to pay.
---
Her name was Sophia.
It was a name the little mermaid picked out herself – it was a pretty name, she thought, with a gentle cadence. When she woke up alone in a bed and raised her long legs, she realised that this was the first of many things that’d have to change.
The pain was fresh, and new, and constant. Knives carved into her feet with every step – it ached terribly, and when Adelheid walked in Sophia collapsed into the other’s shocked embrace. She breathed in deeply, reassuring herself with the comforting scent of long blonde hair; but when she opened her mouth to say “I love you”, only a strangled whisper of air escaped her lips.
She couldn’t speak.
Somehow, that was what hurt the most.
---
She’d thought they’d live together in a small cottage by the seashore.
But Sophia was wrong. All they had was a tiny rented room in the upper floor of an inn that Adelheid called home. It was a sliver of space in a massive town, tucked away in the corner furthest from the sea – and if Adelheid hadn’t had the habit of taking an hour-long walk to the beach at the crack of dawn, Sophia would never have seen her again.
They tried to walk there the next day, but the pain was red-hot under her feet and Sophia crumbled not half an hour in. “Carry me,” she mouthed, “Please,” but Adelheid had to make a living and her arms were already full of clothes.
In the end Sophia didn’t reach the sea that day, or the day after, or any day at all. Instead she sat on the bed and watched silently as Adelheid sewed and embroidered and stitched repairs for other people.
This wasn’t anything new. After a week of pacing aimlessly Adelheid had found a job as a seamstress, and whenever she sat at the beach her hands were always busy. But she was always free to talk if she wanted to, and when she fell silent Sophia would fill the salty air with song.
That couldn’t happen anymore. Now all Sophia could think was that whenever Adelheid’s silver needle caught the light it was almost blinding –
And though she strained to listen, the sea was too far away for her to hear anything.
---
They didn’t talk.
Yet there was a warmth in their silence, in the occasional smile that Sophia glimpsed on Adelheid’s face. Sometimes she made something for Sophia, a dress or a hair tie or an embroidered violet flower. Once, Adelheid returned from the marketplace with a beautiful clip – the amethyst sparkling in its centre wasn’t the real thing, for Adelheid could never afford an actual gem, but it was wonderful nonetheless.
Carefully, Adelheid gathered Sophia’s dark hair and secured it with the clip.
Her hands were calloused.
But they were the most beautiful hands that Sophia had ever seen.
---
They didn’t talk about Adelheid’s past.
Three months passed, and Sophia didn’t know where the woman she loved was born; six months, and she still didn’t know why Adelheid had been there that starry night, thrown overboard by a storm’s fury.
“What did that ribbon mean to you?” Sophia wanted to ask – but she couldn’t speak, and even if she could there was no doubt in her mind that Adelheid wouldn’t answer.
When she found out, it was already too late.
---
She stole a kiss.
Adelheid shoved her away wide-eyed, and fled the room.
The door slammed behind her.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
---
Adelheid tried to ignore her after that.
The room spun wildly around Sophia, round and round and her head roared with noise. “Look at me!” she tried to scream, but her voice died in her throat and her fake legs were heavy and her borrowed knees hit the floor with a dull thud – “Look at me!” Her eyes filled with tears. “Look at all I gave up for you! Look at how much I’m suffering for you! Look at – Look at – !”
But Adelheid didn’t turn around.
---
Two days went by before Adelheid forgave her.
Two days went by before Sophia blamed herself. When the realisation dawned it was cast away, unwelcome – but as the clock ticked on and Sophia stared at the bruises fading away on her knees she couldn’t deny it any longer.
She’d never been entitled to Adelheid’s love.
---
She didn’t try anything after that.
Instead Sophia gazed distantly at the needle in Adelheid’s nimble fingers, and thought. Something itched in her legs; she rubbed her ankles together, but the discomfort didn’t go away. She’d never truly be human – Sophia knew that, she’d always known that, but it was worth it.
For Adelheid’s love, anything was worth it.
She was a fool to think that someone’s heart could be won so easily.
---
She stayed.
It was a mistake – everything she’d done was a mistake, and now the mistakes had piled upon more mistakes and she couldn’t find the strength to dig herself out. It wasn’t too late. Her tail remained, glittering in the musty darkness of Adelheid’s cabinet – if Sophia found a way back to the sea and slipped her tail back on, she’d be a mermaid once more.
She’d finally be whole again.
---
Something changed.
The feeling that once swelled in Sophia’s chest faded, slowly, silently. Adelheid hadn’t changed – but one day Sophia looked at her and didn’t feel anything at all.
She cried. Something that once made her so happy, so madly happy, had been lost forever – the fierce tide had washed away and all that lingered in its wake was a cool regard, a calm, meaningless nothing that echoed in the empty air.
For nothing lasted forever – not even love.
---
The sea called out to her.
It was there, so near but so far, so close but so distant – the waves lapped against Sophia’s ears and the gulls wailed in her memory, but her feet screamed in agony and she knew she wouldn’t make it to the shore.
Adelheid looked at her. Adelheid had been looking at her rather often, recently.
Sophia didn’t know why.
---
Adelheid tried to talk about her past.
A helpless pain struggled in her eyes – she looked away, took a breath and met Sophia’s gaze – then her words died in her throat and suddenly tears were spilling down her cheeks.
She buried her head in her hands, and shrank away from Sophia’s embrace. “It was – his,” she sobbed, “The ribbon was his, my – my little brother’s, and I made it for h-him.” Adelheid drew her knees to her face. “He wore it around – around his neck, and – when they brought his body back after they – after they pulled him from the sea, I – I kept it.”
In a sharp movement she whipped around to face Sophia. “Why?” she shouted. Her eyes were red and swollen. “Why me, and not him?” Adelheid grabbed Sophia’s shoulders with trembling hands and shook her violently. “Why was I saved, when he was left to drown? Why? Tell me why!”
Then all her strength vanished in an instant and her head fell weakly against Sophia’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Sophia tried to say.
But she couldn’t speak.
---
They didn’t talk about what happened.
Sophia thought that Adelheid was embarrassed by the outburst – sometimes she saw Adelheid gazing at her, and wondered if her presence was a reminder of everything the other had lost.
It was yet another reason for Sophia to leave as soon as possible.
---
She wasn’t listening to Adelheid, at first.
The evening light filtered through the small window, softly, silently. Dust, borne carelessly by the still air, danced carelessly in the light’s wake; it was a mundane sight, and yet it was mesmerising in its simplicity, intriguing in its meaninglessness; it reminded her of –
“…You once tried to kiss me.”
Sophia turned to stare, confused and a little ashamed, at Adelheid.
The sun’s dying rays had cast themselves like a veil over Adelheid’s head; her hair shone dark gold in the light, eye-catching in the sparsely decorated room. She took a step forward, then another – suddenly she seemed to catch herself, and quickly looked at the wall behind Sophia while blinking rapidly at nothing.
Her face was flushed. She opened her mouth, and closed it again; Sophia’s heart sank as the person she once loved said, “Do you still…?”
Whatever Adelheid had been hoping for, whatever she’d been dreaming of was killed by a single shake of Sophia’s head.
Adelheid turned, wide-eyed, and fled the room.
The door slammed behind her.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
---
They didn’t talk about it.
Adelheid sat silently and sewed. The silver needle caught the light to glare at Sophia; it dove into the fabric with a new aggression, as though this were the only outlet for Adelheid’s feelings.
The sea roared in Sophia’s mind.
She had to leave.
---
She dreamed of home.
In her dreams she was free once again, free to dart through the water and gaze at the sun and reach for the moon. There were no leaden human legs to trap her in one spot and there was no pain that lashed insistently through her feet with every movement – she could go wherever she wanted whenever she wanted and she broke the surface of the water with a laugh because she was finally back, back in the sea, and she’d been longing to sing for so long and –
The little mermaid opened her eyes.
For a moment she’d been there, tasted the sea salt on her tongue and felt the water rush through her hair. She could feel it still, cool on her face, making her skin tingle and her heart race.
She had to go back.
Someone was holding her hand – the little mermaid scarcely remembered who, and didn’t spare a glance at the person lying beside her. She leapt from the bed, heedless of the pain that stabbed at her bare feet; in one movement she tore the closet door open, and paused for a moment to gaze entranced at the silvery scales that glittered in the darkness – then she grabbed her tail and fumbled with the keys and unlocked the door and ran into the night.
The grass was slippery and the air was damp with old rain – the little mermaid ran and ran and fell and picked herself up and ran on. She dove into the forest, her feet burning in agony, and she weaved between trees and jumped over fallen branches and ran and ran. There were footfalls behind her, someone’s ragged breath, the desperate cry of a name – but it was a name that the little mermaid no longer recognised, and didn’t care for anymore.
She ran. The sea raised its voice to call out to her, and if she stretched her arms out, if she reached a little farther, surely she could touch it – it was so close, so close that she felt as though she were already there, slipping back into the water –
“Wait!” someone shouted, and the little mermaid felt tears roll down her cheeks, though she didn’t know why – at her back was someone she’d once loved, someone she’d cared about, someone she was going to leave behind. “I’m sorry,” she tried to say, “I’m sorry – ” but she couldn’t speak, and it was all too late.
One bend then another and she was home, home again! The sea was dark under the night sky – the water beckoned to her, sang to her through the night, and she was running out of the trees and her feet were scattering the sand and her ankles were underwater and she was up to her chest and –
“Stop!”
The little mermaid stilled.
“Don’t you dare!” Her pursuer staggered into the water, breathing heavily. “If you take another step, I’ll – ” The voice was shaky. “Please. Don’t go. I – I – ”
“I’m sorry,” said the little mermaid.
She slipped into her tail. Iridescent under the moonlight, it bent and stretched, morphed and twisted, and she gasped as her legs slammed together and became one limb, as the scales crept up her pelvis and the fins sprang to life –
“Please,” someone begged. “Don’t go where I can’t reach you. Don’t vanish into the sea like – like him. Come back. Please. I – ”
The little mermaid turned, one last time.
“I was never supposed to meet you,” she said. “Our worlds weren’t supposed to collide.”
“Sophia!”
“I know that now.” The little mermaid raised the dress she was wearing over her head, and sent it floating ashore. It was her last worldly possession. “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry.”
The young woman fell to the ground. “Wait! I – I –”
The little mermaid looked away.
“Goodbye.”
And she was gone.
---
The moon rippled on the midnight water.
Its shape swelled, bent, swirled. The waves crashed and the image shattered – but the winds sighed and the cool air breathed across the sea and the moon was whole again.
She broke the surface. The sky was cold but not oppressive; her dark hair clung to her face as she raised a dripping arm towards the bright moon.
When she sang, it did not answer.
And quietly, without a sound, the little mermaid sank into the depths from whence she came.