Siren's Secret

Tia Henrietta snapped off the small black-and-white TV in the corner.

“Sit.” She gestured to a grandma floral-print sofa that looked like a 1950s thrift shop throwaway.

Melkie carefully sat on the edge. Even with his wiry five-foot-eight-inch frame, he wasn’t confident the crappy furniture would hold. His eyes darted to a glass globe on the end table.

Still there.

He remembered coming here at age eight with his mom and two of her drunken whore friends. They’d stumbled in with their high heels and teased hair, dragging him along like a rag doll. Anita, his mom’s closest friend, had downed tequila shots all morning before deciding it would be a hoot to have Tia foretell her future.

Melkie had picked up the globe. Instead of the usual plastic orb with a trapped Santa Claus and snow swirls, this glass object had a mermaid figurine suspended in blue-tinted water. He had picked it up and shaken it, sending white-and-pink sand swirling around the mermaid.

Whack. A burst of pain had slashed hotly against a cheek.

“Put that down,” Mom had screamed. The globe slipped from his grasp onto the cheap linoleum and rolled. The wooden base broke off.

Could this really be the same one? Melkie picked it up and squinted at the pedestal.

“I hot-glued it back on,” Tia said. “That hot glue gun was the best damn thing I ever bought. That, and duct tape, pretty much holds everything together around here.”

He carefully placed it back on the coffee table. “You remember that day?”

Tia shrugged. “Yer mama is not an easy woman to forget. Heard she died of the cancer a few years back.”

Amen and thank heavens for that.

Tia sat across from him, folded hands in her lap. “So what brings you back here?”

Her eyes were smoldering coals, even beneath some weird kind of film at the corners. Probably cataracts, he guessed. Melkie shifted uncomfortably under the direct gaze. He hated anyone looking at him, especially close up. His fists tightened. Why, he ought to cut out those eyes.... He forced himself to focus and pointed at the globe. “They real? Mermaids, I mean.”

“Oh, they’s real awright.” She clicked her tongue. “Saw one when I was a teeny girl. I was picking up sharks’ teeth on the beach when somethin’ made me look up. And there she was. A beautiful redheaded siren not far from shore. Nekked from the waist up. When she caught my eye she winked and flipped her tail fin up in the air afore she dived back in the sea.”

Tia closed her eyes, a dreamy smile on her wrinkled face. “I ain’t never forgot her, neither.” She opened her eyes. “You seen one?”

“Maybe.”

“Where at?”

“None of your business,” he snapped. Nosy old woman.

“You’ve turned into a bitter, angry person,” she said after a moment of silence. “You’ve got a red aura with black streaks in it.” But there was no real bite in her voice, more a dispassionate observation. “Can’t says that’s a surprise. Given yer background and all.”

Melkie scowled. “Never mind my background, witch.”

“That’s no way to talk to an ol’ woman. ’Specially if you want information.”

Melkie reached in his wallet and slapped a twenty on the table. “Talk.”

“You a real smooth one,” Tia said, scooping up the money and stuffing it into her bra. “Whatcha wanna know?”

“Everything you know about mermaids.”

“That won’t take long.” She settled back in her rocker and took a dip of snuff. “Lots of folks ’round here claim they done seen mermaids. ’Course, not nearly so much over the last ten years. What with the increase in shrimping and the oil spills.”

Melkie frowned. “Don’t see why shrimping matters none. There’s always been family shrimping boats trolling the bayou.”

“Think about it. All those nets in the sea bother more’n just dolphins. Could be trouble to any sea creature afraid of being trapped.”

“And you think the oil spills out here can harm them, too.”

Tia spit into a plastic Coke bottle that served as a makeshift spittoon. “Been killin’ all kinds of wildlife out here including birds and crabs. No reason for nothing to hang around the Gulf no more.”

So why would a mermaid hang around? he wondered.

“Could be they’s done grown attached to this place.”

Time to get to the real matter at hand. “Is it possible for them to come on land? You know, grow feet or something?”

“I done heard a such. Usually ’cause they think they’s fallen in love with a human. Love’s a powerful thing.” She stopped rocking and leaned forward. “Have you fallen in love with a mermaid? That why you here?”

Melkie snorted. “Love? You really are crazy.”

Tia picked up the mermaid globe and pressed it into his hands. “A little something to remind you of yer mermaid.”

He scowled but kept it. “Tell me more. Ever hear of a mermaid living on land?”

“Used to be when I’s a little girl, some sailors claimed to have got them a mermaid, brought them home, and made them their wife. Usually didn’t end up so well for the husbands. Mermaids may leave the sea, but it always calls to them. Sooner or later, they’ll go back.”

“But they’re half human, too, and must have human needs.” Melkie ran a finger over the cold mermaid globe. “Maybe they wouldn’t have to leave. Not if they lived close to the shore. They could split their time, have the best of both worlds.”

“I suspect you’re right,” Tia agreed. “Back in the old days, locals believed mermaids lived amongst them, ’specially beautiful women new in town were looked on with suspicion. One of my papa’s friends, he was a fisherman, said he once saw a woman jump off a boat and turn into a mermaid. She swam away and never came back.”

“And you believed him?”

“Why not? I done seen plenty a strange things in my lifetime.” She stopped rocking and tilted her head to one side. “I think lots of folks done forgot why the bayou’s called ‘La Siryna.’”

“Thought it was some French word.”

“I don’t know if it was Frenched up, but it’s named for the sirens.”

Melkie wrinkled his brow. “But you said the bayou was named after mermaids.”

“Same thing. Folks used to say the mermaids—sirens—could sing so’s a man would fall instantly in love with her.”

Melkie pictured the mermaid at sea. He couldn’t deny what he’d seen with his own eyes. He’d better face up to it and find her before she got him in trouble.

Tia lashed out weathered hands, scarred at the base of every finger, and caught his right one in hers, exposing his palms. He flinched at the contact and tried to pull away, but the old woman’s hands were surprisingly strong. Tia moved a callused finger over his palm lines before letting go. Those perceptive eyes blazed at him.

“Yer filled with hatred and rage,” she warned. “Learn to control yourself or the anger inside will be yer death.”