The Surface Breaks(21)

“But maybe my mother isn’t lost.” I watch my grandmother close her eyes as if in pain but I press on, regardless. “We never had a body to bury. Maybe if I go to the surface, I can find out what happened, finally discover the truth of it all. What if she’s still up there, waiting for us to find her?”

“Stop it, Muirgen.” Grandmother’s voice is ragged. “Your mother swam too close to the shore. She was impetuous and headstrong. She was taken by the humans and she died in captivity. That is the end of it.”

“But it doesn’t make sense. Father said that she chose to go, that she left us of her own free will – but he also said that she was captured. Which is it? And you always said that mermaids are too wily for the humans’ nets, so how did they take my mother if—”

“Muirgen. I said enough. The Sea King told us what happened. His word is law.”

I cannot deny the truth of that. None of us can. “Was he upset when she was taken?” I ask instead.

“What?”

“The Sea King. Was he upset when my mother was taken?”

She hesitates, but only for a second. “Of course he was upset. He was outraged. As he should be, he had lost his wife, the mother of his children. He was…” She breaks off, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to talk about this any more. It was a difficult time for us all. I still don’t know why your mother did what she did. I thought I had raised her better than that.”

“I don’t think she loved my father,” I say. “It must be very hard to be bonded to someone who you don’t love.”

“Oh, Muirgen.” She softens. “I’m sorry. Zale isn’t a bad man, I’m sure of it.”

You are wrong there, Grandmother.

“He’s so old,” I say. “The bonding age is twenty. Can’t I have a few more years, at least?”

“Your father was sixty-three when he was bonded to your mother, and she was only sixteen. Exceptions are made, from time to time.”

And I will be sixteen too. Soon. So very soon. “But I want—”

“I’ve told you before, wanting has never brought anyone in this family any luck,” she says. “A woman wanting more than what she can have only results in pain and loss and small children crying for someone who will never return. Wanting has brought—” She stops herself. “Muirgen,” she says, more calmly. “All you need to know is that the humans are different to us. They don’t even believe that we exist, not really. They tell stories about mermaids, stories they believe to be myths, legends. They are fascinated by us, and terrified by us as well. Do not underestimate that fear, and what they might do with it. Some men are very afraid of women, my child. And those men long for us the most, and are the most dangerous when they do not get what they want.”

“But why would they be afraid of us? We have no powers.”

“Of course we don’t,” she says, looking away from me. “But the humans do not understand that. They fear that their men will be overcome with madness and dive into the depths of the water to make a bride of one of us, finding only death instead. And then they blame us, as men have always blamed women, for prompting their lust, for fuelling their insatiable greed for something they cannot have.”

“But…” I know that I am about to say the unsayable. “Why can’t they have us? If that is something a mermaid wants in return. What is to prevent it then?”

My grandmother skims her fingers across my tail. “Have you forgotten something?” she says. “The humans find our tails disgusting.” I stare at the dark green scales flecked with silver, catching the moonlight and making it seem as if I am aglow.

I can believe that. I can believe it easily.

A mermaid or a monster? What is the difference?

“Yes,” she continues, mistaking my silence for shock. “They prefer their own legs, those clumsy stumps that allow them to walk upright. It is most puzzling.”

“But could they…”

“Could they what, child?”

“Could a human learn to love someone with a fish’s tail, do you think?” I hold my breath.

“No,” she says, not ungently, and I feel something split inside my chest. “A man would need a woman with legs. For all our beauty, to the humans we are freaks, curios.” She rubs her eyes and I can see how weary she has become.

“If only…” I whisper. “If only I could find a way to…”

“Find a way to what?”

“A way…” Grandmother leans in to hear me properly. “Find a way to grow human legs. Father has powers – perhaps he could…”

She rears back. “Have you gone mad, child? The Sea King despises the humans, especially after what happened to your mother. He would rather see you dead than what you’re suggesting.”

She is right. My father would rather bury me in the shifting sands than see me happy with a human above the surface, and a part of me always knew that. I must obey his rules, be a good girl and live the life that he has chosen for me. I will wait here in the kingdom until the end comes and my soul is scattered on the waves for the fish to feed on.

“You are of the sea, child,” my grandmother says. “This is where you belong.”

But I do not want to belong here.