A SIREN IN SPRING

Summer was no fun. I was in bed for almost three months only moving around for light exercises and to strong-arm an innate tolerance to the climate. Carle had stated that we were going to lose past ourselves to become more like the land-dwellers. I had accepted that fate and guessed that Carle had accepted it too, seeing that he was doing the most to enjoy the quirks he had from still being a siren.

It wasn't until one week that the local papers printed any news on the Hedakers. Carle had only said that he handled them but in what fashion? I hadn't known until I picked Mr Silvan's newspaper.

The headline read:

HEDAKERS TO INDEFINITELY CANCEL TRIP

I skimmed the piece under the section and even the reporting was vague. It made no mention of a destroyed yacht but only pointed out 'personal incentive' of Lilnton Hedaker to cancel the trip. If Carle had sunk the yacht surely it would have appeared in the news. I wagered he used his siren to call it off to avoid dragging out the case. Before I put that down the paper, I caught a familiar image by the corner of my eye. It was the picture of the boat Carle had thrashed.

I still remember him clawing at it, his palms jointed and polished like fine black pearls. His wrists ridden with shiny cerulean scales. From the article public speculation was that some animal or beast had broken into the home at 14 Bloomreich Ave. A beast indeed. A beast called Carle. The residents of Ver Mon Lagho were not superstitious types. Though I had oftentimes heard deep sea tales of ghost ships and five hundred year old apparitions, they were mostly stories for gullible tourists. There was stated to be an ongoing investigation surrounding the issue.

But cases the sheriff and his office couldn't solve in the first month were much more likely to remain unsolved. There were only two contacts on Mr Silvan's feature phone. One of them being the number of the other phone he always kept on him in case I needed to call him. I never did call him; I could pull through on my own. The second number was unsaved but I knew it had to be Dylan's grandmother's contact. I was rung up by the number early one morning. Dylan's grandma would be expecting to hear Mr Silvan's voice not knowing he had given me his phone for the summer. I picked up.

"Good morning. You won't be able to reach Mr Silvan on this line. He has a second number that I can give you." I told her immediately.

"Yara?" It was Dylan's voice.

"Oh Dylan. I thought it was your grandma calling."

He did not say anything.

"I am sorry for the other day."

"Don't be. I am not angry… anymore."

"Thank you."

"Your grandpa said your summer allergy has kicked up."

"Yes. It has." I coughed.

"Sorry."

"Thanks."

"I saw the news about the Hedakers. Your plan worked huh?"

I wanted to ask him, 'What plan?' I wanted to say, 'The whole thing was a complete failure.' But, I did not have the strength to mince words explaining myself. So, I just went with, "Yeah it worked."

"I see."

"Joseph told me he saw the Hedakers leaving town."

"Who's Joseph?" I asked.

"Just a friend in school."

"Oh." 

We devolved into awkward silence after which I asked, "Why did you call Dylan?"

"My grandma wanted to tell Mr Silvan that she would not be opening today. We have an event to attend."

"What event?"

"One of my aunts is getting married."

"That's cool."

"Yeah."

"I'll pass on the message to Mr Silvan."

"Thanks. Goodbye, Yara. Take care of yourself."

I phoned Mr Silvan afterwards and delivered the message to him. I went back to sleep again. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Sometimes walk around the house to acclimate to the weather. These activities—if they could be called that—made up most of my summer.

When high summer had calmed and the signs of fall began to show, I ventured out, albeit well covered, with Carle. We got in his speedboat again only that this time I didn't put on a wetsuit. Carle had been trying to convince me on the way to "make an effort."

"Leaving my house is effort enough. We are technically still in summer."

He gave up after that.

We anchored somewhere in the middle of the ocean and for an instance there I felt I would puke. I faced away from the sun and didn't bother to watch the flips and twirls Carle had perfected. There were no blue whales this time, just Carle swimming about with a white wash of water in tow. When he finished he climbed onto the bow of the boat and dried himself with a towel.

I rested on the windshield and beckoned to him, "You know, when I first saw you I thought you were just another vacationer until you told me you were just like me."

He jostled the towel about his hair.

"You have not really told me anything about how you are living. Except that you come here to swim, of course. So I am guessing the museum director isn't your Dad, right?"

Carle did not answer at once. I felt his weight on the boat as he tried to reach into cockpit and even gave him a hand to help him over. He sat, relaxed, and said, "There's not much to know. I am sure you have figured out that I am using my voice on him."

"You always seem free. I just want to know more. You know almost everything about me, where I work, where I stay. I don't even know where you stay." I sat across from him.

"I live in a motel," he said, reluctantly.

"Alone or with your Dad?"

"Alone. And stop calling him my Dad." He didn't come off as being annoyed. He merely spoke matter-of-factly.

"Okay? Where is the museum director staying if not with you?"

"You can just call him Dave."

"Where is Dave staying?" I asked again.

"I met Dave when I arrived at Ver Mon Lagho. I compelled him to wire me money until... I don't remember." He pondered dryly. "Until I am tired I guess."

"So you never got to know him or live with him or—"

"I don't need to fraternize with someone for my siren to work."

"That's not what I meant." I shook my head. "Nevermind. How do you live in the city?"

"Hmm..." He posed like he was in deep thinking. "I am married in the city."

"Oh." I had not expected that. "Did you siren her?"

"You believe that?" He scoffed. "I am only kidding. I am not married or engaged or in a relationship or whatever."

"Are you avoiding the question?"

"What question?"

"I asked you how you lived in the city?"

"That's a boring question."

"Are you rich?" I ignored his dismissive sentiments.

"Pfft. Obviously."

"Are you surrounded by friends?"

"I don't need friends."

"You are always reaching out to me."

"You are different. We are of the same kind."

"Are you being pursued?"

He paused and eyed me, flabbergasted. "Why do you think that?"

"Well you don't seem to want to leave my town. Are you being pursued?"

"I am not answering that."

"Okay. You said a while ago that not counting me there was one other siren you know."

"I was just trying to make you comfortable. I haven't met any other siren."

"You are lying."

"I am not."

"Alright then." I removed my boots, the pair of them and tied their laces together then swung them around my neck.

"What are you doing?" Carle asked.

"There's no point of me being here. I don't want to swim. I don't like the sun." I sat at the edge of the boat and put my feet in the water. "I am trying to make small talk with you but you seem to be avoiding any kind of discourse. You can wallow in the peace of the ocean alone. The curse of our exile still makes me nauseous."

"You'll wet your cloth." He scoffed. "You don't even know the way home."

I ignored him and slipped into the water, stretching forth my arms in a gesture to dive.

"Okay. Yara. You've won. Get back into the boat. I will tell you everything."

I looked back at him. "If you are snarky or you try to talk sideways, I'll leave."

"Deal. Get back in."

He helped me into the boat and I at once regretted that bold gesture of entering the water. My summer illness returned double fold and sorrow of losing myself overwhelmed me.

"Give me a moment." I took a brief time to recover. "You can tell me now."

Carle dramatically removed his contacts so that I saw the red as he spoke. "When I got into that oil tanker and found civilisation, I still felt lost and sick. Much like you are now. The first year, I was homeless. I could have compelled someone to let me stay with them but I was... afraid of everyone, of speaking to them, of touching them."

"Why?"

"No one was there to teach me. You had your Mr Silvan. You learnt how to pick up on social cues through him. I didn't have that. No one told me where to cross or where not to cross. And I could not read the language. My first night I walked into a restaurant ordered food and could not pay up. Some guards bundled me out and called the cops on me. I tried compelling one of them and I got pistol whipped and beaten up by another one of them. I thought land-dwellers somehow knew when we tried to compel them and didn't ever attempt using my siren again." He laughed. "I was an idiot. I realized one year later that I was pistol whipped because my command to the cop was 'Kill your friend.' You can imagine how that sounded."

"What happened after your first year?"

"Towards the end of the first year, I started using my voice again. To steal change from passerby and all that. I hadn't compelled anyone to perform any outrageous demands. I was still afraid that heftier commands will get me a beating. The second year was when I met this other siren. Much much older than both of us. In fact when I met him he had lost his claws and was on the verge of losing his siren. He taught me everything I know. He named me."

"What's his name?"

"Charles. You see the connection. Carle. Charles."

I nodded.

"I am hoping that you will one day meet him."

I didn't know what to think of that. "Maybe... one day?" I eventually stammered.

"You sound unsure."

"I am not thinking of leaving Mr Silvan anytime soon."

"So you want to stay here?" He chuckled.

"Why not?"

"Look. I am not saying it's bad but you need to see the world."

"You hate land-dwellers."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He hadn't even denied it. He fondled a bag for another towel. "Nevermind." He turned away.

"I may have been too blunt. Sorry."

He didn't turn back however. I understood the feeling of fellow sirens needing to band together and didn't want to beguile him for it. It was true that I was fortunate to experience the good side of land-dwellers in Mr Silvan and other valued company.

"So did Charles tell you all you know about sirens?" I asked in an attempt to brighten the mood.

"Mm-hmm." He still didn't turn back but he sounded less angry.

"How did he come to know all these things? We both lost most of our memories of the underworld."

Carle turned around now. I hadn't even noticed when he put his contacts back on. "I never bothered to ask him," he said.

"Perhaps one day we can ask him," I purposefully said.

Carle grinned. "You'll come with me then?"

"Still considering. But it won't hurt to meet another one of us."

Carle leaned back and sighed. "We should argue less."

I equally leaned back on the upholstered chair, not minding that my cloth was wet; I muttered, "I agree."