Siren Song

        Visiting the old beach house this summer was supposed to be a good chance to get away from it all. By “it all”, I mean my dad. He died four months ago, but he’s still everywhere. I saw him in his favorite chair that sits in the corner of the living room. I saw him in his jacket that still hangs in the closet at home. It smells like the cinnamon gum he always used to chew. Sometimes, when my mom’s at work, I would sneak into the coat closet and bury my face in it, trying to remember him at his best, instead of his last three months at the hospital fighting a losing battle with brain cancer.

               My mom started to go to therapy after the funeral. She tried dragging me along a few times, but gave up pretty quickly after I made it clear I wasn’t going to talk to a stranger about my problems. It was good for her, though. She cried a little less after a few sessions, though I was still careful never to mention dad. I didn’t want to upset her.

               My Aunt Becky came over for dinner one night. Mom and I didn’t talk much, but Becky made up for our silence and then some. I vaguely remembered her from the funeral, but that was the only time I’d ever really met her. She’s my dad’s older sister, but he never spoke of her. It felt like she came out of nowhere, like a headache.

               Becky was the one who suggested the summer trip. The beach house was owned by the family, and everyone took turns using it each year. “You can take it instead of me,” she said, her New York accent heavier than usual, “it’s what he would’ve wanted.” Yeah, right. I was pretty sure what he would’ve wanted would be an extra few years, or my aunt to have actually called him once in a while.

               My mom, however, thought it would be a great idea, so within the week we were packed and on the road.

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               The beach house was nice enough, if a little tackily decorated. Lots of those false weather-worn signs saying things like “It’s Always A Good Day At The Beach” and “Gone Swimmin’”. But I had my own room facing the water, which wasn’t too bad. It was a great view, especially at night when the reflection of the sky made it look like the water was full of shining stars.

               Most days, I sat in the sweltering heat on the back porch, staring at the water. My mom was almost never at the house, instead preferring to walk aimlessly around the town. I’d heard the locals whispering about her, and I knew mom heard them too, but I don’t think she cared. At least she wasn’t drinking or something.

               Three days into our vacation, I opened the fridge to find nothing. The pantry was in the same state, minus a dusty half sleeve of crackers that were so stale I doubt they could be considered food anymore. I threw them into the trash in disgust and went out the door, walking in the direction of the nearest convenience store.

               The place was mostly deserted when I got there, but a couple of local guys were chatting near the door. They all had tattoo sleeves and wore too tight shirts with flower patterns on them. I sidestepped past them towards the chip aisle, listening in to see if they had anything interesting to say.

               Most of what they were talking about consisted of trucks and their newest girlfriends, and I was about to tune them out when one of them noticed me in the back of the store and smirked. I turned away in disgust. The guy who saw me interrupted the others to say, “You know those stories they tell the kids? About the mermaids?” The other looked confused for a moment, but then they noticed me too and flashed twin smiles that showed too many bleached white teeth. “Yeah, what of it?” the guy with the blue shirt asked. The first guy feigned secrecy and stage-whispered “They’re real. I saw one last night.”

               They both looked over at me as if they were operating with one mind, though it was more like one braincell. I shook my head, annoyed, and tried to move past them to the cashier to pay for my stuff. The leader looking one grabbed my wrist tight, forcing me to look at his spray-tanned face, which was suddenly far too close for comfort. “Be careful, girlie. Sirens love their meals young and fresh.” His breath stank like rotten fruit. I yanked my arm from his grasp and bolted, not even bothering to pay. The cashier didn’t even look up from the magazine he was reading.

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               Their laughter seemed to follow me all the way back to the house, only stopping when I slammed the door, locking it for good measure. Then I slowly let myself slump to the floor, letting go of the chips and lukewarm water I’d stolen. I wasn’t sorry. If the cashier was letting guys like that loiter around and harass teenagers, he deserved to be robbed.

               I made my way back to my usual perch on the back porch and looked out at the water, remembering what the man had said. Sirens. I had a feeling he didn’t mean the firetruck sort, so I looked it up on my phone. Turns out they’re a type of mythological creature, a Fey or Faerie, that lives in the ocean and calls to humans with an irresistible song, and then drown you. It sounded pretty ridiculous to me, but I shivered involuntarily despite the heat.

               I must’ve fallen asleep on the creaky chair on the porch outside, because the next thing I knew, it was dark out. I stretched and turned around to head inside and to my bed, but something made me pause. I stared intently at the ocean, still and starry. The only sound that could be heard was the quiet lapping of the waves against the rocky shore. I shook my head, berating myself for letting the day’s events freak me out. That didn’t stop me from getting inside as quickly as I could and closing the curtains, leaving the room blanketed in darkness.

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               That night, I dreamed about my dad. My vision was fuzzy, wherever we were, but I could see him clearly. He was calling for me, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was music. It was beautiful and terrible all at once, but he looked happy and beckoned me closer. I woke up crying silently, wishing that it hadn’t been a dream.

                My mom seemed to have vanished entirely since we unpacked on the day we got to the small town. She was up at the crack of dawn and got back late every evening, always while I was asleep. I had let her be, since she seemed ok. I think I reminded her too much of dad.

               Nothing had really happened the next day, so by the time the sun set I was bored out of my mind. I briefly considered going out to the water for a swim or something, but thought better of it when I noticed the storm clouds rolling in. As soon as I saw them, thunder rumbled, as if the sky was waiting for me to watch. I stayed outside, laying on my back on one of the nearby flat rocks. The beach had more stone than sand, but I didn’t mind. They kept people from bothering me and spoiling the view.

               Soon enough, the storm began, a symphony of the sky. There were a few gaps in the clouds where I could still see the stars, but those were covered quickly. The only light now was the not-so-distant lightning flashes, accompanied by roaring thunder. Then the rain fell. It didn’t start as a trickle or tiny splashes; it just began all at once. It was beautiful and terrible, like the song from my dream.

               Before I knew it, I was humming the melody. I sat up, swaying, and in a daze I turned towards the churning waters. The waves were steadily getting bigger, and the tide coming in. In the back of my mind I knew I had to move, but I stayed there, my feet rooted to the smooth stone. The water brushed against my toes, as if comforting me, saying it was all ok and I was safe there.

               Suddenly, I opened my mouth and started to scream, overwhelmed by grief for my dad and anger at my mother for giving up on me. But it came out as the Sirens’ song, because that was what it was. Tears streamed down my face, but I wasn’t sad anymore. All I felt was relief. This is what I’d been waiting for. This was what I’d wanted, since the day my dad breathed his last. The waves were at my knees now, and still I sang. The music was indescribable, as if my very soul was escaping my throat in the form of sound.

               Distantly at first, and then all around me, I heard other songs like mine, coming from the ocean. Then their faces appeared, rising from the waters. They were crying for me, as if feeling the pain I felt. They called me sister, and Daughter of the Sea. They wanted me to come to them, and I eagerly reached for their outstretched hands. I was the sea. A force of nature. A Siren. I was home.