Voice of the Ocean

                                       Voice of the Ocean

           The ship was much larger than she expected. Sirena stood there, pamphlet in hand, which displayed a sketch of a large wooden ship with the date, time and fees for passengers. “Going to the New World,” it said in bold letters. She scanned the dock to make sure she was in the right place, watching sailors with grey caps and scarves moving large crates on board. This must be it.

           Her hands shook as she folded the pamphlet and tucked it into her bag, which carried a few clothes, a journal, and her coin purse.

           Sirena kept telling herself she wasn’t ready. She nervously bit her nails every day leading up to this moment. As she inched closer to the ship, she noticed light waves splashing up against barnacles on the hull.

           A man on board waved a bell in the air and announced something indecipherable to the men who were moving supplies. It seemed like he was trying to speed up their departure.     

           Sirena took a deep breath.

           Clutching her wool shawl, she took her first step onto the plank. And there she stopped, seized with fear as she stared at the water below.

           “Miss.” A man with salty blonde hair and a green vest waved at her from the other side of the plank. “Miss?” he chirped a little louder, successfully breaking Sirena out of her trance. “You coming aboard then?”

           She nodded and bit her lip as she walked onto the ship. For these sailors, it was just another day at sea. But for her, it was the biggest transition she would ever make. A portal to a new life where she could finally be free and leave her memories behind.

           “Just you, then?”

           “Yes. Why?”

           “Not used to seeing women traveling alone. No offense, m’lady.”

           “I already paid the captain a couple days ago.”

           “Ah. Well the cabins are taken up so you’ll be with us in the hammocks below deck. You alright with that?”

           “I have to be, don’t I?”

           The man smiled and welcomed her onto the ship.

*                                *                                 *                                 *                                 

           The first few days were fine. Sirena ate by herself on a barrel in the corner of the deck. The porridge was bland, but if it was the price of a new life, she didn’t mind it one bit. Sometimes she would catch Mitch, the blonde sailor, staring at her during meals. He always looked away when she looked back at him. For whatever reason, she felt more comfortable with him there.

           A few days turned into a week. That weekend, the sailors took out what instruments they had and played some shanties. Almost everyone knew ‘Green Grow the Rushes, O.’ Sirena loved that song. So much that she closed her journal to sing along from her hammock below deck.

           The next day, Mitch approached her at breakfast. “’eard you singing last night.” Sirena tensed, unaware that anyone else had been downstairs. “You should join us next time!”

           “I’m not a singer.”

           “Well then why you singin’?”

           Sirena sighed. “My father…he loved that song.”

           “Ah,” Mitch quietly replied. He noticed her pained expression. “I’ll leave ya to it, then.”

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 

           The second week was the one that brought the storms. Just as she was getting comfortable with the journey, Sirena started missing land. Most of the crew was on deck, moving excess seawater overboard with buckets and tying ropes.

           Mitch thoughtfully brought Sirena a bucket to puke in. “You know--for the--” He gestured around his stomach area. She looked up at him, pale and sweaty. “Erm…if you get sick.” He ambled away, returning to the deck.

           She used to wish that someone was there when she was feeling this ill. But not this time. She didn’t want anyone to see her this way, so she was grateful for Mitch’s awkward retreat.

           As she vomited her porridge into the bucket, she saw flashes of something. Her father, telling her what a beautiful day it was. Followed by a song--a mournful melody she didn’t recognize.

           The next morning she woke up to Mitch’s face. “Storm’s passed. You alright?” He handed her a canteen filled with fresh water, which she immediately opened and sipped while nodding.

           “Thank you.”

           “She speaks!” He flashed a grin. “Should be calmer waters for the next few days. Breakfast is ready.”

           She handed him the canteen and proceeded to open her journal. “I’ll be there in a bit.” After he left, she pulled out her quill and ink, and started writing:

           “My first storm at sea. I’m still alive! But I heard something while I was sick. A song. It was enchanting. I can still hear it ringing in my ears. But I don’t recognize it from anywhere. Maybe they played it last week. Maybe I’ll ask Mitch if he knows what it is…he doesn’t realize it, but I am grateful that he’s here, looking after me.”

           The next night, the sailors broke out beer and instruments to celebrate getting through the storm. Surprising herself, Sirena decided to join, tying her hair back with a ribbon. The sailors applauded themselves for getting through such a minor storm, meanwhile, she still felt nauseous.

           She inched around the edge of the ship and found the waxing moon hovering above still ocean waters. Mitch appeared.

           “What’s that you’re hummin’?”

           “Hmm?” Sirena didn’t notice she was humming the melody. “Actually, I was wondering if you knew it? Did you all sing it last week?”

           He shook his head. “Don’t think so. Beautiful though.”

           “I kind of…dreamt about it when I was sick. So I assumed.”

            As they were leaning on the rim of the ship, the sailors got to playing, starting off with ‘Green Grow the Rushes O.’ Sirena smiled.

           “A smile!” Mitch pointed out. “Aw, you have to dance now. No two ways about it!”

           Sirena looked at the growing moon and then back at the well-lit deck. Mitch was so excited, she couldn’t say no. He offered her his hand and gently led her to the middle of the deck while the other sailors watched on.

           Carefree for the first time in a long time, she twirled into the night.

*                                *                                 *                                 *                                 

          At the beginning of the third week, Sirena’s dreams returned.

           “What a beautiful day,” her father said with a serene smile on his face. “Get UP, David. GET UP!” her mother yelled, stomping her foot on the sandy beach. A journalist from town, asking too many questions. Sirena screamed in her face, unapologetically.

           And then the song. From somewhere in the deep, calling to her and entangling her like a vine that wouldn’t stop growing until it covered her heart.

           She gasped, lunging awake. She startled a couple of other sailors, who grumbled and tossed around in their hammocks.

           “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m alright. Just a dream. Just a dream.” She repeated that phrase as she laid down, unsure of whether or not she wanted to go back to sleep. “Just a dream.”

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 

           “It’s never just a dream, they say,” Mitch shared over breakfast. He sounded belligerent when he talked with his mouth full. It was like he couldn’t keep thoughts from finding their way out.

           “They, who?”

           “The wise men who live in the hillsh in Shotclend.”

           “Oh.”

           “Just like coincidences, ya know? Not just a dream, never just a coincidence.”

           “What if it’s a memory?”

           “You want to talk about it?”

           Sirena shook her head.

           “Thought ash much.”

           “And the song?”

           Mitch swallowed his last portions and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Ever heard of Sirens?”

           “Just children’s stories. I was named after them.”

           “I’ll be. Named after sirens, but afraid of the sea.” He laughed and slapped his knee.

           “Hey, how do you know I’m afraid of the sea?”

           Mitch gave her a knowing look. “Come on, now. Spending all your time below. The way you looked at the plank before you came on board. I was afraid of the sea once, but no more. Just takes time, that’s all. Sometimes a little help, too.” He made it sound so easy. But it was more than that to her.

           That night, she wrote in her journal by candlelight. “Just takes time. Sometimes a little help, too, he said. How could it be that easy?” She knew she wasn’t just writing about the sea. She was writing about what the sea took from her. What it ripped away from her grasp. How she lost a piece of herself to the ocean, involuntarily, never to return. Ever since that day, it was like she only breathed half the time.

           She could never fully relax. She was mad at everyone, all the time. Even when it didn’t seem like it.

           But, she was the angriest at the ocean.

           And even though she wasn’t immersed in it, she found herself drowning.         

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 

           Another dream.

           Her mother yelled.

           She screamed, watching as her father’s lifeless body was carried away and people assured her that he would be fine while not looking in her eyes.

           Another song filled with sorrow and beauty.

           This time, she saw her.

           A woman with dark brown hair and glimmering teal scales climbing up her chest and neck.

           “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 

           There was tension on deck when Sirena surfaced for breakfast.

           She interrupted a conversation Mitch was having with another crew mate. “What’s going on?”

           Mitch’s furrowed brow worried her. “It’s gonna be rough. There.” He pointed ahead of the bow of the ship to a dark mass of clouds. “No way around it, so we’re prepping for the worst. Good news is, we’re only a day away.”

           Something about this storm felt different to Sirena. Without thinking, she blurted out, “Those scottish wise men ever tell you about sirens? You think they could be real?”

           “Not really. I don’t doubt it, though. The ocean’s full of mysteries; treasures, death, life, unexplored depths that none of us know anything about. That’s why it takes courage to be out here. For us, it’s a job. You’re even braver. You know that, right?”

           Am I?  

           Sirena looked back at the distant sky, wondering just how brave this whole journey was. Was seeking a new life courageous, or was she running away? Was she secretly hoping the ocean would take her, too?

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 

           “Remember! When it starts, we do everything we can to keep the ship on the move.” The captain had a plan to skirt around the edge of the storm, approaching the winds diagonally as much as he could. Luckily the ship’s storage was filled with heavy crates, so it wouldn’t be at risk of rolling.

           Sirena was directed below with the other passengers. While she descended, she nervously watched as some of the sailors tied themselves to the ship with ropes.

           Lightning flashed in the distance.

           “Why are they doing that with the ropes?” Sirena asked Mitch.

           “Just in case. If they fall off the ship without one, they’ll be lost to the seas.”

           “Will you use one?”

           “Not me, I’m fleet-footed. Like a cat!” He winked, clearly trying to put her at ease.

           Two hours in, Sirena heard it again. It started off faint. She wiped the sweat off her face and tried to focus on the other passengers. As the ship swayed, she clambered to find her bucket and vomited in it. She felt dismayed when the bucket quickly fell over.

           “Sirena!” Someone was calling her name from above.

           But then another voice, more melodic and feminine, called her from below. “Siiiiireeeeeennnnaaaa.”

           Her nightmares flashed before her eyes, one scene to the next, compounding on itself. She grabbed the beams of the ship to get back to the other passengers. Water cascaded down the stairs from the deck above.

           She could hear Mitch’s voice yelling with urgency. “SIRENA, GET UP HERE!”

           Sirena yanked at her brown skirt and climbed upstairs. Strong winds immediately tossed her hair around her face, adding to her feeling of helplessness. At least she could see Mitch waving at her through the strands.

           Sailors were either clinging to the rail or using buckets to try and bail out the ship.

           Sirena ran towards Mitch as the ship creaked, the rain poured, and the winds roared in a hoarse voice.

           “LOOK!” He pointed out into the ocean at a teal, circular light glimmering in the waves. A woman rose out of it.

           This is a dream.

           “Captain?” Mitch ran away from Sirena to wave his hands in front of the captain, who suddenly stopped sailing, his hands still on the wheel. His eyes wide, almost a smile on his face. It was as if he was frozen in place.

           Slowly but surely, the other sailors dropped their buckets. Some fell to their knees.

           “Coooooommmmeeee.”

           “What’s happening?” Sirena noticed that Mitch was now standing too close to the edge of the ship. Waves splashed on his face. He didn’t move.

           “No!” Sirena demanded, looking back at the woman hovering above the water. “Not him! YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM!”

           “COOOMEEEEEEE!”

           The next wave enveloped Mitch, taking him into the sea.

           Time slowed. Sirena grabbed one of the ropes, tied it to her waist, and jumped off the ship.

           As she plunged into the cold water, she saw it all happen once more. Her father’s smile. Her mother’s anger. His lifeless body. The journalist asking questions.

           Then she saw her--the woman of the sea. Shades of green and blue scales climbing up her chest and neck. Her web-like dress danced like the waves.

           “Take me, not them.”

           “Why, dear Sirena?” The woman answered inside of her mind. “You wish to die?”

           “I’ve been dead for years. I died the day my father drowned. Take me instead!”

           “Your innocence died. Your heart broke. But you--you are not dead yet. Your life has just begun.”

           “Just take me. It’s over.”

           The siren swam up to her, stopping within an inch of her face. “You fear the water but it’s a part of you. We are all made of it. You fear the ocean as you fear yourself. You blame yourself. You are not to blame for the natural tides of life. You are not to blame for what happened that day.”

           “But I was in the water. I went swimming first. I didn’t tell him how strong the tides were.”

           “You went swimming and emerged. You did not know how strong the tides were.”

           Sirena’s tears were embraced by the sea, blending with it entirely.

           “The currents that run through all of us are one and the same. Do not cling to shallow waters. Welcome depth. Welcome emotions. You have work to do.”

          Beams of blinding sunlight hit the water. Sirena blinked…and the woman was gone. In her place was Mitchell, unconscious. She grabbed him and fought her way to the surface as the waters started settling. She was far from the ship, but still tied to it.

           Sirena emerged from the ocean, barely staying afloat. Part of her felt like a newborn babe, gasping for air, filled with emotion.

           “HERE!” She wailed, waving. The sailors, broken from their trance, noticed her and hoisted her up onto the deck.

           She got assistance with Mitch and flung him onto the deck beside her. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, praying. “Please help him.” She looked at Mitch’s pale face and feared the worst. The captain pushed people aside, placed his hands on his chest, and started pumping.

           Mitch rolled onto his side and coughed up water. Startled, he wiped his face. Sirena embraced him before he could say anything.

           “You should’ve tied yourself to the ship,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Mitch laughed. The crowd of sailors around them joined in, laughing with relief.

           As if there was some unspoken agreement between her and the ocean, the waters eased.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 

           A month later, Sirena sat down for tea in her coastal cabin. She opened a letter from Mitchell.

           “Another week at sea. Then I’ll be able to come visit for a while. My sister’s down in Havana now. She was one of the only ones who believed what we saw that day. Speaking of which, have you finished it yet? I can’t wait to see!”

           A large painting on Sirena’s easel depicted the siren, her, and Mitchell below the water. The siren was handing her a beam of light from her heart space. Behind the easel were various paintings, all depicting different aspects of the ocean, the reef, the waves, shallow waters and the mysterious deep.

           She knew she would never return to the way things were. She would never stop missing her father. But somehow, one way or another, she had started learning to befriend her emotions and stopped being so scared of living. She used to loathe the ocean. But no more. In the glint of self-forgiveness, there was a new life.

           A new light, filling up the once gaping hole of grief within.