Mermaid
A pile of laundry tossed against the cold stone staircase, at
least it looked like that until the sun began to shine on it. Like a lizard sunning itself, Terry slowly began to move. He had survived another night. Struggling to his feet, he wipes away the brown and kaleidoscope in his eyes. A chill shook him down to his
core making his hands feel like they would break off. The muscles along his
abdomen clinched uncontrollably as what little there wanted to be set
free.
“Jesus. Where am
I?”
Wiping the spit from his face, he reached down and felt for his
pants. Still there. Better than the last time. It wasn’t that good and he nodded off. It scared the crap out of him when the cop’s baton
touched him down there. The girl wasn’t
anywhere in sight, either. Just another
day. He ended up leaving he jail in the jumpers he
had been booked in with. Bastards
couldn’t even find a donated shirt. A
bit of sadness set in. Mama would have
been proud.
No, she wouldn’t. She wrote him off a long time ago. She really couldn’t take the dope.Didn’t like the money disappearing and having
to bail him out. Finally, she told him to get lost and he did. Didn’t matter. She’s dead. Someone told him
that. Never did confirm it, though. And he really didn’t want to, either. The last he thing he remembered was the warehouse, dancing
with the tranny in the pink dress. Lido
Shuffle floated through the air, Boz Scaggs’ voice thumping in his head in
between cramps. He/she wasn’t all that
bad looking in the low light. Blonde
with thin legs and whiskey voice. Someone
said she was dealing White and he wanted to trade. He couldn’t remember if they did. All he could remember were the lights. There was a girl doing lines off a baby
changing station. Why the fuck was there
one of those in a bar? Like
anyone would bring an infant to a rave? The
vision of a black guy was jawing about being bumped, then, something hitting
him. Everything kind of spun and this is
where he landed. Always an adventure
when you fly.
“Got to get a hit.
Damn.”
Reaching into his pocket of his spotted shirt, he found a
rock. Anybody got a pipe? Fuck it.
He wanted smack anyway, not crack.
A little ditty started playing in his head.
Smack and Crack
Down on his Luck
Here he comes
In through the muck.
Stumbling
headlong into a bush next to the wall, the nausea had its way. Translucent fluid tinged with red issued
forth. The smell reminded him of the
dead hooker in the alley. Already swelling,
the edges of her nipples were peeking out over the halter. She looked like some discarded Barbie
doll. He moved pretty damn quickly. If the cops found him anywhere around there,
he was going to get blamed for it. Another
score as the black sheep of the family.
Smack and Crack
Down on his Luck
Here he comes
In through the muck.
The stones were cold
against his face. The wall with the staircase that went to the heavens looked a hundred
feet tall. The old buildings across the
street waved and dipped in front of his eyes.
Factors Walk? Yeah. So, where are all the tourists? He couldn’t see the sun. Stumbling on a cobblestone, he landed face
first. Blood began to pour out of his
nose and he put his sleeve up to stop it.
It hurt to lift his arm. Lord, another cyst. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up
like the hooker.
Smack and Crack
Down on his Luck…
Cold. It was going to get ugly soon. How long had he rolled, anyway? Last Tuesday, maybe? Fuck, he didn’t know. Maybe he should taper? Nah. Need
a hit. He reached to the back
pocket. No wallet. It wasn’t the first time. It was almost like his dead mother was
reaching down to cut him off. Maybe he could call his…? No.
They said they would shoot him if they saw him. Maybe…?
Nah, she’s dead. How about…
Another stone reached up and grabbed his foot,
pitching him into a Mercedes that was parked in one of the old wagon bays. The car floated to the beat of the loud alarm. Fuck. He stumbled back around the corner of the
building to see if the cops came. Damn,
why does it always have to be so hard?
The wall rotates
until it becomes the waterfront. It came closer to him. What am I?
A puppet pulled by strings? A
shape slowing comes into focus. The
Waving Lady. Good. The
dealer up the ramp always has good stuff.
How to pay? Guess it’s time to
put on the old charm…
The bronze
woman was dancing on the concrete stand.
A sound like a dolphin whistle was coming from the haze around the
statue. He looked down and blinked. A
girl? The statue moved a bit
closer. Yes, definitely a girl and it
looked like she was topless. Awesome, a
free show. But something was different about her. Most people
ran away or got a cop when he approached. But this one
didn’t seem to be moving at all.
“Got any
change?”
As soon as
the words escaped his mouth, he saw the fin. Huh? A
mermaid? Have I really gotten that
far? Didn’t matter, he needed the hit or
he was going to die anyway. So why not
dream up a fucking mermaid? Maybe she
can lead me some undersea treasure.
“Uh... are you
real?”
She looked
up at him and stared. In a flutelike
voice, she answered.
“Yes. I have come to visit my mother’s
memorial. Funny, when I come, no one
ever notices me.”
The musical
sound seemed to warm him and make him forget his mission. She made a slight clicking sound as she
finished.
“Yeah, most
of the tourists don’t pay much attention to anything than getting the next
trinket. I used to buy T-Shirts
wholesale and come out here to make a quick buck. And the locals tend to stay far away from
here unless they have family visiting.
But, you didn’t say whether you had change.”
That got a
laugh.
“No money in
the water. It would just fall to the
bottom. My father used to sneer at the
floaters when they would drop during storms.
The nasty men screaming for their mothers. He would say ‘serves them
right trying to exploit the sea.’ And there would be all the pretty metal.”
He felt
warmer. The haze seemed to be lifting,
but the Mermaid was still there.
Wait. She said she was there to
visit her mother’s memorial? That didn’t
make any sense. All he ever heard about
the Waving Lady is she liked the sailors coming in to port. He remembered there was some old legend
about her. But he couldn’t remember
exactly what it was.
“You said ‘your
mother’s memorial.’ But you are…”
“A
Mermaid. Yes. Mother
lived over on the island there down to your right. She would set up her supply station and wave
at the boats as they came up and down the river. Her brother was with her out on the island,
but one day he died. The supply station
became her sole support and responsibility.”
He
remembered his mother talking about the Waving Lady he was little. Mama used to say she touched in the head and
the old wives’ tale about it being good luck to be waved in and out of port by
her. She always spat the words out. Like she was some hooker or something. He never thought it was fair. But what did he know? She’d been long gone before he came
around.
“You mother
was the Waving Lady?”
“Yes. She used to tell me she would wave to the
boats to make them aware the supply station was open. She had heard the whispers of the sailors and
whether it was good luck to be waved in.
She thought it was laughable. “
“She was
very sad and alone after Brother died. My
mother would swim out here in the river most every summer. It was a much simpler time back then. Many times she would go naked down to the
water, it was how she liked to bathe. No one would ever see her because it was early
in the morning before the tug captains started work. One day, a storm came up while Mother was
outside and she was caught by the wind.
She went headlong into the water.
Struggling to get back to the surface, her dress kept dragging her down. She told me she felt a slick thing come up
from under her and she took it. It
brought her back to the surface near her dock and she noticed it was a
dolphin.”
“She was as
confused as you are now. The dolphin
clicked and whistled and Mother understood. Father had seen her and wished her to join him. Not having anything to lose, she stripped off
her wet things and went back into the water.
She swam beside for a bit, but she couldn’t keep up. The Dolphin then came under her and lifted
her again to the surface. Joined, the
journey lasted well into the night. The
sounds of flutes and clicking followed them though the harbor. Waking on the beach as the sun rose, the sky
was a hundred colors. And that is how I became.”
He was
silent. What do you say to someone who
is half chick and half fish? A chill
came up through his toes and he remembered what he came for. He needed smack and soon. He coughed.
“How did you
end up alone?”
A long
silence followed. Like a radio signal was fading into the night. A tear hit the sidewalk as she began to speak
again.
“Father
never liked me. He was ashamed that he
made a half breed and could never understand how the humans worked. All he knew was to swim and fight.” She began to sob. “Father would bump me hard enough to kill me,
but I would always manage to get to the surface. Finally, I quit swimming in the pod. I see him now and then, but he always turns
away. “
“I sort of
understand. I’ve haven’t seen my family
so long, I forgotten what they look like.”
“Really? Why?”
She asked
“I like to …
well... I’m not a very good person.” It was Terry’s turn for sad silence.
She didn’t
need to answer. She reached out and
touched his rough skin. He stood and
took her hand. It was their time. As they disappeared into the water, all the
hurt that was disappeared, along with them.
Terry’s body
was found a few hours later down by the dealer’s ramp.
No one
claimed him.
He truly was
alone.
Sad, interesting, story you have posted here. The last couple of lines summed it up nicely.
ReplyDelete"No one claimed him.
He truly was alone."
Well my friend you have certainly interwoven two tales into one. Well done. On another note apparently people do use the change stations in washrooms to snort and shoot up. There was an issue about it recently. this story like many of your others could go on and on
ReplyDeleteI've been struggling with this one for almost six months, trying to get flow right. I finally just gave up and posted.
DeleteVery nicely done my friend. At least Terry had a few nice moments in his mind before he died.
ReplyDeleteThat is pretty sad... can not imagine not noticing how creepy your life has become.
ReplyDeleteThe mermaid was a quirky twist. Excellent write! David II
Cool story. I loved the ending.
ReplyDelete