The Girl in the Glass

They held the mermaid auditions in the aquarium bathroom, made the girls stick their faces underwater in the sinks and hold their breath. Shona lasted the longest. I heard her say when she surfaced that the room was sparkled with black dots. One of the other girls had gotten sick on the floor. I mopped it up as Shona shook the water from her hair.

Her routine was two minutes long. She wriggled and twisted, flicked her tail fin and somersaulted through the shoals of fish as the tourists nudged one another. The guides hustled them away afterwards so they wouldn’t see the mermaid lunge for the top of the tank and gasp for air. The girls couldn’t get out of the tank alone; their legs were fettered by the fins, and the porters had to haul them out. I used to push forward to get to Shona’s side – I’d grab her arm and heave and feel the thump of her heart jolting through my skin.

I’d stand outside the girls’ locker-room and listen to her getting changed. The wet slurp of the tail peeling away from her legs, her curses as she pounded her feet against the floor to restore the blood flow. I’d sneak in later and jimmy open her locker, gather up the sequined fabric and push it into my face. The smell of her sweat, the tiny hairs gathered against the damp satin. I’d think of her as the bus jolted me home, and I’d feel comfortable.

Just before Christmas she looked at me as I pulled her out of the tank, and she smiled. I nearly lost my grip. I swayed and the light in the room dipped. I clung onto her and my fingers dug into her arm. She came up to me after she’d changed and pulled up her sleeve. Five purple blotches where we’d touched. I reached out to feel and she pulled her arm away, shy.

The next day, the day of the Christmas party, I was waiting. I sat on the bench beside the lockers and hugged myself, rocked back and forth. I heard the shuffling hop as she made her way down the corridor, hobbled by the costume, and my heart drubbed. Fucking fins, I heard her mumble. Her tail slapped against the tiles as she turned and crashed against me.

She gasped as I hugged her tight. Her skin was beaded with droplets of cold water and her bikini top pressed against my chest. She was speaking but it was muffled. I stroked her head with my free hand. They said this worked on dolphins.

We dropped to the floor and I reached down and ran my hands along her scaly tail. It writhed and beat against the wall, and I shuddered. She pulled her head away and screamed, and I told her to shush, to hold her breath. Two minutes, I whispered. I ripped a gash in the satin and stuck my hand inside her thrashing tail.

They asked me to leave after that. I got a new job, in the park, skimming rubbish off the surface of the lake, stopping kids throwing rocks at the ducks. I stare into the water and think of Shona’s slippery limbs. I watch for her amongst the paddle-boat tourists and the sight-seers. I know she’ll turn up. I wait by the water and hold my breath. I count to sixty, and again, and I watch the black sparkles dance.