The Siren (10 page)

She was just silly. When we were hunting for clothes, Elizabeth would intentionally make the most bizarre pairings— rain slickers with shorts, a too-small bra, and a beret— and then lounge around the house like that for days. In places big enough for it, she would organize epic games of hide and seek or tag. They may have only been children’s games, but they were endlessly entertaining for us.

I knew that Miaka, in all her grace, had been chosen as a companion for me. Sometimes, I wondered if Elizabeth was a gift for me, too— if the Ocean knew I needed a constant comedian in my life. When that thought struck me, I decided to let myself be up for most anything Elizabeth suggested. Besides, she was my sister, and she was like no one else, and I loved her.

Over the next twenty-four years, we had enough adventures to fill the lives of fifty people. With the exception of our days of singing, we became the happiest drifters in the world.

We ran with the bulls in Spain not once, not twice, but three times. It was easy enough given our talents. It also helped that it was impossible to break a bone. Afterwards men would buy us drinks to toast our bravery. I tried to get away from these attentions, but Elizabeth was a magnet for “dangerous” men. It really wasn’t an issue; we could hurt them beyond anything they could dream of doing to us. So on these three occasions, and several others, we ended up in bars. The men would try to talk to us, but we would just shake our heads and pretend we couldn’t understand a thing they said.

The most recent time, one guy tried to drug us. That didn’t work, of course, but it pissed Elizabeth off enough to “get drunk” and “accidentally” drive his car into a pole, which she easily walked away from. But it landed him in the hospital with two broken ribs. She did all this in such a way that there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. So the Ocean wasn’t even bothered when She heard that story. In fact, She was amused. She was glad we could defend ourselves. Elizabeth was clever. I never would have tried that out on my own.

That was the first time I was aware that maybe there were ways around the rules.

We rode elephants across the desert in Africa. The heat would have been unbearable in our weaker skin, but this new one made it easy. I later thanked the Ocean for this temporary body because I had seen the most beautiful sunrise and knew I would have missed it if She hadn’t chosen me. She was flattered by my gratitude.

The land itself was barren and parched, but still so beautiful. I was amazed at how little water this place needed to survive; it was heightened by the fact that I was usually at home in an abundance of water. Even here, She stretched out and provided. One day, I realized that this dry land was still dependent upon Her, and that by serving Her faithfully, this beauty existed. Usually the world we saw seemed so over indulgent, but this place found joy in its minimalism. My job was a somber one, but if this could be here because of it, I could find satisfaction in that.

We walked the Great Wall of China. This was a particularly exciting thing for us because it was so old. It seemed like it should have crumbled to bits long ago, but it was well-crafted and well-kept and it lived on and on— just like us. We admired it. It rolled with the land and was strangely beautiful, like poetry made out of stone. I thought of the resources and the hands that it took to create this beauty. We took our steps slowly, savoring the labor that held it up.

We went to dozens of weddings. When we saw a hint that one was happening, we’d hide out and start counting guests. If the number went over a hundred and fifty people, we’d scrounge up a dress and go. With that many people it was easy to get lost, and if we timed it right, we’d be able to sit away from most of the guests. We’d stick to ourselves and stand in the back at the receptions. Without meaning to, we would often end up the attracting the photographer. We ended up in tons of pictures. We laughed thinking about what couples would think when they returned from their honeymoon to see pictures of strange girls dancing at their reception, toasting to their happiness, and eating large amounts of their cake.

I wasn’t sure if it would work, but I tried to mentally log things that I enjoyed, like a particular dress or cake. I didn’t know if I would remember any of that for my own wedding one day, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Once, we stole a car! That was the joyride of a lifetime! Elizabeth knew how to drive and taught Miaka and me so we all had a turn behind the wheel. Neither of us dared to drive as fast as Elizabeth did; we didn’t want to wreck it. But Elizabeth was fearless. We’d find an open road, and she practically flew from the concrete. It was so much fun we couldn’t help laughing out loud in the isolation of the cabin. We returned the car to the exact same parking spot the very next day having washed it and filled the tank with gas. It was a beauty, and it remained completely unharmed. If we were wanted women for that crime we never knew. Nobody disappears like we do.

All of these were Elizabeth’s ideas. She was the eternal prankster. She reinvented the life we were living, making us step outside of our comfort zones every other day. Her favorite— something we ended up doing quite often— was streaking. I was so bashful about my body that I only watched the first few times, and I blushed just
watching
them run. I remembered my days on the island; that was a different kind of naked. It was for my personal freedom; I was no exhibitionist!

Finally, years down the road, Elizabeth and Miaka talked me into it. Still, I refused to go unless it was nighttime and we were alone. The best places for this were on the beach, which made it less frightening. Beaches were the gateway to home for me. And once I did it, I was glad I had. It was the only way of showing off the perfect bodies we were all but forbidden to share. It was hard to do it without giggling out loud, but that made it better. Each time one of our feet hit the water, the Ocean would see us and laugh in our place.

What had evaded me for decades came crashing down in abundance— joy! True happiness. I wasn’t a coward. I had no regrets. I may not have been alive, but I was living. That was all the difference. We lived our lives like children, seeking out the best and simplest of joys.

The best parts of myself came to the surface. I didn’t feel so bound up all the time. I was still sad when I had to sing, but the ache passed, and I was back to life with my sisters within days. And, no matter how crazy it seemed, I indulged in every adventure.

Elizabeth got us into a mansion once... while the owner was home. I don’t know how she did it. I felt like a thief sitting in a house while someone was obviously inside, but I supposed that was unreasonable as we lived in other peoples’ houses all the time. I tried not to let it bother me. She didn’t tell me where she got the stash from, but Elizabeth’s pockets were full of chocolates. So in the giant house, on the king-sized bed, we ate our chocolate and spoke quietly.

“Elizabeth, are you happy?” I whispered to her. Her head was by mine, and Miaka was turned around so her feet were facing upward. It was as if this whole place belonged to us.

“What kind of question is that? Isn’t it obvious I am?”

“What I mean is, how are you so happy? You had a hard time with your family, you lost a lot of things, and every year you have to lure people to their deaths, but you seem to not be bothered by it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I don’t like it. But, you know, you girls weren’t living like I was. I watched a lot of TV. There are bad things happening in the world every day. Worse than what we do. And at least our singing has a purpose. Do you know how cool it is that we regularly help save the world? I tried to be an activist before, and this is the closest I’ve come.”

Miaka sat up to listen closer. Elizabeth continued.

“I don’t like to kill people. But we don’t, She does. You say it all the time. And while it’s seriously heavy, I just can’t let it bring me down. I take suffering in the world seriously. I do. But if I let myself wallow in every bad thing that ever happens… that’s not much of a life, Kahlen. So I don’t worry about being sad. Instead, I spend my time making you two idiots laugh. Miaka makes me think about things and study stuff. And you, you make me feel like I could do the stupidest thing in the world, and you’d still like me how I am.

“Instead of worrying about taking, we should worry about giving. We can’t stop the take. But we can do a hell of a lot about the give.”

It was muddled up and perfectly clear. Elizabeth was complex and simple. Giving was incredibly rewarding. I lay awake that night, listening for maids or other houseguests getting too close to our room. None ever came, so while Miaka and Elizabeth slept away on the plush bed, I stayed up and planned. What could I possibly give?

That was 1990. A conversation that had lasted less than five minutes had given me incredible inspiration.

I wanted to work with children.

I told this to the Ocean who liked the idea, but thought it was too risky. I told her that I wanted to work with hearing-impaired children. I could be close to them without being too much of a hazard. I knew that there would have to be some people around who could hear, but I was used to silence now. It would be safe. I could speak in sign language and teach. Really, I was prepared to do whatever they wanted me to. I had had my years of sulking, my years of peace, and now my years of playing. I wanted to contribute now. It was still hard for me to face everything I stole from humanity, and it was time for me to give back somehow, before I forgot I had a debt to pay. Besides, I lived to love.

She couldn’t argue that. She had her doubts, but, because She favored me above the others, She consented. The Ocean dug within herself and found an identity for me to borrow. My borrowed name would be Katie Landon. I went to libraries and watched instructional videos to learn how to sign. It wasn’t a spoken language so it didn’t just come to me. I practiced with Miaka and Elizabeth who learned some as well— it turned out to be much easier than writing notes in public places. How had we not thought of this earlier?

And once I was ready, I went to volunteer at a school for the deaf in the Southwest. And I felt at peace among these beautiful children who were fully protected against the most dangerous part of me. I thought there was no way I could ever possibly feel more joy.

 
CHAPTER
5

My life was full of the next-best versions of things. I couldn’t have my true mother, but at least I had the Ocean. My brothers were gone, but I had sisters instead. I didn’t own my clothes, but I could borrow someone else’s. I had no real home, but I lived in a range of houses all over the world. I couldn’t go to college, but I could teach. I couldn’t have babies, but I could be a surrogate to the children at the schools. I couldn’t fall in love…

Try as I may, there was never a situation that made up for that. I kept thinking time would erase that desire, or at least make it easier to bear. Nothing made it better. The only option was distraction.

Learning sign language had taken only a few weeks. I devoted every waking moment to studying my new skill. Arriving at my first school, I signed up as a volunteer. That was easy. There was less paper if you volunteered. And paper made things difficult since I was every bit the nineteen-year-old now as I was in California. And Washington. And Texas.

I was adored everywhere I went. I showed up eager and friendly and obviously fond of children. And these children were miraculously fond of me! In the reception area at the school in Texas, a little girl came up and hugged my leg as I was standing at the front desk. Her name was Madeline, and we became fast friends after she looked up at me and smiled. These children were so easy to love. It seemed that so many were passed over, but how could anyone not see how beautiful each one of them was?

It seems to me that we value individuality, but only to a point. When what sets one person apart from another is beyond our understanding or becomes too much to handle, we dismiss the quirk and the soul that accompanies it to give ourselves the greatest comfort. What does that accomplish?

Take myself, for example. It was no great achievement that I was friends with Miaka or Elizabeth. There was no challenge in that. The true standing of my character ought to be measured in my ability to love Aisling. Of course, that would be much easier if she was willing to let at least one of us in.

I stayed for a few years volunteering at each school, becoming practically indispensible. I had patience beyond the norm and was never exhausted. I thanked the Ocean for both of those gifts later. The staffs depended on me, and the children took me in easily. But eventually I’d invent a reason to move. I’d say that my father was moving abroad or there was a serious illness in the family— any reason that would make it clear I was bound by something big, that I was needed.

They always threw going away parties for me, and I always got a cake. They were pretty good. Not as good as the ones in Paris, but still cake.

It was hard to leave. I had never been more fulfilled. Yes, I regularly aided in keeping the world from running dry, but I had never felt more useful than I had these last few years.

I was endlessly grateful to my sisters. Miaka and Elizabeth had encouraged me with uncontrollable enthusiasm. Before I left for my first school, I had gotten a serious moment of cold feet. I was terrified that I would still somehow hurt these people. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be far away from my sisters. But they pushed me out, insisting that I try. This turned into one of the most rewarding experiences in my life.