Authors: Kiera Cass
She apologized for having to deflect my first question. There are some things that She had to keep to Herself.
I understand. Have You always had sirens from the beginning?
No, but She could not elaborate on that either.
How many of us have there been?
There had been two hundred and sixty-eight sirens. That included the three of us serving now, and ones like Ifama who had not chosen to stay their whole sentence. I don’t know if She meant to or not, but She steered our conversation exactly where I wanted it to go.
Are there many who don’t stay the whole time?
Not many. Of course, very few are actually happy with this life, but most girls will push through it to get a second chance.
Why so long? A hundred years is so long…
It was. And that was a number chosen by convenience. The longer girls serve, the fewer there are. The fewer there are, the less chance of the reality of Her diet escaping. If it did, it would cause a riot. She didn’t want that panic or, more importantly, for people to avoid Her altogether. That would be a disaster. And it takes a while to settle into this life. If She let sirens go too soon, She would always have untrained girls serving Her, which was a danger to people.
I hadn’t expected Her reasons to be so selfless. She just wanted everything to work.
About Your diet… how do You feel about that?
That was hard for Her to explain. She didn’t like to hurt the humans She was created to serve. Sometimes She felt taken advantage of, but then again, how do you thank the Ocean? Usually, She felt conflicted that She had to take from people to save them. Like breaking a rock to keep it in one piece, it didn’t seem right somehow. But Her only other option was self-destruction— stagnant waters that made neither wind nor rain nor current, the life within Her failing, the lives of everyone else failing in consequence. Was it so awful to take the lives of a hundred or so each year if it meant that billions could live?
How do You feel about me? About us, I mean?
She didn’t understand that question.
I mean, how do You feel about needing us, I guess…
She was suddenly tender. How could I have been with Her all this while and missed this?
She said that if She could do it on Her own, if She could spare us, She absolutely would. No one should have to see the things we do, and that bothered Her. At the same time, She enjoyed being able to spare someone every once in a while. It was like finding a treasure someone else had missed. And, when we interacted, She enjoyed our company.
It took me a moment to think of where to go now. I wanted to talk about Ifama and the others, but I could talk to Her about so much now. And She wanted me to talk. I could feel it now— She missed me when I was away. She missed all of us. We were Her companions, but we blamed Her for making us so. I had all but hated Her. She would have known that. She would have felt that from the start. The start…
Maybe this is rude somehow, but why my ship?
That was an easy answer: it had the least number of people on board.
You can tell that?
She could. She felt the weight of the lives in Her.
That was unexpected.
I know there’s really no point in asking… but why me?
That was funny. To me, at least. She thought my final thoughts were sweet and unselfish. I had thought of myself, of course, but also of my family. She said She could feel all that love going through me for them, and it seemed like a waste to lose such a heart. And She thought I was beautiful.
Thank You. What about the others?
Of course, Miaka for her sweetness, so small and adorable. I missed her suddenly. She also made another confession that I thought was shocking: She kept Miaka for me. She knew I didn’t like to be alone. She would have seen that question in my head before; She was just waiting for me to ask it.
Aisling, to no surprise, simply had the will to live. She wasn’t giving up. Aisling was always up for a fight, wasn’t she? Ifama had a certain respectable dignity which was admirable, and it was foolish to think she might give that trait up when she was taken. Ifama was very proud and felt no hint of regret at her death.
Can I ask how Ifama came to You in the first place?
She said that if Ifama chose not to share that, then neither could She.
But she was completely at peace? In the end?
Yes. The Ocean suffered more at that moment than Ifama did; She didn’t want to take her.
What about Marilyn? She always seemed so calm after we… You know…
Marilyn had come to terms with her own life and death. She understood that every life came to a close, hers included. She did not add to the number of lives that would end, because they all would. Every soul passed through that gate. It was a truth I had not thought of until now: Everyone dies. I wish I had thought to ask these questions to Marilyn before she left.
I realized that it wasn’t just the death of others that bothered me, but my own. I needed to make the most of my time. I had seventy more years for sure, though admittedly what I could do with them was limited. Still, being angry and sulking about every little “what if” would only make my days less valuable. In seventy years, my body would become breakable, and I wasn’t guaranteed another day. I needed to live. I needed to make peace. This was only a season. For now, that meant being a weapon. But a weapon that didn’t
want
to kill or added to the loss of life— not in the end. It was a hard reality for me, but this was my life.
I just cried for a moment. And She didn’t rush me. She let me be sad. I couldn’t stand upright anymore. The weight of all my worries fell down on me one last time before they washed away. I sat in the surf and rocked myself.
Do You think I’m a monster?
She soothed me. She called me “sweetheart.” No, She was the true monster, She said. That She subjected anyone to this life was cruel. It was simply what She must do, and so She would. She was sorry I had to endure it with Her but asked for my patience. There was more to this life if I only let myself see it. She wanted me to enjoy the body I had, the knowledge I had, the time I had. Though She was sad I had to harm others, there was a small glimmer of joy in the fact that I, along with my sisters, would have another chance at life. She saw our value more clearly than we could, and we would be amazing people one day.
She said that I was beautiful. She saw that I didn’t love people halfway. She felt the encompassing love I had for my family when I lost them, and even now that desire to love burned in me. In truth, She confessed, Marilyn was sad to lose that love when she left me that night; she wasn’t sure anyone would care for her so easily.
This heart of mine wasn’t going anywhere. I would still get to use it all one day in the way She knew I wanted to. For now, I should just continue to generously give my love to Miaka and any other sisters who came along. If Aisling would ever take it, I should give it to her. And then, almost timidly, the Ocean said that if I was ever at a loss for someone who needed it, She would always take it.
If Marilyn had told me a day like this would come, I wouldn’t have believed it. But here I was, aching to be in the Ocean, to not be separated from Her ever. Because She loved me like a cherished daughter, like the daughter I once was. And She helped me understand Ifama’s peace and Marilyn’s, too. And I didn’t have it all right now, but I would. One day, I’d be at complete peace with this choice. I wasn’t a horrible person. I’d use this body and mind that I had for only a season to the best advantages I could. This body and mind and life that She generously and specifically chose me for…
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…
I sat then and wept openly in Her arms. She let Her waves rush over me, and for the first time they didn’t feel like chains. It truly felt like an embrace.
CHAPTER
4
After that day, the Sea and I were kindred. I felt that I must be for her what Marilyn and who knows how many others before me had been: a friend. As time passed, I felt how deeply She loved me. I was special to Her, more so than the others. Not that we weren’t all valuable, but I was desperate for Her affection. I should have told Miaka to be closer to Her, too. I should have explained the Ocean’s need, but I liked that our relationship was the only one of its kind. At least, for now.
I had gotten to know Her, and She doled out the best of Herself to me. I had, in abundance, what I had missed for years: motherly love. And through Miaka I had sisterly love, too.
I never spoke of how deeply I longed for a different, dangerous, unthinkable love. I had to be satisfied. For now. It was an anxious wait, but it was a little easier to control now.
I stayed by myself. With speaking to the Ocean so often, I never felt alone. Though I forgot so much of my life before being a siren, She remembered everything. She remembered every siren by name and knew the years she stayed and little details about their stories. She carefully chose which ones She told me about. It was strange because all of the stories were exactly the same and yet completely different.
I understood more about why the Ocean chose certain people. It wasn’t one particular quality that made us eligible; it was more like having something that set you apart. I had always been passionate about the people around me, but I’m not sure I noticed it until it was pointed out. That was my gift. We each had something to give, and our individual qualities blessed our sisters. It was true; I gained so much from this tiny sorority. Marilyn helped me to be patient and wise. Miaka was creative and thoughtful. Even Ifama had brought something new to me though our lives touched so briefly. Still, I wondered at the day when I might appreciate anything about Aisling.
The Ocean and I had a strange sort of honeymoon. I left Pawleys Island shortly after that first conversation and flitted around America before leaving for another long stretch. I wasn’t sure when or if I’d ever go back. The Ocean took me to places in Her that only She knew about. The Ocean gave me an island. It was a tiny, tropical place, the likes of which I’d only ever seen on post cards. I was absolutely enchanted. When my dress fell to pieces, I lived there naked— a feat I was sure I could never have done without complete privacy. I rested under the lush shade of giant palm trees and tasted the mysterious little fruits that grew around me. I assumed the awful tasting ones must have been poisonous.
I explored the forest, unafraid of bites or scratches. I found the highest point after a two- day hike and climbed to the top to see what I could. I was in the middle of the vastness of the Sea. Nothing could have ever touched me here. Even though I knew boats crossed through Her all the time, not a single one could be seen from here. It was a joy that no detail of my duties followed me to this place.
My island was a sanctuary.
But more beautiful than the island itself were the waters surrounding it. The sand was pale and powder fine. Sometimes I would go into the water and half bury myself in it, the Ocean using Her currents to help in the job. The sun shone so brightly that the water was warm, but the sand stayed cool— it was an experience for the senses. I’d seen so many shades of water by now, I was sure there was no way She could possibly be hiding anymore. But here, in this hidden place, the Ocean was a shade of blue I’d never encountered. It was the color of ice and honey and sky and rain mixed together into a sheet of flawless glass with broken frothy edges that tickled my feet at the shoreline.
This was what She gave me. It was a place where I could forget what I had to do and what She was capable of. Here there was only Her generosity and beauty. Here I could sing at the top of my lungs and no one suffered. Sometimes I’d scream for the pure joy of it. Though it ought to have been the sound of terror, I laughed afterwards every time.
When I wasn’t playing in the warm waters, I let myself relax and daydream. I was lost in a hundred different worlds. I imagined coming here again with the love of my life. We could forget the world and be lost together. I imagined getting married and coming here on vacation with beautiful dark-haired children. Wouldn’t a child running down this unspoiled coast be absolutely beautiful? It was the perfect place for my mind to release all the worries of this secret world. It was unfortunate I couldn’t stay forever.
I spent more than a year alone with the Ocean. This getaway would always be here for me, but I couldn’t forget the reality of my obligations.
In the summer of 1956, I returned to Miaka. It turned out that the time alone had done wonders for her, too.
I never would have found her on my own. My first thought was to go back to Italy; we had lived there briefly before Ifama left us. But the Ocean told me that Miaka had moved on and checked in every once in a while to let the Ocean know where she was.
Miaka was living in India, pretending to be a deaf mute and making art on the streets. Her talent had managed to grow in my absence. She made her art under the Bombay sun, just as happy as she could be. People would stop to watch her work and sometimes bought her pieces. We didn’t exactly have bank accounts, so she tucked her money away in different parts of the world— under rocks, buried in people’s back yards. We didn’t really long for money; as I said, the Ocean gave us more than our share. But it was nice to not have to ask all the time— to buy something we didn’t need, play with it until we were bored, and “forget” it in front of a deserving home.