by Marie Davis & Margaret Hultz.
Mona was an upstream mermaid, the kind of fish and woman who when swimming along, if she found life pleasantly passing, would swish tail to fin and begin swimming in the opposite direction. Obvious to all, Mona, with her fragrant curves snuggled in sea kelp, was only at home in the confluence between stiff currents and stress. Hers was not the predictable portrait of an idyllic mermaid lounging on a rock combing long, blond locks of hair awaiting unsuspecting fishermen to lure into tangled, watery deaths. No, Mona was all about finding misery for herself—fishermen be damned. “The problem with pleasantness —it lacks adventure.” Mona explained.
It was those very words that made Captain Lizzy feel a real connection with this stranger. Lounging under a large oak tree on this summer sun-soaked day, both oddities; a landlocked pirate and Mona, a mermaid without a drop of water. Two women so different yet so much the same, they were kinfolk in spirit. Captain Lizzy asked, “So, yer telling me ye ended up here in the middle of this field all on yer own?”
“Yes.” Mona smiled.
“Ain’t yer kind supposed to be in the ocean somewhars?”
“Yes.” Mona smiled.
“Well how’d you get sa fer away, out here on dry land and all?”
Devilishly Mona grinned, “On my own.”
“Yer telling me that you flipped and flopped all the way from the sea? Water ain’t fer…”
The mermaid growled, “You are a fine one to make fun of someone who’s short a leg or two.” Mona tapped on Lizzy’s peg leg, “How somebody gets along in this world is their own business and nobody else’s.”
“Suppose so.” Lizzy said reflectively.
For ten full minutes silent breezes blew between them. Birds chirruped. Ants scampered. A bee settled in on Mona’s forehead. In their silence not a word was left out. Both women stared off into the distance knowing if they braved a look into each other’s eyes they would see themselves reflected back—a reflection of too much honesty, too rare, too raw—two women way too out of place.
Plucky Mona finally broke the silence, after giving the bee ample time to sting her. “Ouch! Bees sting!”
“If you give them ‘ol buzzys a chance…”
Rubbing her forehead, the mermaid quickly changed the subject, “Pirate-woman I suppose that’s your ship docked in the middle of this field?”
“Aye, fish-woman. I call her, Venus. She’s me pride and joy.”
Mona pointedly looked around then screwed her face up, “Out here in the middle of the land there’s not much water for…”
Lizzy quipped, “How somebody gets along in this world is their own business and nobody else’s.”
“Aye.” Mona smiled.
That was it. Two women, pirate and mermaid, began making their way from under the giant oak tree into the hot beating sun. Jointly they hobbled and flopped through tall grasses towards the awaiting Venus. It took them nearly an hour to cross the wide field given that Mona insisted on stopping and smelling each yellow dandelion. The flower’s pungent, peppery tang made Mona’s nose crinkle.
On the fourteenth flower Lizzy said, “They stink woman. Every one of ‘em, I tells ye.”
Mona nodded and reached for the fifteenth, “So . . . just how long have you lived out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Nowhere?! This place ain’t nowhars. Hell’s bells, woman! This place is home to a ruckus of families. I’ve seen deer, fox, raccoon, opossum and mice. Plus all the trees, birds, rocks and dirt might be plenty offended if they heard you call their home nowhars. That tree whar I found ye jes’ now? That’s my dreamin’ tree. I sit thar most afternoons looking out on this purty land. I share ideas with that tree that I don’t got no nerve to share with another human being. Nay, my Venus and I don’t sit in nowhars. We sits smack dab in the middle of somewhars! Maybe my ship ain’t on the ocean, but I don’t see ye thar neither.”
Batting her eyes, the mermaid said flirtatiously, “You’re the captain.”
Lizzy the pirate did what she did best and kissed Mona on the cheek—so Mona the mermaid did what she did best and kissed her right back.
Mona took to living on the Venus like a fish to a pirate ship. The ninety-foot, single-mast sloop’s teakwood deck regularly left splinters in her tail. It became a necessity to keep a spray bottle of water handy to spritz her tail and freshen up her kelp couture. Nevertheless, there was never enough sunscreen to protect her scales. Mona found the food—endless kettles of pinto beans paired with warm black coffee—to be uninspiring. She thought the routine of hoisting and taking down the ship’s colors, with appropriate salutes and assorted rigmarole this side of ridiculous. In short, Mona was miserable and therefore well-settled.
To joyfully make matters worse, it is apparently impossible to keep a live-in mermaid a secret. When the nearby townsfolk of Simpsonville heard that a “gen–u–ine” mermaid was living aboard the Venus, most folks found one reason or another to make the short journey out of town. One by one or packed into the family car they travelled down the beautiful two-lane, tree-lined Highway 22 to see this mythical mermaid for themselves.
Mona struggled through waves of kindly visits welcoming her to town. Townsfolk’s questions were always the same, “where did she come from?”, and “how did she get here?” The most tiresome question being, “what on earth do mermaids eat?” to which Mona always responded, “Kettles of beans and black coffee three times a day.”
Following the obligatory interrogation the mermaid was bestowed with a gift of one goodie or another. Simpsonville’s best baker, Auntie Greenleaf, brought a banana nut loaf, still hot out of the oven. Ed Carston, known as the ‘Mattress King’, was so moved by Mona’s beauty that he proposed marriage. The answer was a flat-out no. Mona figured that even she couldn’t take that much misery. Tattie Smith and her three children gave the mermaid a coupon for a lifetime of hugs. Adjusting her kelp blouse, Mona politely begged off their first round of hugs. Setting the coupon aside, she told them a lifetime was an awfully long stretch, and she wasn’t sure she would be around quite that long. This was news to Lizzy, who found the tittle-tattle surprisingly depressing. Charlene, the VFW’s only soprano and star of every fall musical, insisted she perform a two hour recital for Mona. Turns out even mythical creatures can’t stop tone-deaf sopranos. Merle Winburn, owner of the town’s sporting goods store, got the whole mermaid thing wrong and brought her a bicycle.
Most afternoons passed this way, waiting for visitors to leave so Mona and Lizzy could make time to chat with the dreaming tree. Yet, maybe that tree did not keep their secrets as well as they thought? Because one day Berti Ray arrived at the Venus and announced that she was going to, “give that pirate and her fish-misses a ride into town.”