People said if you went to the lagoon at midnight (

or on a full moon, or with your true love, or, or...

) that the merfolk could grant you a wish.

I couldn't go with my true love (Ryan didn't know he 

 my true love yet,) but I went when it was midnight 

I thought about him very hard while I made my wish: those slightly-too-short white t-shirts, the lick of his hair 

. The self-conscious way he ran his fingers through it, head tilted forward and shoulders hunched. When he was a little nervous. When he was approaching a pretty girl. (Not me, though. He didn't do 

when he talked to me.) Sometimes I think someone pasted together a dreamboat from the fifties, washed his hair, and plopped him in front of me. I loved all of him, every line, those girlish lips, the smell of his soap.

I made my wish, then, drunk, stumbled back to my hotel.

The call clanged through my hangover next morning. I could hardly believe what he was saying. 

He urged me to visit his offices before I went home. When I asked what this would cost, he said, "Not a penny."

I took the ferry to the mainland, and a cab to the offices of Merman and Merman, but it was curiosity that drove me, really. The building was luxurious. Rich wood and brass plaques all the way to my appointment on the top floor. 

was waiting for me in a dark blue suit, his damp blond curls perfectly styled. I squashed my surprise at his wheelchair.

Flashing his white teeth at me, like a shark, he gestured to the contract on the desk. Fancy pen poised, claw-like. 

Sober in bald daylight, I didn't believe he could deliver on his promise. So I signed it. 

When my plane landed, Ryan was waiting for me at the airport. 

"I thought you could use a ride," he said, with a broad smile. 

He seemed not to notice my shock, the way my lipstick-less mouth 

like a stupid goldfish. I had that weird crease in my face from falling asleep on the plane. I couldn't think of anything funny or cool or interesting or sexy to say. None of that mattered. In that moment he seemed to fumble, like he was lost in his own nerves. He laughed a little laugh. 

 like... Well. I mean. Unless-" he laughed again, running a hand through his hair. 

What's this delicious falling sensation, if I was in love already?

It didn't matter what I said in the car. It didn't matter what I did. He kept turning that 

on me. He looked like I felt. At last, something in my belly unclenched. It only got better from there. Everything 

so easy, just like I thought it should. Just like I 

When he pulled up outside my home, he said, 

I needed a shower and a hairbrush, but I could 

my eyes shining and I think, when I turned to face him, that was all he could see.

It wasn't just infatuation, like some of my friends had said.

I was dizzy in love. Giddy with it. Everyone at work commented on how happy I was, how I glowed. 

"We must meet this magic man of yours!" the girls in the office said. "Does he have a brother?"

"No, he doesn't," I laughed, "but he's really busy at the moment. Maybe I'll get him to come to Christmas drinks."

"You better!" Michelle laughed back. "We're starting to think he can't be real. He's too perfect!"

real. Imaginary boyfriends can't come inside you, can't plant a seed that takes root.

The next call came, again, when I was sick to my stomach. Not a hangover this time, but morning sickness. It took a moment to place the voice on the other end of the line. When he told me who he was, I remembered all the wood and brass, and felt cold, like I'd been dunked in blue-green slime.

"It's the only way we can have a child," he answered. 

"You can't do this!" I spat at the phone, actual spittle flying from my lips like sparks. "You said you'd do it for 

"I said it wouldn't cost you a penny," he said, "and it won't. We'll reimburse all doctor visits, lost wages et cetera."

"You cannot outrun us," he continued. "You signed the contract. It's..." (There was a pause, with something salacious about it. In my imagination, a bluish tongue slithered over sharp teeth.) "

How could I tell Ryan that I'd unwittingly signed away our child? 

They couldn't just kidnap my baby, could they? It was 

Head deep in the sand, when calls came from Merman & Merman, I ignored them.

They sent legal letters requesting updates on their my child, scan pictures, diet journals. I burnt the letters before Ryan could see. Expensive supplements arrived, which I swallowed.

I persuaded Ryan to move. Heavy-bellied, I hauled us across the country almost by force of will alone. A suggested birth plan arrived in the first week, which I burnt. A blue receiving blanket came the next day. I burnt that too.

In the deeps of it, I saw predatory white teeth and blonde waves on the edge of vision. Laughing at me.

Maybe the nurses exchanged glances over my head, even then.

I laboured for days, doctors puzzled why the baby wouldn't come.

I think, deep down, I knew. Inside me, he was beyond the mermen's grasp. Once out...

it. Stretched it until I was sure I'd break, tear clean in two. Yet I didn't want it to end, these last hours with my baby.

At last, they cut him out, against my tearful begging to leave him where he was. Where he was 

They put him straight on my chest, and held him steady, because my arms were covered in wires. It seemed too fitting, after all, that I wasn't able to hold him, shield him. 

I cried, and Ryan didn't understand and he cried too.

I was tired all the way to my bones, but too terrified to sleep. If I let my eyelids drift shut, the bassinet would surely be empty when I opened them again. I had nightmares about it, and woke on the hour gasping, checking the little plastic cot and sobbing with relief that he was still there.

In the morning, the sun streamed through the blind on to us both. I was in 

. That golden beam was like a manifestation of my sheer happiness. I bathed in it, holding him to me, marvelling in the feel of his brand new skin against mine. It was my greatest delight to murmur lullabiesagainst his hair, the exquisite curve of an ear. Try out boys names, and beaming, gauge his response.

It was all intimidation and hot air. They can't actually 

Just like that, the light dimmed. It felt like vertigo. Like being trapped in a plummeting elevator, being slammed suddenly from the top floor, 

. The familiar sick feeling returned, twisting and clammy in the pit of my gut.

I wanted to fling the stupid thing across the room, smash the face of it. There was a nurse 

(there was always a nurse there) and whatever might she think? (Did I say that aloud?)

" I repeated, and the ice in my voice alarmed even me. "Before I throw it out of the window."

I had to stay in hospital for several more days, and the phone never seemed to stop ringing.  I tried turning it off, only for Ryan to chide me that he couldn't video-call and see Arlo. The nurses always seemed too shocked at any show of temper (didn't they see tired, frazzled new mothers all the time?) so I set my jaw against the never-ending jangling. Arlo, bless him, always slept right through it. Such a beautiful, contented little baby. At last, worn out and worn down, I answered.

Keeping my face smooth, I hung up without speaking. It didn't ring again. I breathed in that new baby smell, and sighed.

A Siren's Call

Entry for the Unreliable challenge. A/N in the comments.

People said if you went to the lagoon at midnight (or on a full moon, or with your true love, or, or...) that the merfolk could grant you a wish.



A Siren's Call

Entry for the Unreliable challenge. A/N in the comments.

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of L.C. Schäfer

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L.C. Schäfer

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Review: The Accidental Sl- Poet

A Siren's Call

Entry for the Unreliable challenge. A/N in the comments.

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of .css-13w9qce-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-accent);}L.C. Schäfer

About the Creator

L.C. Schäfer

Comments (9)

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Keep reading

Review: The Accidental Sl- Poet

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of L.C. Schäfer