If Only

by Katja

I woke up not remembering my dream, but something must have startled me out of sleeping. I glanced over at my clock, the red numbers cut into the darkness, reading 3:42 AM. The moon could still barely be seen out of my window, and the night shown its darkness through my room. I clicked on my bedside lamp, allowing the light to slash the darkness into ribbons, and traced my eyes across my room, looking at the familiar collection of sea faring things, from my painting of a starfish, to the pictures of the ocean.

Knowing that sleep would evade me even if I tried to rest, I swung myself out of bed and trotted across my sand coloured carpet. I sat myself at my oak desk and reached onto my bookshelf, freeing one of the thick books from the shelf. I placed the book in front of me, dusting off the pale blue cover. “Mermaids” it read simply, “written by Francis Marie Callings.” It had been a while since I had opened this particular book, but I still knew exactly which page to turn to. I flipped the well worn paper to page 115, the chapter entitled “Mermaids Among Us: Are They Still Out There?” I had read this chapter hundreds of times and something about why I had awakened led me to it. I hadn’t really focused on my otherkin nature for a while, my merside was always there, but I hadn’t been to the ocean in so long that part of me felt dormant, unexpressed. I skimmed over the chapter and then flipped to the front page and began reading.

By the time I had reached page 115 again sunlight flooded through my windows. It was just past seven in the morning when I shut the book and placed it back on its wooden home.

All through breakfast and the first part of my day, thoughts of the ocean haunted me. I felt the pull of the depths as I hadn’t for years. Every time I washed my hands I was surprised at the lack of webbing between my fingers, the lack of scales on parts of my skin. I lived on the coast, and I knew it would only be about an hour drive to go down to the beach, yet part of me felt as though I shouldn’t go. All of me wanted to feel the rush and motion of the ocean, all of me wanted to take great gulps of the salty water… and yet, I held the feeling that this time would be different. It may have been fear that held me back, but after hours of pacing, of wishing that I could be flipping my way through salty water, I gave in. I locked up, went to my car, and spent an hour in anticipation. When I got to the beach I found it surprisingly empty, holding only three families, leaving seven kids playing in the sand while parents reclined in the sun. I headed down in my bikini top and sari bottom. As I passed the children and their sand castles, one of them spoke up, “How is it breathing under water?” he asked, pointing at my neck. I said the first thing that came to mind, “A lot like it is breathing above water.” One of the little girls piped up as I walked away, “I’m a mermaid, too,” she said planting another tower of sand onto their castle.

I chuckled as I wondered if she really was. Once the cool water splashed against my feet I felt home. I dropped the sari, waded into the water, closing my eyes as the waves rocked and sprayed around me. I took a breathe and dived into the ocean, feeling the salty liquid encase me as I swam for as long as I could on one breath. When I surfaced to fill my lungs again, I was surprised at how far I had swum. I went under again, deep enough to where the kelp at the bottom tickled my stomach, I dolphin kicked and felt myself speed through the water, I opened my eyes to see rocks and shells as my fingers traced the underwater treasures. I surfaced again and turned on my back, floating so I could look at the sky. I held my hand up to block the sun and heard myself gasp. There, in between each of my fingers was new, thin skin. I treaded water as I stared at what I could barely believe. I traced the impossible webbing on my right hand with my left, splaying my fingers to get a better look. I took deeper breaths, trying to clear my head, but the more I tried, the less fulfilling the air was, and with each breath, I felt something on my neck tense. I moved my now shaking hands to the side of my neck and felt what I couldn’t believe. I felt gills. Without another thought I dipped into the water and took a huge breath. The water felt like cool relief on a sweltering day; it passed through my mouth and out of my gills, leaving the oxygen to go into my lungs. I smiled and returned to surface to look more at my new features. I tested the air, I could still breathe above water, but it wasn’t as satisfying. I stared in amazement as I noticed small fins on both of my forearms, both almost skin coloured, but holding a tint of blue-green. Part of me wanted to call out to those on the beach, to yell to them, “Hey! Look at this! I’m me again!” But that feeling was quickly gone, replaced by pure wonder at what was happening.
I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but treading water had become extremely easy. I could stay above the surface without much effort. I dived under water again and looked to where my legs were. I could still see their definition, their shape, but now they were covered in fine scales, pressed together, and ended in the most beautiful flukes I had ever seen. My new tail (that thought sent me into delighted giggles) began a deep copper colour that matched my hair, and slowly faded into a blue-green on the tips. With a kick of my fin, I went sailing through the water with great ease. I took in deep breaths of the cool, salty ocean and smiled as my webbed fingers traced the kelp. I was home, completely home.

I awoke to the sound of my alarm. I nearly ripped it from the table and threw it across my room for shattering my dream. I lied back in bed, breathing a deep sigh, and held up my hands in front of me. No webbing… no scales… just a dream. I sighed again, letting words escape my lips, “If only.”