The Old Woman and the Sea

Fran sat as close to the water as the giant rock would allow, letting the waves wash over her toes, her calves, her thighs. In, and out. In. and out. Ice cold liquid, burning hot air. She was surrounded by only those who could make use of the ideal beach day that was that Monday morning: stay-at-home parents with their toddlers, retirees like herself resting their weary bones by in the waning waves of the Pacific. This was the most magical time to be at the beach-- surrounded by children who'd believe anything and adults who'd seen everything.

"Have you seen any tidepools?"

Fran turned to face the little five year old. In a too-tight fist he clutched a wriggling purple crab. She opened her palm.

"Let's see what we can do, Sylvester."

She placed the crab gently on the rock beside her and they watched together as it scuttled away.

"Usually," she told the boy. "They know what they need."

Sylvester nodded thoughtfully before running away.

"We know what we need, huh?" Came a voice from below.

Fran glanced down. Gazing up at her from just beneath the water was a woman. Plump, orange skin, with gills set beneath high cheekbones. Pink hair that moved of its own accord: individual strands reaching out to plunk tiny creatures from the rock surface. Long, chubby arms-- also orange --with webbing between the fingers. It was unclear what lay below her shoulders, but Fran was willing to bet it was even more aquatic than what was currently in view.

"I thought I saw you last week," she whispered in awe.

"You probably did," the creature responded. "We typically aren't careful-- the humanlings are harmless."

"And the adults?"

The creature squinted at Fran curiously. "They typically don't notice. Or believe their young ones."

The two sat in an uncomfortable silence-- eyeing one another tentatively. Fran was deathly afraid that one wrong word could sent the mermaid away in an instant.

"Are you...a mermaid?" Fran asked finally.

"Mermaids, sirens...you've had many names for us over the years."

"Sirens!" Fran peered down. "Are you here to lure me to my death?"

The watery woman snorted. "There's a reason we avoid adults of your species. You have minds like sea slugs. Some fish-tailed woman tries to tell you that she knows the military movements of your enemies and the next thing you know, a ship-load of you jump into the water to 'hear us better'."

Well, that didn't make it into my translation of The Odyssey, Fran thought. "Some members of our species," she offered. "Are fools."

"I'll say." The creature paused. "Are you a fool?"

"I try not to be. Though we're all foolish in some ways. My name is Fran."

"Fran. Lovely. I'm--" there was a burbling noise and the fills on the sides of her face rippled.

Fran paused. "Any, um, any suggestions on how to say that if one doesn't have gills?"

"No," the mermaid laughed. "Do you have a name you like very much? A human name?"

"My daughter's name is Melanie. I don't get to see her as often as I'd like."

"Call me Melanie, then," she offered. "Though if you hope to speak to any sea creature, you must learn to make the--" gills rippled "-- sound."

"Perhaps you can teach me," Fran smiled. "What brings you to the surface, Melanie?"

Melanie's face changed entirely. Her gills pressed against her skull, her hair shrank back to frame her face tightly.

"One of your....kind," she said finally. A boat came by our home last night and dropped..."

Melanie moved slightly and Fran could see that she was, in fact, a fish from the chest down. And that in her tail she was holding a bright pink Jansport backpack.

"It's made several fish very sick," Melanie explained. "And my sister...has been acting very weird since she opened it. I wanted to put it back for one of you all to find. But I couldn't bear to let the humanlings touch it.

"I'll take it," Fran said immediately. Opening the bag confirmed her suspicions.

-----------------------------------------
"You said you found this _where_?" Detective Khan was not sure she believed the old woman.

"It washed ashore," Fran repeated.

"A backpack full of cocaine washed onto the beach," the detective repeated incredulously.

"It's hardly _full_ but yes, There are a number of witnesses who saw."

Farida Khan sighed. A number of witnesses _had_ seen. Five year old witnesses who claimed that a big orange fish had pushed the bag ashore. Thankfully, the imaginations of toddlers weren't up for investigation.

"If I may, Detective Khan," Fran noted politely. "There's also some kind of tracking device in there. Someone thought they could retrieve this later."

Khan looked up. She had noticed the tracking device but for the woman in front of her to...Fran was old, yes, but there was something about her that looked familiar. She glanced back down at the name on the witness statement. Francesca Garcia. Francesca Garcia....retired Police Commissioner Francesca Garcia. Her eyes snapped back up.

"Yes, I noticed that as well, ma'am. I will be coordinating with other teams to see if there's a link to any open cases. Thank you for your service-- I mean assistance."

Fran smiled. "Thank you for taking my statement, detective. And if you need any additional assistance, please don't hesitate to reach out."

In the meantime, thought Fran, I'm going back to the beach.