The Powder Room*

When I returned home, I saw a light flickering somewhere inside. I was certain I turned them all off before I left. Slowly, I opened the front door. At the end of the hall, a light flickered behind the powder room door. My beloved powder room. I’d ordered the vintage wallpaper from a shop in Boston.

“It’s to die for,” my designer had said. “One of kind—hand painted.”

A luscious azure blue, the wallpaper featured scenes of mermaids singing on rocks, calling to sailors in flimsy ships that easily broke when dashed against the shore. Seagulls swooped overhead while octopi lurked beneath the waves.

I had to have it. And so, I did—with one click on the computer, the wallpaper was mine, shipped across the country in sturdy cardboard tubes. When it arrived, I unfurled it on the dining room table and spent the evening staring at it. I wanted to dive into that wallpaper, to swim with those mermaids. And when I was done, I’d sit on the French porcelain sink and bask in the warm light of the crystal chandelier that sent rainbows across the watery blue walls.

But tonight, the light coming from beneath the powder room door was concerning. I was certain I had turned it off. 100% certain.

As I approached the door, I froze. From inside came the sound of crashing waves. Impossible. Now, the squawk of gulls echoed through the walls, their scream of “mine, mine, mine” joining the roar of the waves. Impossible. And yet, I could smell the salty air. My heart thudded inside my chest.

And then, they started singing sweet, melodious notes that drew my hand to the knob like iron to a magnet. They were calling. Calling me. I opened the door and stepped inside.

Gone were the pedestal sink and sunny chandelier. I stood on a beach immersed in fog, the waves soaking my shoes. Impossible. Above, three mermaids lounged on an outcropping of rocks.

“Finally, you’re here!” one mermaid called atop her craggy perch.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” another smiled.

“Join us,” said the third, and they resumed their song.

Their music enveloped me like a warm blanket. Impossible. But I couldn’t help it. I ignored my inner voice of disbelief and waded through the surf. The water was cold, but I didn’t care. They were calling me. This was my chance to swim with the mermaids.

“Who are you?” I called. “How—”

The sandy bottom dropped away beneath my feet, and I plunged under water. With a kick, I breeched the surfaced, coughing.

“Sing with us,” the first mermaid entreated, uncurling her glistening violet tail.

“I can’t sing,”

The second mermaid beckoned me with a long, pale finger tipped with a lavender nail. As she motioned, a voice not my own flowed from my mouth. I was singing and it was beautiful.

“See,” she said. “You’re one of us.”

The fog cleared, and a beam of sunshine illuminated the mermaids, making their scales sparkle.

“Come.” The third mermaid lowered her golden braid over the rocks. “Grab ahold.”

My arms and legs propelled me through the water as if not my own. Still singing, I pulled myself up on the rocks and reached for her braid. It was soft as silk. Yes, I would join them, just as I imagined. I would bask in the sunshine.

But then, something cold and strong wrapped around my ankle.

I looked down. It was an octopus, the size of a man. Its orange tentacles curled up my legs, tightening, sucking at my skin. The mermaid’s golden braid wove itself around my wrists, binding my arms together.

My beautiful song morphed into a scream. My legs stretched as the octopus pulled. The braid coiled down my arms, around my neck, underneath my breasts. I could not move.

“Help me!”

“But we are,” the violet-tailed mermaid soothed.

“Every mermaid must get her tail,” said the second, running her lavender-tipped fingers over her scales.

My arms and my shoulders burned as the mermaid’s braid held tight and the octopus pulled, pulled, pulled. Something popped in my spine and then again in my hips. My legs dangled, lifeless.

Black clouds rolled overhead, blocking out the sun.

“Almost there,” smiled the first mermaid. The octopus pulled harder.

The wind picked up, dashing the waves against the rocks. Then came the rain, blinding me to all but the silver white flicker of lightning. Its deafening crack drowned out my shrieks.

“One of us,” a voice crooned.

Something tore deep inside me and the world turned blue. The cold azure blue of the wallpaper.

*Published in the Mo' Betta Issue of Juste Milieu, November 2021.