The Amazing Mermaid
Arlen Feldman
Betty’s heart sank. “I thought we just had to hold still and pose?”
“Depends on the town,” said Mr. Brovost. “Some of them don’t allow you to move at all – then it’s ‘art’. Other places, you can get away with just about anything. We charge more in those places. A few, dancing’s all that’s allowed.”
“Oh.” Betty hadn’t really thought through exactly what they’d want her to do – just that it was a chance to get away from home. She was more or less willing to pose in the carnival sideshow, but dancing would be awfully tough. “I could shimmy a little. Maybe.”
This got a frown from Mr. Brovost. The man was large, with a bushy black mustache under a thick red nose. “Most girls can dance. Something wrong with you?”
And then she had to show him. Honestly, as terrified as she was about taking off her top, she’d far rather do that than show him her leg, which was too skinny and bent the wrong way.
“Polio?” he asked, and Betty nodded miserably. “Sorry, lass,” he said, not unkindly, “but it’s a nudie-show. The gents don’t want to see that sort of thing.”
She wasn’t going to cry. She’d figure out another way to get away. She nodded to Mr. Brovost, got painfully to her feet, and made her way to the wagon’s exit.
“You know,” said Brovost, “we’re not the only sideshow. There’s the Ten-In-One…”
The tent where Brovost directed her was dirty-white and torn in several places. She made her way around the side. Wagons, cars, and trucks were parked randomly around an open area, along with a handful of small tents. The remains of a fire were still smoldering in a pit in the center.
She spotted a man leaning against one of the trucks. He was wearing a suit and tie and smoking a cigarette, but his hair was made up of thick ropes that dangled around his dark face. Betty looked about for anyone else to talk to, but he was the only one there.
“Can I help you, miss?” he said. His voice was deep and resonant, but with a lilting accent.
Betty took a deep breath. “Mr. Brovost from the Model Show sent me over. He thought that maybe… maybe you could give me a job?”
The man arched an eyebrow at her. “You do know what sort of a show we are?”
She nodded miserably. “You’re the freaks, right?”
The man winced, but nodded once. “There are two types of performers in our show,” he said in that beautifully rolling voice. “Those with a particular skill, like sword swallowing or breathing fire. And those who are different, who have something to show to the audience. So, which are you?”
For the second time that day, Betty found herself showing off her withered leg. The man walked around her, examining the limb like a connoisseur, then shook his head.
“It is sad,” he said, “but it is not unusual.”
Betty just stood there. Earlier, she had been ashamed for not being normal. Now she was ashamed for being too normal.
The man with the wild hair stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Can you swim?”
Of all the questions he might have asked her, she hadn’t expected that one. “Uh, y-yes. I used to swim all the time. When I was a girl they had me swimming as therapy for…” she indicated her leg.
“Come with me then. There may be something for you here.”
The man turned and headed towards a closed-top truck, slowing when he saw how awkwardly Betty moved, an awkward shuffle to avoid putting too much weight on her bad leg. He waited patiently for her to catch up.
“I’m Clarke,” he said. “And, also, I am the Wild Man of Borneo, although I will admit that I am not quite sure where Borneo is.”
Betty almost smiled at this.
Clarke started digging around in the back of the truck. There were a few loud thumps before he pulled down a heavy trunk. “This belonged to a girl named Lana, who is no longer with us. She got married, and now pretends she was never here.” He unbuckled the straps on the trunk and flipped it open. Betty leaned forward eagerly to see what was inside, then leaned away. There was a strong smell of mildew and wet things never properly dried.
Clarke didn’t seem bothered by the smell. He started pulling items out of the trunk. There were a series of skimpy halter-tops, and then two strange-shaped things she didn’t recognize.
“Lana was our mermaid,” said Clarke, and suddenly Betty could identify the garments – they were tails. “She used to wear this one.”
He held it out to her, and she took it. It was the right shape, but very badly sewn. Even Betty, who could barely put on a button, could see the terrible stitching.
“It’s the wrong shape,” she said.
Clarke nodded approvingly. “Lana made this herself. She couldn’t fit in the older one. But maybe, with your leg…?” He held up the second tail.
Except for the general shape, it was completely different from the first. It was longer and thinner and much better made, and was covered in so many sequins it glimmered like real fish scales. The fin at the end split like a dolphin’s tail.
It also smelled of mildew.
“What… what would I have to do?”
“Well, we have a tank that we fill with water. You put on the tail and the top. Lana just waved. Truth to tell, I think she could not swim. But if you could dive under the water and smile, that would be enough, no?”
When she’d come to the carnival, she thought that she’d have to stand in a tent behind a gauze curtain, wearing almost nothing while men leered at her. But there would have been other girls around her doing the same thing. Was this better? Worse? At least it meant she could get away.
“I’ll try it.”
Clarke smiled at her. “That’s the spirit. I’ll get a couple of the canvas boys to clean and prepare the tank. You can do a little test before the first show tonight.”
He started to walk off just as a wave of panic hit her. She wanted to call him back, to tell him she’d changed her mind, but she couldn’t find her voice.
When she’d taken charge of the two tails, the second one – the nicer one – seemed unexpectedly heavy, like she’d sink right to the bottom. The first one was at least lighter, so she tried that on first, but it was way too big. She used some safety pins to make it stay up, but that made it bunch around her waist. It just looked ridiculous. And there were several holes in it. If she jumped into the tank, the whole tail would fill up with water and probably slip right off!
It was no good, she’d have to try the other one. The tail had been out of the trunk for a while now, so the mildew smell wasn’t as bad, which helped. Sitting in a chair, she lifted up her bad leg and shoved it inside, then slipped her normal leg in after it and wriggled until the tail came all the way up to her waist. Clarke had been right, it was a tight fit. Whoever it had originally been made for must have been tiny – or had also had only one good leg.
She moved her legs experimentally, and it looked convincing, although a little too much like a fish out of water. She wouldn’t really know how it would work until she got into the tank.
Her changing area was against the back of the tank, which was painted on the other side with an underwater scene so no one could see all the way through. The tank itself wasn’t huge – eight feet tall and maybe twelve feet wide but only three or four feet front to back, with a ladder for her to climb to get in.
But a ladder only works if you have feet.
Betty’s arms were strong – they had to be to make up for her bad leg – so she grabbed a rung and lifted herself off the chair, then managed to heave herself up onto another rung before slipping and landing loudly and painfully on her rump, sending the chair flying.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up to see a tall man standing over her. He was handsome, with an Errol Flynn-style pencil mustache, and dark, slicked-back hair. Betty straightened herself up as best she could before answering.
“I think I’m okay.” She tried to maneuver herself, but couldn’t move in the tail, and could hardly take it off with just her panties underneath. Now she really was a fish out of water.
“If you will permit me, maybe I can help?” The man righted the chair, then bent down, put one arm behind her back, another under her tail, lifting her like she was a child and setting her down on the seat.
“I’m Harry,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake.
She took it, feeling herself blush. “Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Betty.”
“Pleasure,” he said.
“What do you do here, Harry?”
“I’m the sword swallower.”
Betty’s eyes went wide. She’d heard of sword swallowing. It sounded dangerous.
“I’m the new mermaid,” she said. “Or hope to be, if I can get into the tank.”
His chuckle was friendly, with her, not at her, and she managed to smile back.
“Harry?” someone called at that moment. The curtain between them and the world twitched, then jerked apart far enough for a face to appear – a smooth, sensual face in a cloud of artfully curled bottle-blonde hair. “Harry, what are you doing back here?”
Betty watched as a glamorous vision slipped through to join them, all legs and frills and bodice and bosom, and rather less of the frills and the bodice than the rest.
“Oh,” the woman said. “You’re fishing, I guess.”
Betty blushed even redder.
“You should be more welcoming, Ruth,” Harry said in a chiding if affectionate tone.
“And you should be on stage in a good thirty seconds,” Ruth replied. “Unless you want Clarke to stick you with those swords instead of swallowing them.” She cast a dismissive eye over Betty once more. “Break a fin,” she added, then swept out the way she came.
“My audience awaits,” Harry said, smiling. “And, perhaps you should wait until you are at the top of the ladder before putting on your tail?”
Betty tried for another smile. “I’ll try that next time. And thanks.”
Harry bowed, a twinkle in his eye, and pushed his way out through the curtain.
The logistics were still tricky. Betty wriggled out of the tail, draped it over the top of the tank, then hopped and tugged herself up the ladder. She hesitated at the top – if the curtain opened at the wrong moment she’d be entirely exposed. But she needed this job, needed to get away. She took a deep breath and swung herself over the top of the tank.
Getting the tail on the second time was a little easier, even sitting on the tiny platform above the tank. It was even a bit more comfortable, and the seam where it met her own skin was almost invisible. She flicked the tail around a bit, then started to lower herself into the water.
The water was freezing. She gasped, then forced herself to drop down until she was just holding on with one hand. Whoever had made the tail knew their business – almost no water was getting inside, which meant she wasn’t going to be dragged down to the bottom to drown.
She took a deep breath, just in case, then let go.
There was nothing really to see – just the thick scratched glass. Because the curtain was pulled, she couldn’t even look out into the big tent. But it didn’t matter. For the first time in months – years, maybe – she felt content.
The only problem was that the tank was so small. Well, it wasn’t cramped like a closet, but there was only enough depth to maybe turn a summersault without quite hitting the bottom, to stretch out her tail to one side or the other. But she felt light in the water. Almost as graceful as that mean showgirl.
She looked up and saw Clarke’s head and torso peering down at her. He must have been standing on the ladder. Reluctantly, she swam up and broke the surface.
Clarke was grinning. “Well, I think that you might just do.”
She grinned back.
And then the carnival would move on to a new town. Betty got happier and happier the further she got from her old home. Clarke managed the show when he wasn’t being the Wild Man of Borneo, and had lent her the use of an old tent and sleeping bag – which had also belonged to Lana, the last mermaid. Only a tent. But also a place of her own.
She got along well with most of the other performers. The group would often eat together around a big fire. There was Judy, the bearded lady. A dwarf couple called Max and Daisie. A strong-man, an escape-artist, a snake-charmer, and a woman named Maureen covered neck-to-toe with tattoos, who had come from London and whose accent was mostly unintelligible to Betty. There was also a two-headed goat named Gertie.
And then there was Harry, the sword-swallower.
She wanted to ask Harry what he’d been before he joined the sideshow, but she’d learned quickly that you never asked a carny their real name, or about their past, unless they volunteered the information.
Because she was in the tank during the show, she never got to see his actual performance, but she loved watching him rehearse. He would carefully wipe down one of his swords, throw back his head, and swallow it until only the hilt was sticking out of his mouth. He held the pose for a moment, then pulled the sword out and wiped it down again.
He followed the first with bigger swords, or strings of razor blades, Betty unable to keep from gasping every time, and at the end she applauded and he bowed to his audience of one with a wink.
“I’ll never get used to seeing that,” she told him one day. “It seems impossible.”
“Just lots of practice. Like swimming with a mermaid tale, I expect.”
“Oh, that’s mostly just posing. It’s not like a real skill.”
Harry turned to her and looked her in the eyes. “It is real the way you do it. Don’t ever talk yourself down.”
She couldn’t remember anyone ever telling her something like that. She smiled shyly, trying not to cry, and gave a quick nod, which got her another wink, but then he started packing up his things.
“I’m afraid I have to go,” he said, apologetically. “Ruth is waiting for me.”
Betty nodded. “Have a good time,” she said. She was almost sure she’d kept her voice even and upbeat when she’d said it.
That evening, Betty leaned back against a wagon’s wheel, listening to the others talk about old acts, including a human ostrich who would swallow and then regurgitate live guinea pigs, a cowboy named Duke who did rope tricks, and a ‘mirrored lady’ with reflecting skin. After a while, Max started strumming a child-sized guitar.
Betty sighed contentedly. “This is the perfect life.”
“Is,” said The Incredible Samson, the show’s strong man. “Sleep ’til noon, get adoration of crowd, then rest in company of good folk.” Most of the others nodded in agreement, although Clarke did not. He was always worried about money and the other details of the show. And Harry didn’t, because he wasn’t there that night. He seemed to disappear most evenings.
Betty guessed she knew where.
But this new lot had a major problem – no water. The advance man hadn’t been able to find a spot with a proper water supply. There was a lot of cursing from everyone who needed to wash or cook anything, but it also meant that there was no way to fill the tank.
So, for the first time, Betty got to watch the whole event, starting with the free mini-show – the bally – on the stage out front of the tent. Their Talker would gather a tip – the carny term for a crowd – while Harry and some of the others did little bits from their acts.
All of the acts were impressive, but Betty only had eyes for Harry. He wiped down a silver blade, inserted it a good twenty inches down his throat, to the cheers and gasps of the crowd, then pulled it out again, and when he took his bow he winked right at her.
She winked back, then he made way for Samson, who took a length of iron rebar and tied it in a knot. Soon the Talker was easing the audience towards the real show, but as Betty joined the back of the crowd someone slammed into her from behind, knocking her to the ground.
She looked up to find Ruth sneering down at her.
“You should be more careful,” she said. “I guess you were looking in the wrong place.” She eyed Harry proprietarily, then stalked away, leaving Betty to pull herself painfully to her feet.
Betty slipped into the show anyway, her limp suddenly worse. All the swimming had made her weak leg stronger than it had been in years, but now it just hurt. She wondered how Harry could be with someone like that. Although it seemed incredible that he hadn’t seen what Ruth did, he had apparently missed the whole thing, because that evening he put on a thrilling show.
The morning after the show, most everyone headed to the lake. When Harry appeared he already had his arm around Ruth, which for Betty was just one more reminder where he spent all his evenings.
Betty waited until everyone else had gone, then took her tail out of the trunk and walked a longer route to an area out of sight of the others. Ever since she had first entered the tank, she’d been dying to get into a bigger body of water, and now was her chance.
After so much practice, it took her no time at all to get the tail on. She slithered awkwardly over some rocks and then into the water.
It was glorious.
She’d always been a strong swimmer, and after the polio her arms had made up for her leg, but with all the extra practice in the tank she was better than she’d ever been. She sliced through the water, the tail propelling her along as if it really was a part of her, and she went out maybe two hundred yards before turning.
Her friends from the Ten-In-One were on the lake shore, several, including Harry, in the water splashing about. Betty swam toward them, diving below the surface when she got close, then came up right in front of Harry and splashed him full in the face.
“Why you little—” He splashed her back, a big grin on his face. She slapped her tail against the water, this time soaking not just Harry, but Maureen and Samson too, who joined in, everyone splashing each other randomly.
“Oh, Harry?” The call came from the shore, shrill and loud: Ruth, hands on her hips, looking murderous.
Harry blushed, mumbled something, then headed back to the shore. As soon as he was out of the water, she put her arm around him. “Let’s go for a walk,” she said, still using the shrill voice despite Harry standing right next to her.
Betty watched from the water as he put his arm around the girl’s shoulders and led her away. She was wearing shorts, and her legs were tanned and perfectly formed.
Betty had never hated anyone so much in her life.
She thought she’d never been as happy in her life, surrounded by people she genuinely cared about – with one exception – and who seemed genuinely to care about her. It was as unlike her home as she could imagine.
It was on the next big jump that she saw it for the first time. She was squeezed in the back of one of the trucks, Samson on one side of her, Max and Daisie on the other holding hands. They crested a hill and, suddenly, there it was – the Atlantic Ocean.
Betty gasped at the sight. Could there really be that much water in the world?
Samson put a massive hand on her knee, her proper knee. “Is a lot rougher than lake,” he said. “I know you mermaid and all, but don’t go out by self.”
She laughed and patted his hand. But it wasn’t like she had anyone else to go with, did she? Max and Dasie had each other, but there was no merman to go swimming with. No man at all. She sighed and stared out at the water until it disappeared from view around a bend in the road.
Up close, the ocean was even more amazing, stretching out forever. Samson had been right – it was a lot rougher, with big waves slamming into the beach. She should have been terrified, would have been a few months ago. But now, she was filled with excitement.
After a while, she turned and was amazed to see how far she’d come, the beach and dunes barely visible in the distance. She was a bit tired, but the salty ocean water was so buoyant – perhaps she could keep going a little further? But no, Samson was right, she should be careful. She took one last look out to sea, then started back towards the shore, her mind pleasantly blank of any thoughts other than to stroke her arms, to kick one leg, the other drawn behind her and gently lifted by the swell.
It was good she’d turned around when she did. By the time she got close to the beach, her arms and legs were starting to ache a little, and she hadn’t realized how far the tide had dragged her sideways. The beach in front was completely different from the one where she’d left her clothes. It was a small patch of sand surrounded by rocks. And it wasn’t empty – there were the girls from the model show, including Ruth.
She was too tired to swim far against the current, but there was no way she was getting out in front of Ruth. She made for another sandy area on the other side of the rocks where she could stay out of their sight. Betty forced herself to swim past the rocks then struggled through the breakers, finally laying panting in the sand as smaller waves washed over her.
She could hear the voices of the other girls quite clearly. They were talking about men, using words and phrases that Betty was shocked to hear. Most were getting ready to head back to the site for lunch, but Ruth announced she was staying to work on her tan.
“Always keeping Harry happy,” one of the girls said. “How good is he with his sword?”
The others all giggled.
“Oh, he’s pretty damn good,” said Ruth with a chuckle. “But it ain’t serious. He don’t have no prospects. Not like Martin. Martin’s making a fortune with his concession stand. We’re just waiting for the right town, then we’re going to get married and leave the carnival for good. And I’ll be Mrs. Martin Hofstetter.”
There was a round of laughter from the other girls. Betty just sat there, listening to the sounds of their departure. Thinking of the little insults, and those not so little. Thinking of how nice Harry was, and how horrible that ugly-hearted woman was. How happy he could be with her instead, if only he knew what she knew.
It took Betty a while to find a way through the rocks, her anger building as she struggled, her leg protesting every uneven step. But she finally found an route and stood looking down on Ruth, lying back on a towel in the sun.
“How could you?”
Ruth started, but when she saw Betty her lips curled into a smile. “Why, if it ain’t Miss Gimpy, the Human Fish.”
Betty glared at her. “You’re two-timing Harry.”
“Oh, I don’t think Harry thinks we’re exclusive,” said Ruth, leaning on her elbows and looking up at Betty as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “But I’ll tell you this. Even after I’m gone, he ain’t going ta be interested in you. He needs a whole woman.”
Betty had no memory of picking up the rock, but now she raised it in her hand, bigger than her fist.
Ruth’s eyes grew wide behind her dark glasses. “You put that down, you crazy—”
The rock hit her in the hip and Ruth let out a scream of pain, rolling off the towel and scrambling to her feet, then falling on her face with a moan as her leg folded under her.
Ruth pushed herself up again, wailing breathlessly and hobbling away down the slope of the beach. Betty stooped to pick up the rock again, weighing it in her palm. She watched as Ruth stumbled into the first of the breaking waves, spluttering on her knees in a cloud of spray, and then she followed, welcoming the water as it lapped at her feet.
Later, as she swam against the current towards the beach where her clothes were waiting, she heard a distant cry from behind her. She didn’t recognise the voice. But it wasn’t Ruth.
But one of the models let slip that Ruth had been seeing Harry, so the cops arrested him and took him away.
The rest of the acts from the Ten-In-One gathered around their campsite, no one speaking. Betty forced herself to go out there as well, but she couldn’t stop crying. Clarke had handed her a handkerchief, and she was holding onto it for dear life.
Finally, Maureen asked Clarke if there would even be a show tomorrow, and Clarke sighed. “Yes, there’ll be a show, and we’ll probably have double the take.”
“But they can’t really believe Harry did anything, can they?” said Daisy. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Cops just care they got someone,” said Samson. “And he has swords. Good enough.”
“But she wasn’t killed with a sword,” said Betty, unable to stop herself.
“No?” Samson shrugged. “Don’t matter to cops.”
Betty struggled to her feet and made her way into the main tent and the private little area behind the empty tank. There in the shadows she closed her eyes. She couldn’t let Harry get punished for something he hadn’t done. She’d have to turn herself in. But she was terrified. Although the cops might not even believe her. And she couldn’t bear the thought of how her friends would look at her.
The curtains parted behind her. “Are you alright, Betty?” It was Clarke.
She looked up at him, unable to speak. She wanted to tell him that it was all her fault. That she hadn’t meant to. That she’d do anything to help Harry. But her throat wouldn’t work. He held out his arms, and she let him hug her, tears pouring down her cheeks.
“I know you like Harry,” he said gently. “You don’t have to go on tonight, if you don’t want to. We’ll make do.”
She shook her head. “There’s rules for how we treat carnies, right?” she asked. “Don’t… don’t screw things up for one of our own, or something?”
Clarke grunted. “Carnies have been feuding with each other for as long as they’ve existed, I reckon. But maybe there’s something like that.”
“Harry didn’t kill her.”
“I know, girl.”
“I know too.”
She felt Clarke’s embrace change, stiffen a little. She let him go and stepped back. He was looking at her, more or less the way she’d imagined. Her home was going away.
“Ah, Betty,” he started, “why would you—” Then he stopped, knowing. “Ah.”
“I’ll leave,” she said, “right now. Just, give me a little time before you make the call. You’ll tell them? The police? Make sure they know it wasn’t Harry. And tell him… I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “Collect your things. And get some food too. I’ll give you an hour. I don’t know where you can go, but…”
She nodded, then turned and awkwardly started towards her little tent. Clarke watched for a bit, then said, “Perhaps I give you two hours?”
She looked out over the endless, shifting expanse for a long while, then got as close to the waves as she could before putting on the tail. It was tricky with the water coming in and out, the wet sand sucking at her bottom. Trickier still to get past the waves. But then the tail made it easier to move, the swells lifting her as she went out further and further.
The sun was beginning to set and there was a golden path burned into the water in front of her.
Who knows, she thought, maybe I can make it to the other side.
The mermaid began to swim.
Thanks for reading - but we’d love feedback! Let us know what you think of The Amazing Mermaid on Facebook.
Mythaxis is forever free to read, but if you'd like to support us you can do so here (but only if you really want to!)