Little Spring

Rhoda Lee was first in line though; at this time of year there wasn’t much of a line to swim in the springs. She imagined the dozen or so people in line behind her were a mix of seasoned locals and maybe a couple of tourists. The recent cold snap of the last few days had dwindled the morning crowd so much she almost felt silly calling a taxi so early.

She took a deep breath as the ticket window opened and a moon-faced young lady beckoned her over.

“Good morning, just one please.” Rhoda said with her money in hand.

“Good morning, bit nippy even for me! Hope you’ve got a warm towel! That’ll be $12.” Megan, her name gracing her nametag next to a blue silhouette of a mermaid, smiled as she took the bills from Rhoda.

“I’m sure it’ll warm up by lunch, thank you.” Rhoda put her change in her small wallet and tucked it into the beach bag slung on her shoulder.

She took her receipt and paper map and made her way through the maze of gift shop stalls, vending machines, and employees with sleepy eyes.

The marked path wound through ferns and saw grass that brushed her body. A peacock gave her a wide berth as she passed, stretching its neck into the dappled sunlight.

Rhoda cursed her bad hip but kept up her brisk pace. It hadn’t started bothering her until her 68th birthday a couple years before, and it seemed as soon as she blew out her candles the ache began in earnest.

As she walked to the edge of the white sand she paused to remove her slip-on sneakers and popped them into the bag that contained a thick towel and her sweater. Thank goodness the sun is shining or I’d chicken out.

She gazed out past the sand and few dozen beach chairs. This was all that separated her from the glittering river that was her goal. From where she stood Rhoda thought the sunlight made the turquoise water shimmer with magic.

Voices drew her gaze to the other visitors making their way to the chairs, claiming the best spots with carefully arranged towels and flip-flops. Following suite, Rhoda plopped her bag down unceremoniously on the nearest white chair and slipped her clothes off revealing the modest butter-yellow suit underneath. The sand was surprisingly warm under her feet and she was glad for it.

For the first time this morning this was where she hesitated. Did she really have to go further? Couldn’t she just enjoy the sun in her chair, letting her warm her goose bumped skin for a few hours while she read the book in her bag? Was freezing in the water necessary?

The trip was impulsive. The night before she’d been combing through a lifetime of memories. Hundreds of photos, knickknacks, trinkets, and whatsits stored haphazardly in boxes. Her late husband Paul’s pressed pennies from the dozens of theme parks they’d been to over the years rattled in a mason jar, next to that were her eldest sons winning baseball from when he was in little league.

They’d never been great at organizing their treasures but they knew their significance so kept it all, moving their plastic storage bins from one military assignment to another. The plan had always been to eventually take the time to sort through it all, giving the kids what was theirs and giving pride of place to their favorites.

Despite retirement, Rhoda and Paul never seemed to have enough time. And now, 5 years since his passing, her heart and schedule allowed her some energy to begin the long-awaited journey into the contents of their life.

Under folders of her kids childhood artwork, handprints traced into turkeys and third grade poetry that had once hung proudly in school hallways, she found her own scrapbook. She hadn’t seen it in many years, since she’d once shown it to her own children and they’d reveled in seeing it.

She flipped through the book, some of the clippings barely clinging to the pages, the glue long since sticky. After smirking at the hearts around Bob Dylan alongside a poem declaring her undying love, she’d turned the page to see herself.

“Mermaids Usher in Summer- Amazing Underwater Feats Draw Record-Breaking Crowds!”

And there Rhoda was, front and center below the headline. The image was black and white and faded, but she remembered it all clearly. In the photo she was in her mermaid tail and grinning wide behind the glass wall, posing for the journalist on the other side, her long brown hair floating all around. She had been stunned when she found out she was cover photo, having seen the reporter take dozens of pictures that day.

It had been her third and last summer working for the park. She’d met Paul there, performing together underwater, sharing fries and shakes with their fellow mermaids in the sweltering sun. It was one of the best times of her life.

She was heartbroken when life and careers forced them to leave the sunshine state. When they finally retired, they’d done so back to their hometown. It was hard to settle though, often having so many activities with friends and traveling to their now grown children and their families.

But seeing her own face and remembering how she’d held her breath for that photo steeled in her mind what she had to do.

So that morning she’d dressed and packed her tote, and Rhoda called a taxi.

Weeki Wachee had changed a lot since she danced with turtles and delighted tourists. But the river was the same as it had ever been, fresh and ancient at the same time.

Rhoda held the railing as she carefully walked down the ramp and as her feet slid into the water she gasped. Still freezing!

A few people politely passed her as they headed into the shallows with little hesitation, and this steadied her resolve to continue. She remembered all too well that dragging out the first plunge only made it worse.

So, she kept stepping carefully so she wouldn’t slip, but without stopping. Dipping below the chest was the hardest part, as it had always been. With a deep breath and her eyes squeezed tight, she bent her knees and submerged herself.

Oh yes, this was familiar. Despite the decades that had kept them apart, Rhoda knew this feeling. She had played in this river before she was an employee; her own parents took her to swim and see the mermaids every summer growing up. And she’d enjoyed many an afternoon picnic at Rogers Park when it was nothing more than a parking lot further along the river.

She held her breath, the cold no longer an obstacle, and she opened her eyes. Rays of sunlight broke through the floating algae. It was blurry and beautiful, and she wondered if the gift shops sold goggles.

Rhoda broke through the surface and took a deep breath as she swam further out toward the large floating dock. A few people stood atop it, closely watched by lifeguards. Below her, the 20-foot chasm called to her, but she knew her lung capacity, along with her muscles, were much weaker than they had been in her twenties.

My hairband. I was swimming right here with my friends and forgot to take my hairband out.

She recalled it vividly despite not thinking of this small event in decades. Her maroon headband was last seen landing near the bottom of the spring and camouflaging in the darkness against the weeds and soft algae. She’d been with a few friends enjoying a day off just before Paul proposed, propelling their lives into a new direction. When she’d suddenly grasped her wet hair and told her friends, many of whom also worked at the springs, they all stuck their heads under the water. Who was the girl who saved it? What was her name?

She floated still while clawing at the memory,the crowd swimming around her had increased and a few splashes from a group of young boys wet her cheeks. She remembered the friend had hair so blonde it was practically white, and she was the smallest of them all. Teeny Rennie...yes Rennie was the first to reach it! Rennie, despite her short stature, was the fastest swimmer and had swum to the bottom of the spring before anyone else could get close. Rhoda had been delighted to have her headband back. She wondered if her Reenies short stature had prevented her from ever trying out for the Mermaid show, or maybe she never desired it like so many others. And she wondered what Reenie’s life had been like, if she was still alive.

Despite the sun warming her she shivered. Rhoda swam slowly toward the ramp that would lead her back to her warm towel. She had one more mission this morning, and she knew she needed to get there early for a front row seat.

The auditorium had been built into the limescale rock 16 feet below the surface of the water. The large glass walls, stretching 100 feet across, gave the audience a magical view of the underwater stage.

Rhoda smiled from the front row as a softshell turtle swam past. The curtains were only opened a few inches at the bottom, but it was enough to see the creature paddle by. She remembered helping the boat tour a few times and how terrible she was at remembering all the different plants and animals. That had been Paul’s area of expertise before he’d transitioned to shows with her.

The theatre was full, and she was glad she’d arrived early. When she performed, every seat was full 8 times a day, and she could hear the crowd from the surface before they jumped in with air hoses.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd hushed, excitement bubbling through them all as they waited.

The music began; a voice rang through the speakers to begin the story. “The Little Mermaid”. I was doing “Snow White” when I was here.

The curtains rose dramatically, revealing the aquarium stage. Shadowed in a blue tint schools of fish and turtles swam away as the mermaids appeared.

Rhoda couldn’t help but grin with delight as the sirens swam in unison, air hoses in hand, long hair dancing like seaweed in a current. She marveled as they circled each other and the statues that had rested in the sand for years. And when the sea witch emerged from the porthole, previously unnoticed by all, and screamed at the audience, Rhoda gasped audibly, genuinely frightened by her reveal.

When the show finished, she waited patiently as small children rushed to the windows to wave and talk to the mermaids, who smiled and twirled, occasionally diving below eye view for a puff of air from the hoses. Rhoda waited as parents took many photos before the majority of people moved out of the auditorium before she gingerly made her way up the steps to the window.

And then there she was, her reflection staring back at her. Her hair grey and short, the lines of many years creasing her skin. She held a hand to the glass and for a moment the wrinkles made her forlorn, but before she could wallow in them another hand pressed against the glass and aligned with her own, fingers to fingers. Her reflection was replaced with a fresh-faced mermaid, her blue tail hugging her legs tightly. She was smiling wide at Rhoda, her brown locks floating in front of her face. After a moment she swam backwards a little, her tail kicking, and she beckoned Rhoda with a cheeky finger curl, as if inviting in for a dip, before waving goodbye and swimming to the next waiting guest.

Rhoda remembered doing the same thing to people so long ago. She’d loved twirling for the children, making them laugh in delight as she somersaulted.

She kept her hand on the glass for a few seconds before walking away. She wiped a rogue tear from her cheek as she approached a smiling attendee who was ushering people to the doors in anticipation of the next round of guests who would soon fill the seats.

“Excuse me, does the gift store sell googles?” Rhoda asked.

“Yes ma’am it sure does, the store is right next to the Mermaid Galley Restaurant near the slides, do you know where that is?”

“Oh yes, thank you, I know exactly where that is.” and with that Rhoda walked on. She would get some lunch before buying her googles and heading back into the water.

And she made her way down the shaded path she was resolved to invite her children and grandchildren for a summer visit in the coming months; it was time to show them what she loved about her hometown and all the things they’d only ever heard about.

But first she needed a snack, and a milkshake and French fries would hit the spot, just like it always had.