DEPTHS, SHADOW, AND DAWN

It was without hatred that I fell to my death. Barnacles adorning the ship’s hull skimmed my breath as I plummeted through the darkness. I looked up and saw the moon, fractured and rippled, dancing across inky black waves that ended my fall in muted thunder. I was drummed by the impact—aware, but paralysed. Even if I remembered how to swim, bearing and gravity had been swept away, leaving me aimless in the briny dark. My heavy dress and corset fashioned me as an anchor, sinking into the deep without struggle.

Yet, I did not hate Nathaniel, whose hand struck me overboard, for he was blameless. When returning to our bunk to escape the storm, I had decided to hold his arm unannounced—a folly bid at wifedom. It had been so long since my last unprompted touch that I had forgotten his condition. Trauma had scarred his mind, causing him to involuntarily lash when affected unawares. The spine of his hand cracked against my cheek and tumbled me over the ship’s railing. He called my name as I slipped into the night.

I was weightless in the dark, with no breath to hold. Above the waves the chaos of the storm churned, but below everything was calm. Death moments away, a memory I thought lost rose to meet me.

‘It’s only practice,’ Helen had told me. We faced each other cross-legged on undergrowth, indifferent to the dirtying of our school uniforms. Her lips parted like the softest orchid blooming, revealing a breath of lemon nectar. The goosebumps on the back of my neck were comforted by her palm. She leaned in, so close.

I told her to stop and pushed her away. I had never wanted anything more than her lips before, but I feigned disgust. I never allowed myself to be alone with her again. Only on the edge of death did I ask myself why I rejected her.

When I had first fallen into the water, I felt its icy grip across every inch of me, but in that stillness the cold left me. Instead, I was warm, almost glowing. It was then that she emerged from the void ahead—the mermaid. I heard stories about them when I was a girl, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight. Her hair was a luscious river, and her eyes were vibrant gems, sparkling as brilliantly as her tail’s ruby scales. I was sure nothing else could be as beautiful as her.

I remembered feeling that way before. When starting part-time at the garment factory, I knew no one. Lisa was the first to introduce herself. She was kind and generous, but most of all, she was beautiful. I did not know someone so lovely could exist. The nights when I performed my duty with Nathaniel, I found myself picturing her in my place. At the time, I had believed it a symptom of my fading self-value, visualising a worthy wife for my husband. But in the deep, the truth was plain. I simply ached for the sounds she would make.

One by one, more mermaids emerged, schooling around me like mourners around a loved one. Every hue of flowing locks was unique, claiming their own domain across the rainbow. Each as heavenly and bewitching as the last—so beautiful I was sure tears would have streamed down my cheeks if I were not submerged.

What I had always desired became so obvious to me then. It was not just young Helen with her orchid lips. It was not just sweet Lisa with her kind words. It was not just the graceful mermaid with her emerald hair. It was women.

With the thought came a demon—a shadow that lurked within me, keeping me blind since I was a girl. I could not be what I was. It was known that homosexual women hated men. I have never hated men, not even Nathaniel when he struck me overboard. Moreover, it was known that lust for the same sex was a symptom of sexual inversion, but I did not pine to be male. I was a woman inside, and sure of it. Then, the final jagged splinter stabbed into me—how it was unamerican. I loved my country. Not a sliver of me was unpatriotic. None of it pieced together. I simply could not be what was apparent. I had to have been mistaken.

The emerald-haired mermaid approached, so close I could see my drowning reflection in her eyes. She took my head in her hands and drew my face to hers. In an eternal moment, she pressed her lips to mine, and suddenly, life.

Oxygen filled my lungs, snatching me from the brink of death. More than this, her breath became a gale that swept away my shadow, for it was lost in that kiss that I understood, none of it mattered. Each diagnosis presented to me—male hatred, sexual inversion, unpatriotism—none of it stood up to the overwhelming truth that blossomed within me. I love women, I have always loved women, and I will love women until the day I die. It is who I am, and it is not a symptom.

My life was saved by the mermaids. They each kissed me and gave me breath, until they had safely ushered me to the coast. I swept onto the sands of a foreign shore, weak and sodden, but present in a way I had never been before. The waves revealed me to the world, my curtains drawn back and the light of my dawn spilling forth. I was born anew, for someone—the wife of Nathaniel—fell into the ocean that night, ready to die. But there I stood, emerged from the chaos of the storm within my heart, finally ready to live.

The End

If you would like to know more about the inspirations and influences for this story, please visit the version on Tom Hollow's website (see below). There is an extensive author's where he discusses the cultural landscape for homosexuals in early 20th century USA, and delves deeper into the misconceptions of the time, along with sources of information.

https://www.tomhollow.co.uk/writings/depths-shadow-and-dawn