The great surrender

Photo: Nsey Benajah

A beautiful black albino woman with a bloodstained white t-shirt, a leather jacket pulled over her head, and a swollen and bruised face limps to the side of the road where she, fatigued and every inch of her body throbbing with pain, collapses to the ground. She covers her face with her leather jacket while she waits for a good Samaritan to come her way. A gentle prod on her leg rouses her from her semi-consciousness.

“Sisi, Uright?” an unfamiliar voice calls out to her.

She pulls her jacket down from over her face and looks up at several other faces looking down at her with quizzical expressions. She tries to sit up but falls back down as the pain tears through her. A man from the group offers to pull her up, and she struggles to plant both feet firmly on the ground. The man leads her to a taxi and helps her get inside. He then hands her leather jacket over to her; she accepts it gratefully before putting it on. Her fellow passengers gawk at her, some with open disdain and others with amused curiosity, as she anxiously sinks back into her seat.

“Udinga uk’bona udokotela?” the driver asks, after stealing several glances at her in the rear-view mirror.

“No.”

“Uyaphi?”

She clears her throat, “Waterfall Lounge, in town.”

The driver nods in response and then turns his attention back to the road, leaving her to deal with the intrusive stares and whispers of her fellow commuters.

* 

Safely inside her sparsely decorated apartment, Taylor makes a beeline for the couch, but her legs falter mid-stride causing her to fall to the ground unconscious. Several hours later, she wakes up to darkness and blurry vision that clears after a couple of blinks. Taylor gets up slowly; not trusting her legs to carry her, she crawls to the bathroom and undresses with difficulty before stepping into the shower. After her shower, Taylor walks out of the bathroom naked, gets under her covers, and curls her body into a fetal position. The recollection of how she walked into the bar the night before, intent on not leaving it alive, and the actions that followed that intention, flood her mind.  Disappointed and with shame gnawing at her, Taylor cries herself to sleep.

She dreams of the sea, blue, depthless, and vast, its large waves crashing into rocks. Mesmerised by its majestic beauty, she's seized by a burning restlessness that can only be quelled by her complete surrender to it and the secret hidden within the unexplored parts of herself.  She wakes up from the dream filled with a deep sense of peace that weighs on her heavily. Taylor pulls back the bedcovers and puts on a pair of panties, an oversized T-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants before making her way to the kitchen. She rummages inside the cupboards for something to drink. Finding only empty bottles, Taylor curses loudly and then walks to the living room where she throws herself onto the couch.

Taylor thinks of Gwendoline. How can she expect Gwen to be with her or accept what she is? She thinks of Mary, her mother, or should she say creator, and it ignites her fury. Who did she think she was, bending the laws of nature and playing God? Am I even worthy of life, or am I a scientific abomination that someone needs to destroy? Taylor wonders grimly to herself. She contemplates calling Gwen, and finally, after throwing the idea back and forth in her mind, decides to go through with it. Gwen picks up on the third ring.

“Hello.”

Taylor shuts her eyes and tries to remember the feel of Gwen in her arms, and her body lights up with longing.

“Tay, is that you?”

Taylor is brought back to reality, and she quickly disengages the call before tossing it onto the other end of the couch. She rises from her seat to pace the room, and feeling like a stiff drink would help steady her chaotic nerves, she makes her way over to the kitchen counter to grab her car keys but is stopped dead in her tracks by the sudden shifting of the ground beneath her, and caught off guard, she falls face down onto the floor.

Regaining consciousness a few hours later, Taylor pulls herself up and walks around her apartment in a daze. Winding up in her bedroom, she catches her reflection in the mirror and realises that a part of her face has scaled and raises a hand to touch the skin. Taylor steps away from the mirror in shock and then looks down at her left hand in terror. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she tentatively touches the webbed flesh between her fingers, and overwhelmed by a sudden urge to vomit, she rushes to the bathroom and hurls loudly into the toilet. Over the worst, she gets up, flushes the toilet, and goes back to her bedroom, where she grabs her phone and dials a number. The phone rings, but there is no answer. She calls three more times before someone finally picks up.

“Hello.”

“May I please speak to Boniswa.”

“Speaking.”

“Hi Bonny, it’s Taylor.”

“Oh my God, Tay, where have you been? We've been so worried about you. We thought you were dead.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. I just needed to get away and be by myself after—” Taylor trails off. “Well, you know.”

“I know. Tay?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m not so sure that’s true. I mean I could have done or said something to make her stop.”

“Yeah, well, there's no use beating yourself up about it.”

“I guess, but still—”

“Just let it go," interjects Taylor. "Besides, that isn’t the reason why I called; something has happened, and I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t something we can talk about over the phone. Will it be possible for me to come and see you?”

“Sure when?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Okay, just let me know when and I’ll arrange my schedule to fit you in.”

“All right, I’ll text you the details once I have sorted everything out on my side.”

“Sounds good to me. See you soon”.

“Oh, and Bonny.”

“Yes?”

“Promise me that you won’t tell Gwen I called.” There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Bonny, please, promise me,” pleads Taylor.

 “Okay, I promise I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“Tay, it was nice—”

Taylor ends the call.

 *

In her car parked outside the research laboratory building, Taylor stares into the dark liquid of the rest stop coffee she bought as if she were expecting a miracle to emerge from it. She’s startled back to her senses by Bonny who enters the car and engulfs her in a big hug. After getting over the initial wave of shock, Taylor embraces her back awkwardly. Bonny pulls back from the embrace to look at Taylor who shrinks away from her and covers her face.

“Okay, you can stop looking at me now,” says Taylor.

"Sorry, Tay, it's been five years. I’ve missed you. We both have.”

"Yeah," responds Taylor, at a loss for words and pulling shyly at her mittens.

“Why are you dressed like an Eskimo rapper?”

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

"What's going on, Tay?"

"I was hoping you would tell me or rather confirm or allay my worst fears.”

“Okay.”

Taylor removes her cap and mittens. Startled, Bonny gapes at Taylor. “My feet too.” Taylor grins ruefully, “Your face right now is the exact mirror of what I have been feeling ever since this first started happening to me."

“I don’t know what to say.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be. That’s impossible.”

“I was hoping you would be able to run some tests?”

“Yes, of course." Bonnie swabs the inside of Taylor’s cheek with a cotton swab and places the DNA sample in a small paper bag. “When did this start happening?”

“About two weeks ago."

“I see.  I’ll let you know as soon as I have the results.” Says Bonny.

“Thank you.”

Bonny gives Taylor a sad smile before leaving the car and disappearing into the building.

 *

“She thinks of Mary, her mother, or should she say creator, and it ignites her fury. Who did she think she was, bending the laws of nature and playing God? ”

 Bonny walks over to Taylor and taps her lightly on the shoulder. Taylor rises from her chair and turns around to face her, “So?” she asks. Bonny averts her eyes to the floor. “Just tell me," demands Taylor irritably.

"I'm sorry, Tay.”

“You’re sorry?” snaps Taylor.

Bonny stifles a sob, and Taylor plops herself down in her chair. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't mean to snap at you; it's not your fault.”

“It’s my fault too. Although I knew that what we were doing was wrong, I encouraged it;  I couldn’t bear the thought of not going through with the experiment because a small part of me wanted the fame and fortune too," responds Bonny before breaking down into uncontrollable sobbing.

Stunned by Bonny’s confession, Taylor takes a moment to compose herself before pulling her into an embrace, “So, this is happening," says Taylor to herself.

Sniffling loudly, Bonny pulls out of Taylor’s embrace to look at her sheepishly. "I'm so sorry."

 “What’s going to happen to me, will I die? And if I don’t, will I even remember who I am?”

“I can’t say for sure what will happen to you; I wish I could, but I honestly don't know. I don't think that even if Mary were here, she would have been able to answer those questions herself.” Bonny sighs. “Thing is Tay, we never intended to see the pregnancy to full term; we believed that the hybrid, I mean you, would show significant results during the first trimester. But when we realised that you were developing like any other baby, we were partially relieved and hoped that it would stay that way.”

“Only partially? Let me guess you were also disappointed with that result.”

Bonny looks away from Taylor.

“And how do you feel now that you know that the experiment was a success?”

"Awful," says Bonny.

“Good.”

"I'm sorry, Tay."

"Don't be, it won't change a thing. Tell me, who are my real parents?”

 "I'm your mother, and your father is an anonymous sperm donor."

“Wow.”

“I was young, and Mary offered to raise you. I wish I could take it all back.”

“Well, you can’t.”

"I know, but it makes sense now, your albinism. Neither one of us was a carrier of the gene, so Mary and I just assumed that it was one of those things. But I see now that what we were looking for was right under our noses this entire time."

“I don’t understand.”

“The pale and pinkish skin and your sensitivity to the light and the sun. I don't know why we didn't see it." Bonny stares at a perplexed Taylor as if seeing her for the first time. She takes a step towards Taylor and cups her face. "You've been right in front of us the whole time, and we failed to see the subtle signs because we were expecting to see something bigger."

Disconcerted, Taylor steps back and clears her throat. “I don’t think I ever want to see you again.”

A tense silence hangs in the air between them. “Sure,” Bonny says with a tight smile. “So, I guess this is goodbye forever.”

“Yeah,” says Taylor before leaving.

* 

Taylor stands in front of the large, solid oakwood door. She strains her ears to pick up the faint sounds of a grand piano playing Claude Debussy’s Claire De Lune, and a mixture of anxiety and longing fills her senses. Taylor quietly opens the unlocked door and follows the music to the living room. She watches with reverence, as Gwen, her shoulder-length blonde hair tied up in a loose bun, dressed in a cold shoulder top and denim cut off shorts and her back to her, embodies the music streaming from her fingers and pouring out into the piano. Sensing the presence of someone else in the room with her, Gwen stops playing and spins around to face the other person. Gwen is the first to make a move and rises from her seat to walk gingerly towards Taylor. She reaches out to touch Taylor's face before pulling her into a tight embrace. They remain locked in each other's arms for some time, letting their bodies communicate their mutual grief of the last five years. Gwen takes Taylor's mitten covered hand and leads her to a settee.

“Why did you leave?” asks Gwen, her voice cracking with emotion.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

"Try me. You owe me that much."

“You’re right, I do.” Taylor gets up from her seat and walks to the middle of the room. Her back to Gwen, she thrusts her hands deep into the front pockets of her jean. “I’m a mermaid.”

Gwen scoffs incredulously, “A mermaid? You’re messing with me, right?”

Taylor turns to face Gwen, "I wish that I was."

"But that's not possible, mermaids don't exist except in fairy tales and myths."

“That’s what I used to think too.”

"I don't understand how this is even possible."

“Mary found a mermaid washed up on the beach, and in an attempt to revive her tattered reputation, she created me."

“Created you?”

“Yes, I’m a hybrid, a cross between ancient and modern humans. She and Bonny wanted to see how the genetic materials of modern humans and their primal aquatic ancestors would interact by artificially conceiving me and splicing my DNA with that of the mermaid. I was just their potential ticket to glory, and in the end, they kept me only because I didn’t meet their expectations.”  

“Taylor, you’re scaring me.”

"Gwen, my body is changing, and I don't know what that means for me."

“How’s your body changing?”

Taylor slowly takes off her clothes and, horror-struck Gwen gasps.

"I don't expect you to accept me or even understand. I just wanted you to know that I didn't leave because of you," Taylor says, as she gathers all of her clothes from the floor and puts them back on.

Gwen gets up and walks over to Taylor. “Please don't leave." Taylor's eyes well up with fresh tears, and Gwen takes one of Taylor's webbed hands in her own. "I'll sell this house and buy another one and have a big aquarium built into it, and to be honest, I've always wanted a pet fish. Maybe this is the universe's warped way of making up for all those fishless years."

They both laugh a little at this. "Hey, I mean it, you don't have to go through this alone, I love you, and nothing could ever change that."

"I love you too," responds Taylor, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Gwen leans in and their lips cling to each other in a passionate kiss.

* 

Taylor opens her eyes to the feeling of being thoroughly loved. She gets out of bed and quietly puts on her clothes. She lingers in the doorway to watch Gwen sleeping before gently closing the door behind her. Piece of paper and pen in hand, Taylor sits down at the dining room table to write.

Dear Ever fishless

I don't know what to say, so I will only say what needs to be said.

Gwen, I was yours in every moment that was full of you, and I will be yours in every moment that is void of you.

T.

Taylor gets up from the table and leaves the note on the grand piano and then walks into every room in the house, visualising memories made inside each one of them and encapsulating them in her heart. She goes to the front door and then turns to take one last long look at the house, and satisfied, she leaves. At the empty beach, Taylor walks towards the sea, leaving a trail of clothing behind her. At the seashore, a naked Taylor stares beyond the blue, depthless, and vast sea before her and its powerful waves crashing into rocks. Resigned to her fate and with courage matching the sea’s ferocity, Taylor walks into Poseidon’s arms.

 *

A grief-stricken Gwen, unable to accept Taylor's absence, abandons her own life. She lives near the sea to feel closer to Taylor, drives Taylor's old battered car, wears Taylor's clothes, and frequents Taylor's old haunts. When she's barely getting through life, she's drinking herself into a stupor to Claude Debussy's Clair de lune and falling asleep on the beach. One evening, while lying on the beach, and huddled up in a duvet with only a bottle of wine for company, suddenly emerging from the sea’s depths, Gwen sees what appears to be a sea creature with the likeness of Taylor. The creature beckons to her with its steely-eyed glare and led by her desire to be reunited with her love once more, Gwen answers the siren's call and heads into the sea where she disappears forever. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Liatile Machoane Mokhesi is a South African-based writer, late bloomer, and lone wanderer on a narrow and thorny path towards eluding the dangers of becoming an author manqué.