We meet the siren before she was...

 

It had been years since Thalassa had sung, but the waves tugged the sound free from her heart and up through unfamiliar vocal chords for the wind to steal them away, carrying them out across the sea. Her voice was different than she remembered it; lower, more mellow now, but not sleepy or dull. It seemed that the vibration of it moved the world around her in a way that she could not explain, but it excited her aged heart.
She ended the last note with a soft laugh for the thought. She was not old, but her heart had known so much so soon. She had led a life concentrated; a life with all of the trials and upheavals piled one atop the other without a break in the storm or a lull in the troubled waters. She had often described it as a bad soap opera whose writers would shy away from nothing to draw in, enthrall, and shock their audience. Recently she noted that life had changed dramatically, and it seemed, without her even noticing. The way she lived her life was changing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had a nasty fight with her partner; jealousy and fear didn’t seem to factor into her reactions and attitudes toward him anymore, and when she did suspect that he wasn’t being entirely honest it didn’t seem to matter at all. When she could drag him away from his array of monitors in his home office she felt no difficulty in holding his attention as she used to; he might look away for a moment, but it was never more than a glance.  Another large change come recently was the absence of her children. The youngest, Nimue, hadn’t quite moved out yet; but Thalassa had converted part of the house into a suite of rooms for her with it’s own exterior door, and
Nimue had her own life now. No one felt left out or disappointed when Thalassa went somewhere alone anymore. Doing things for herself, by herself had felt awkward and wrong at first; as if she should be ashamed of herself for not finding something to do for others instead. But after 27 years begun with diapers and two hour feeding cycles and fevers and hospital visits, followed by getting only 4 hours of sleep every school night, bumbling through all of the possible opportunities and their respective deadlines and trying to ferret out the best pathway for them to take in order to succeed in establishing a good life for themselves, all the while trying to teach all of those things that schools can not, should not, or will not, Thalassa knew she had earned this. She should have been doing this all along. But they used to ask where she went, and Thalassa could not lie to those sweet little faces; then there would be the cloud of disappointment and guilt would gnaw at Thalassa’s insides until she made amends that she often couldn’t really afford – and it wasn’t always money that was over-spent. Thalassa had spent much of her children’s lives up to this point ingesting a steady stream of energy drinks and the like just to make it through the day without falling asleep every time she sat down. But the frantic life of a mother with children still dependent on her was quickly fading into a lovely collage of singularities of memory.
Her life now was more structured and predictable; even her spur of the moment dashes off to the beach seemed as if they had been planned and set up for her. This morning for example: She woke, hours before dawn and couldn’t get back to sleep. Xander, her partner, had worked through the night as was his custom and had recently crawled into bed and begun snoring; he wouldn’t be awake again until afternoon. Thalassa crept out of bed and showered and dressed in the guest suite (one of the older girls’ old bedrooms), and sat down to check the weather and her email. She never got around to that email. The weather would be warm and clear today. She knew she had nothing pressing on her schedule and she realized suddenly that she had the opportunity to catch the sunrise over the water and enjoy her morning coffee on the beach. She made a quick change of clothes, grabbed a couple of water bottles, shoved her laptop into her beach bag (which remained perpetually at the ready), grabbed her camera and was out the door before that silly little nagging voice in her head could wake up enough to stop her. She barely met another vehicle on the interstate and could have sworn she found her way through a wrinkle in space and time because it seemed like she suddenly woke up and there she was on the main beach road. Parking had been a trice, and there wasn’t another soul to be seen near the water. She had forgotten the coffee entirely, but it really didn’t matter. She was here for the blazing brilliance of the sunrise before her and the sound of the ocean like song from a dream.

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