Little Mermaid Ch. 01

"I don't need them tonight," she said. "He doesn't have to."

"Ah well," her mother said. "He's on his way." Tim Bradlee had a car, a red sports thing, of course. It wouldn't take him long. Fear turned into frustrated anger.

"You shouldn't have!" she cried out. Her mother grinned.

"I see," she said. "I got the impression he likes you too." Ariel slammed down her tea, making it splash on the table. Jumping to her feet she said, "I'm out!" and turned around. Right then the doorbell rang. Of course, it would. Ariel ran up the stairs and into her room, locking the door. The grin left her mother's face.

"Ariel?" she called after her daughter. Then she shrugged and went to the front door. "Hello," she said to the blond boy with the cast around his leg. "Tim, I presume?" He smiled his big white teeth bare and showed her two books.

"Yes, I am," he said. "Nice to meet you. I brought her books, as I said on the phone. Is she in?" Ariel's mother accepted the books. Then she turned away, looking up the stairs.

"She is, more or less, I suppose," she said. "Do come in, please. Tea?"

***

From her bed, Ariel heard their voices, the high one of her mother's and the low rumble of Tim's. The words were mostly unintelligible, especially because of the pillow on her face. She ignored the first rap on her door, and her mother's questioning voice. After a second try, Ariel told her to go away. Then she heard the rattle of a key and the door opening.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled, jumping off the bed and trying to push the door closed again. Her hot face was close to her mother's. "Leave... me... alone," she repeated. The door clicked shut. Throwing herself face-down on her bed again, she waited for her heart to stop pounding. Her mind was in chaos; her panic too great to connect one thought to another. Why did he have to come here? Wasn't school enough of a stage for his humiliating games? How cruel did he want to be? At least here at home she'd be safe, she'd thought. No more, obviously.

Ten minutes passed before she noticed the house was quiet again, no voices to be heard anymore.

"He left," her mother said through the closed door. Ariel didn't answer; nor did she look up when the door opened. She felt the mattress of her bed move with the weight of a body. A hand rested on her back, slowly caressing. "I don't understand, darling," her mother said. "He seems nice." Ariel turned on her side, showing her tear-streaked face.

"He isn't," she said, her voice thick. "He just wants to make fun of me... and... and of how I look."

"Fun of how you look?" her mother said, irritating her with the lame repetition. Ariel said nothing. "But," her mother went on, pausing with confusion. "But you are beautiful, darling. Everybody says so. Tim just said so. He was very complimentary, you know. He likes you a lot."

"He doesn't," Ariel said. "It's all fake. Boys don't like girls like me." She rolled from under her mother's hand, crawled off the bed and walked over to her bathroom. Her mother tried to stop her.

"Ariel!" she cried out. "What do you mean? What's going on? 'Girls like you?'" Ariel pulled herself free.

"I need a shower," she said.

***

"Breasts?"

"Yes, mom," she answered. "Tits; boobs; a rack, okay? You got plenty yourself. Look: nice round tits and a fat ass, hips... curves, you know? Currrvesss." The shower had calmed Ariel down, and then it had slowly made her furious. Furious about the whole charade; the hypocritical conspiracy. Everybody knew what was going on, but it was so much more fun to keep her in the dark, wasn't it? Tell her she's beautiful; make her believe it and then drop her like the ugly bag of bones she really is. She was the laughing stick. Sitting across from her mother again, her hair still damp, and smelling of shampoo, she felt the trembling anger in her body. Anger at the woman in front of her, at anyone she knew, at the whole damn world. Why hadn't her mother prepared her for a life like this? Why did she have to find it out all by herself; walking into the trap as an ignorant teenager, thinking people liked her. Being ridiculed and humiliated. She was beautiful, the bitch said. Oh, some people might agree with her. She'd seen flat sticks like herself strut on catwalks and prance in front of cameras, but they were fashion models for women, selected by faggot designers because they were excellent clothes hangers. Did you ever see them in men's magazines, the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated? Did you ever see a broomstick like her getting fucked on a porn site?

"You mean," her mother said after a pause, "you mean, seriously, that men avoid you because you don't have bigger breasts?" The woman's eyes were wide with disbelief; she's still selling the lie, Ariel thought.

"No, mom," she said, stretching her words with fake patience. "This is not about me not having bigger tits. They avoid me because I don't have tits at all. No tits, no ass, nothing. Look at me!" She stretched her T-shirt over her chest, making her nipples press into it. "Two fucking raisins on a plate!" Her mother's mouth tightened, no doubt because of the 'language'. Who fucking cared about the fucking language? A sudden gush of tears sprang from Ariel's eyes.

"Oh God," her mother said, rising and walking over. "Oh God, honey, you are serious. Oh, I'm so sorry." And she put her arms around the crying girl. "But it isn't true," she went on, pushing her face closer to capture Ariel's eyes. "It really isn't, believe me. Everybody loves you. All the girls envy you. The young man who was here..." Ariel pulled herself free from her mother and rose to her feet, making the chair tumble.

"Stop lying!" she cried out. "Everybody. Stop. Lying!" Her mother's eyes opened wide and her mouth moved, but there was no sound. She just stood, while her hands touched the air in front of her.

"But...," she said. Ariel wanted to run away, but she had no idea where. She wanted all this to stop, but it wouldn't, would it? Everybody lied to her, except her mirror. Her reflection was her only true companion. A sense of utter loneliness overwhelmed her. Frozen as she was, she couldn't stop her mother hugging her. She cried, feeling two soft pillows pressing into her.

"Honey," her mother finally said, reaching out to wipe tears from her daughter's face. "You need help, and I can't help you. You need to see someone." Ariel tried to get free.

"I'm not crazy," she said.

"Of course you're not." Her mother's voice was hoarse. "But you just need to talk to someone; get it off your..." She stopped, realizing what she was about to say. They both looked at each other, wide-eyed. Then Ariel started to chuckle. They both couldn't help laughing hysterically, as tears ran down their cheeks.