Ab aeterno

The summer was far from the idyllic pictures the books liked to paint. The occasional rains scattered from the cloudy sky that looked all grey and washed out. It was chilly in the old building where the orphanage kids were to stay during the brief moments of luxurious treatment they received — the summer outings to the countryside. Tom had his tiny bedroom back at the orphanage, but during these trips, he had to sleep with others in the common room. He hated that part. Children were mumbling in their sleep, they were turning and moving on the beds, making the old wooden bedsteads creak. Someone was actually gently snoring… the cacophony of these human sounds was so annoying that Tom couldn’t sleep properly. He had nothing against mice in the walls or branches of the old tree brushing against the house because these were sounds of nature. It was humans he despised.

***

Dennis Bishop was loud and meddling, the kind of boy everybody seemed to like for some reason that was beyond Tom’s understanding. Dennis was a year older than he, too, and that really mattered. He had that most annoying habit of telling “you’ll get it once you’re older” to each and every one, and his favorite game was hide-and-seek. The odd thing was that Dennis liked to seek, and, to be fair, he did it really well, no cheating. He boasted that he would become a real detective when he grew up. Tom knew all of that because it was impossible not to know everything about Dennis Bishop. That annoying kid made it, it seemed, his life mission to share his ideas and thoughts with everyone around him, with no regard to whether people wanted that knowledge or not. “Whatcha doing, Tom?” Dennis plopped down next to him on an old couch, and Tom moved away to leave enough space between them. He didn’t like being touched. “I am reading.” “Whatcha reading, Tom?” Tom squinted. Dennis knew perfectly well that he didn’t like it when people called him by his name, and he still kept doing that. “Just a book I found…” “Are there any pictures?” “No.” “Well I’ll be damned!” Dennis quickly looked behind his shoulder to check that no adults could hear that. His “I’ll be damned!” was another thing that irritated Tom, it was a phrase Dennis used all the time. It’s cloudy today — I’ll be damned! The porridge was cold — I’ll be damned! Amy Benson is playing house with Helen Taylor — I’ll be damned! Mrs. Cole scolded the new boy — well, I’ll be damned! Tom actually wished that Dennis would be damned for real, once and for all, so that he would shut up. “Let’s go and play hide-and-seek… We kind of need more people to make it really interesting.” “I’d rather stay here and read,” Tom returned to his book. There were reasons he didn’t want to play hide-and-seek with Dennis. He didn’t like playing in general, it all seemed like a total waste of time: to do something you don’t enjoy to make others happy. Dennis was annoying, to put it mildly, and he always, always had to win. Also, Tom didn’t really enjoy the idea of hiding from someone. It was the problem with hide-and-seek. If you don’t like hiding, you won’t enjoy the game. If you are not interested in searching for someone, you won’t enjoy the game.

***

Little Amy Benson wasn’t that little; she was the same age Tom was, but physically, she was very frail. Mrs. Cole called that “delicate” and insisted that it was a proper quality of a lady. Tom didn’t think Amy had any chance of becoming a lady; she was an orphan and too old already to be adopted by a wealthy family. Everybody called her little Amy except for Tom, who didn’t mention her name so often to get this habit. She was also obsessed with playing house. Sometimes she would ask Tom to play house with her, and he would always say no. He did not like games for children and pretending to be a family. Maybe little Amy Benson was so obsessed with this game because she had once had a family. Then the fire happened when she was around five, and there was no family left. When Tom got bored late at night and let his mind wander, he sometimes could taste her dreams about her family, vague and getting dimmer and dimmer as time passed by. She wanted to play house so much because she wanted to remember what it was like to have a family for as long as it was possible. Also, she fancied Tom because Tom was the most good-looking boy in the orphanage and in the whole world… at least, according to her thoughts, which sometimes were so easy to understand that it wasn’t even slightly amusing. “What are you reading about, Tom?” she looked at him shyly and, after a moment of hesitation, sat next to him. Tom shrugged and turned the page. “It’s a story about a fisherman and a mermaid.” “Oh! A mermaid!” Her eyes got brighter with excitement. “Tell me!” Tom looked at her, his eyes cold and unfriendly. “I mean, please? Could you tell me, please?” That was better. Tom hated it when people told him what to do. There were so many people who did that, those grown-ups, that he wouldn’t allow a girl to do the same. Luckily, Amy wasn’t as thick as a log and knew when to say her “pleases”. “This is a story about a young fisherman who one day caught a mermaid in his nets…” “Was she pretty?” Tom turned the pages back, without answering, found the place in the very beginning, and read aloud: “Her hair was as a wet fleece of gold, and each separate hair as a thread of line gold in a cup of glass. Her body was as white ivory, and her tail was of silver and pearl. Silver and pearl was her tail, and the green weeds of the sea coiled round it…” he read aloud, and his voice was quiet and melodic, oddly adult for a boy of his age. Little Amy moved closer to better hear him, and touched her own hair as if trying to imagine how that would feel if her hair was like threads of line gold. “Please, Tom, go on… no one can read the way you can.” Amy lowered her voice, and her cheeks turned rosy. “Alright,” Tom didn’t want to start over with the story, but Amy had said the right words. She praised him and, what was most important of all, she truly believed that. So he continued reading. “… and like sea-shells were her ears, and her lips were like sea-coral. The cold waves dashed over her cold breasts, and the salt glistened upon her eyelids.” When he said “breasts”, Amy turned red but didn’t say a word. This book wasn’t like any fairy tales she had ever heard before. This book was like something grown-ups would read… exciting and forbidden. “So beautiful was she that when the young Fisherman saw her he was filled with wonder, and he put out his hand and drew the net close to him, and leaning over the side he clasped her in his arms…” Tom stopped reading and looked at Amy. “I bet she was cold. And wet after the sea.” “And beautiful.” “That’s what the book says, at least.” “And… what happened next? Did they live happily ever after?” “Not really, I don’t think so.” “What were her eyes like?” Tom looked at his book again. “It says her eyes were mauve-amethyst.” Amy looked puzzled. “What’s that like?” “Well, amethyst is like purple, but it comes in many varieties. Amethyst is dark. But mauve is lighter… paler. Like… something between pink and violet, I suppose?” “Oh… you are smart, Tom,” Amy said, and she meant that too. “I didn’t know the word…” “Mauve-amethyst… I suppose it would look like the sky just before sunset, very light violet with pinkish undertones.” Amy tried to imagine and could not. Then she asked: “What are my eyes like, Tom?” Tom looked at her, and Amy suddenly felt dizzy. She loved Tom’s eyes; they were cold and beautiful, and looking in them was like looking at a summer night outside the city. They were dark, those eyes, but Amy was sure that if she looked long enough, she would see stars. “They are blue but very pale blue.” “Not mauve or amethyst…” “No. Blue like puddles in winter.” For one terrible moment, her heart was about to burst with despair, and then Tom added: “When the puddles get frosty and shiny with ice.” “Oh,” little Amy Benson said and blushed. And then she asked in a voice as little as she was. “Could you read me more? Please…”

***

“… and the little Mermaid rose up to meet him, and put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.” “Whatcha you reading?” Amy jumped in surprise and looked at Dennis with a very strange expression as if she was caught doing something bad. Tom simply looked at him with no expression at all. “A fairy tale.” “With kissing and necking? What’s that called?” “Stop that, Dennis!” Amy pouted and looked at him indignantly. “Tom was reading a beautiful love story!” “Is that it?” Dennis smirked and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Are you a poet or something, Tom? Reading love stories like a girl?” Tom said nothing and closed the book. “So, what’s the book called, Tom?” “It’s called 'The Fisherman and his Soul”, quietly replied Tom, and if Dennis wasn’t as thick as a log or if, at least, Dennis wasn’t over his heels about little Amy Benson, he would have stopped right at that moment. Because the quiet in Tom’s voice was dangerous. “By Oscar Wilde.” “It’s beautiful!” said Amy passionately. “Really beautiful!” “Oh, I know about that one. Oscar Wilde.” “Do you?” the girl looked at Dennis with surprise. He wasn’t the one to read a lot. “Yeah. He was a Nancy,” Dennis was gloating now, his smile cruel and full of contempt. “A Nancy?” “Yeah. A queer!” Dennis was laughing now. “Tom’s reading a queer book!” “Shut up, Dennis,” said Tom and stood up. “Oh, are you offended? It’s the truth, though…” “Stop that! You ruined it!” Little Amy was so upset she was about to cry. She rushed out of the room, leaving the two boys alone. “Look what you did with your queer book…” “You are an arsehole, Dennis,” calmly replied Tom and went to the door when Dennis laughed and spit into his back: “Nancy Marvolo Riddle!”

***

“There are no such things as mermaids,” Dennis Bishop repeated yet once again, but he was walking behind Tom Riddle and Amy Benson along the coast. The sea was grey and still. “You don’t have to go with us!” said Amy sharply. “If you don’t believe Tom, you may just as well turn back!” “Oh, I don’t believe Tom, alright. Just like I won’t believe anyone who’d say he’d seen a mermaid, Amy. You are not stupid, are you?” “You know who is stupid, Dennis?” Tom’s voice was pleasant and calm. “Who?” “The one who says the girl he likes is stupid.” “What did you say?!” Dennis blushed suddenly, his ears hot and red. He even clenched his fists, but Tom didn’t see that because he was leading the way. Amy looked at Dennis, blushed too, and smiled that small smile of hers that made Dennis do stupid things all the time. “Let’s go while the tide is low,” Tom said, and went into the cave. Inside the cave it was much colder. Some of the rocks uncovered by the low tide were damp and greenish with seaweed. Small crabs were crawling on them, they looked like spiders lurking in green cobwebs. It smelled of copper and salt, and the sun shining outside didn’t reach the wet darkness in the farther corners of the cave. There were no sounds but the quiet splashing of the small waves. “Well, I’ll be damned if anything lives here but bats!” Dennis put up a brave face for Amy, who turned quiet once they had stepped inside the cave. “Well, maybe you already are, Dennis,” replied Tom and turned to face them both. He was smiling, and that was a beautiful smile that strangely didn’t make it to his eyes. Amy stepped closer to Dennis. She liked Tom, she liked him a lot, even though other kids whispered that Tom Riddle was a strange bloke. He was handsome and mysterious, and his voice had that magical effect she never mentioned anyone about — when he told stories with his magical voice, it was like watching the events unfold in front of you. She didn’t like his smile, though. Amy didn’t know why she felt that way, but when Tom smiled like he was smiling now, she always felt something somewhere and somehow was about to go wrong. “Bullshit,” Dennis sniffed and felt better using the word. “You are nothing but a liar, Tom. Show us your mermaid or admit that you are full of shit.” “She is there,” Tom pointed and added. “But you have to call for her…” “What’s her name?” Amy looked at him. “I bet it’s something wonderful…” “Mermaids don’t have names. They can’t hear very well, they live underwater,” Tom shrugged as if it was very well-known information. “You need to slap your hand three times on the water there, you see? Then she will hear you and come to the surface.” “Yeah. Right,” Dennis smiled that smile of his, you-are-a-liar, and marched to the small pool a little bit further. “May I look as well, Tom?” “It’s up to you.” Tom didn’t move, and for a moment, Amy wanted to take his hand and pull him so that they could see the mermaid together, but then she decided against that. She wanted to hold his hand, yes, but she wanted to see the mermaid more than that. Little Amy Benson ran towards Dennis Bishop, who was leaning closer to the dark water of the pool.

***

“So what exactly happened?” Mrs. Cole glared at Tom, but he didn’t seem to be afraid of her. He was respectful and polite, and he was lying to her; she could tell that much. “We were exploring the cave,” Tom answered yet again politely and readily, the perfect boy who has nothing to hide. “Amy, Dennis, and I. It was low tide, so it was perfectly safe.” “Not so safe after all, it seems.” Tom said nothing to that remark. “Well, go on. Tell me everything.” “There is not much to tell, madam,” Tom smiled vaguely. “We were watching the crabs when Dennis slipped on the rock and fell in the water.” “Did he?” “Yes. I think he got distracted… by the crabs, probably.” “What happened next? Amy?” Little Amy Benson was paler than ever. Her eyes were wide and wet, and she didn’t look at Mrs. Cole. “Dennis went underwater. And Tom pulled him out…” “And what were you doing?” “Nothing… I just stood there. I couldn’t move… it was so scary…” “Did you pull Dennis out of the water, Tom?” “Yes, madam.” “Alright. I forbid you from going to that cave again. All of you. Is that clear?” “Yes, madam.” “Go now, Tom. Amy… you stay here for a moment.” Tom left without a single word. He didn’t even look at little Amy Benson, and Mrs.Cole was watching for that like a hawk. Because she didn’t believe the story at all. “Amy…” she said when Tom’s footsteps grew distant. “Is that true?” Little Amy Benson looked at Mrs.Cole, and her eyes were filled with terror. She said nothing. “Dennis is terrified. And I very much doubt that he is so scared only because he fell in the water. So I will ask again. What happened in the cave?” the woman looked at Amy and added gently. “I won’t punish you for telling the truth… I need to know what happened… so that it won’t happen again.” Amy was silent. “Did Dennis fall in the water? Or was he pushed, Amy?” Mrs.Cole spoke as quietly as if someone was spying behind the closed door. “Did Tom push him in the water?” “No, madam. Tom didn’t push Dennis.” “Are you sure?” Amy nodded, and her lips trembled. “He was far away from both of us… standing there. Next to the entrance to the cave.”

***

Tom tried to fall asleep and couldn’t. Somebody was talking quietly, whispering about Dennis, who was now downstairs. A doctor came to check on him and gave him some medicine that put Dennis to sleep. Because after Dennis Bishop fell in the water, almost drowning, he couldn’t stop crying. That thing in the cave wasn’t the type of mermaid Oscar Wilde wrote about. Its hair wasn’t a wet fleece of gold or anything, and its eyes weren’t mauve-amethyst. It didn’t have a fish tail but it was covered in seaweed, and its clothes were torn and faded. The thing in the cave was a corpse Tom discovered during one of his solitary walks at the coast. At first, he was disgusted and terrified, and wanted to run away. It was a dead woman, her hair was long, and the crabs were running along her thin shoulders as if she were some sort of a kid’s slide. She — it — smelled terribly, of sea and rot, and Tom felt like he’d vomit… he didn’t. And then Tom thought that his mother had died and turned into something similar to this bag of bones and rotten flesh, and he felt disgusted, and he felt angry… and he felt hurt. He closed his eyes, trying to get rid of the emotions too complicated for him to grasp, trying to control his breathing… and when Tom Riddle opened his eyes, the corpse was looking at him, and she had no lips left. It looked like she was grinning. And she was grinning again in the cave when Dennis Bishop started slapping on the water with his hand to prove that Tom had lied to both of them. Dennis slipped on the wet rocks when he tried to get away from that terrible decomposing mermaid that appeared from the water. Her bony fingers clasped on his wrist, and she pulled him closer… and gave him all the saltwater kisses she wanted with that horrible mouth of hers that had no lips. The kids were whispering, and Tom angrily asked aloud: “Could you shut up? I am trying to sleep!” Silence followed. Tom smiled and finally went to sleep.