1. Begin by making an incision at the anus. A large scalpel will do. The anus is located inferior to the anal fin, roughly two palms away from the humanoid/ichthyic seam. Since she is much bigger than a human woman, nearly twice in length and width, with a tough scaled hide, you might encounter resistance. Persevere.
2. Extend the incision below the rear fins and across the mermaid’s hips. Despite first appearances, the mermaid does not have a human’s vaginal cavity. It is a mistake to consider the mermaid a mammal; she is ectothermic, cold-blooded, of the taxon sarcopterygii that has evolved over eons to resemble a swimmer or a seal in order to attract prey such as sharks, killer whales, unwitting polar bears… and in recent times, humans. Much in the same way the flower of an ophrys apifera mimics a bee.
3. Don’t be fooled, however. You only have to look into her gaping jaws, those pointed teeth as unnerving as a shark’s, to see her for the predator she truly is.
4. Pass the incision anteriorly between the pelvic fins, used by the maid to slow her swimming. Cut on either side of them in a “V” to loosen them from the pelvic girdle and belly muscles. Lift and pin the fins up and away to reveal the body cavity and expose the internal organs: the liver, pyloric caeca, and adipose tissue. Be sure to wear a proper face mask. The stench of ammonia coupled with sour blood can be overwhelming.
5. Here is where you must be cautious. Tenderly pull out the pyloric caeca, the two finger-shaped pouches that serve as a second stomach, each roughly the size of a newborn. Deposit them in a surgical bucket. Be careful not to damage them, as you recover the evidence.
6. No. Now is not the time to hesitate. You owe her that.
7. Cut gently into these soft pouches; finger through the mess of enzymes and bile until you chance upon a piece of flesh, or two, or three–paler, softer, than their envelope. There, gently, that’s it: what you’re really after. It’s fine if you can’t say it yet.
8. Pull away the fatty tissue to expose the bladder, nested inside a pair each of ovaries and kidneys. Superior to these is your next target: the stomach. With the utmost care, slice it free and lift it into its own surgical bucket. Be mindful; it will have unbearable weight to it.
9. Slice the stomach sac to reveal an intricate net of hard cord, in tatters; and shards of plastic, perhaps once a bottle.
10. Pause, if you must. Don’t tremble.
11. Take a moment.
12. With your blue gloves, pull aside the net to reveal what time and acid have not yet secreted away. A hand… chewed off at the wrist. A popsicle ring, fastened to one finger. Its candy whittled away to a nub.
13. Don’t stop. Don’t stop until you find all of her inside. You owe her that.
14. The mangled lower leg. Its black shoe and buckle. The drenched sock, with zebras on them because they were her favorite.
15. It’s all you can find, and it all fits in a single, stainless steel pail.
16. The rest is up to you. If you must, grip the scalpel harder, take it to the mermaid’s useless breasts, to those wide, mocking hips. Shred them all to rags. Strip away any whiff of motherhood from her, this caricature of empty potential. Slash her throat that it may never sing lullabies; lacerate her mouth that it may never kiss temples goodnight. It’s what this monster deserves.
17. And those eyes. Those flat, barren gels give no hint of envy, even though you know she must’ve—dreamt of it, of bearing what only mammals can, a single, precious pearl. The evidence is here, after all. How long did she lurk beneath the kelp-ridden docks at the pier, waiting? How long did she lick her jagged teeth at the schoolchildren loitering there that day, picking one soul from the crowd, murmuring that one?
18. Well, she got what she wanted. What she mimicked, she became.
19. Welcome to the human world.
20. So yes, maul her. Mangle that awful pastiche. Split open those cheeks and bare those stained teeth so that no God, so that nobody else forgets what she is.
21. Only, take care not to linger in those eyes of hers. Even so distant from the shore, they still carry all the gray hopelessness of an ocean. Stare too long and they’ll get their hooks in you. Stare too long, and you might just catch a glimpse of your own mirrored self.
22. And what a self. What a stupid, useless self.
23. What a worthless thing you are.
24. What a gift you squandered.
25. You, who said she could go. You, who weren’t there.
26. Who mocked her once, taunting her from the waves, your toes bobbing in the surf; calling her a scaredy-cat, a weak-willed thing quivering on the sand. Not daughter enough to join you swimming in the ocean.
27. You, who weren’t at the pier that day to hear her friends laugh at her, see her tiny chin clench, that little black-toed foot inch toward the edge of the dock in an effort to prove them, you, everyone wrong.
28. What a model you are.
29. What a mother.
30. But. Not a mermaid, yet.
31. After all, you still have all your cavities, don’t you?
32. Begin by making an incision in your abdomen, a long line left to right directly below the navel. A fine scalpel will do. The surgery to never harm another child is simple.
33. And that searing pain, like someone tearing you open from the inside? Bear it. Bear it.
34. It’s what this monster deserves.
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Ⓒ Wailana Kalama
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