Daughter

By Tanishka Sharma

She had lived two lives. There was a sea once, and then a man, Elijah, lifting her from her mother’s arms. Her hand had been small in his. Today, it was larger, marred with circular burns. Once a spry, salubrious selkie, she was transformed into a woman by his hands.

Conflict broiled within her. The barren playground, an antithesis of her mind, offered no respite. She had been to the ground twice, both on the boy’s whim. The sea’s voice had tormented her. Today was different. Today, she was the master of her own fate.

The boy was atop the sand, building a sandcastle. He had come from between her legs. The boy had been eating her away from inside. Those months, she went to bed, afraid of never seeing another sunrise. When he had come out, she had wept to ensure she was alive. He had spared her life. Utterance of the boy’s name was forbidden to her. For her, he was ‘the boy.’

Elijah’s eyes were on the boy now, examining his every movement. The boy was of a small stature, white gauze enveloped around his auburn curls. Despite yesterday’s account, he remained moving.

The account was fresh in her mind, how the boy’s head had collided with the stair’s edge, how the blood had painted the floor red.

Barefoot, Elijah bolted out, carrying the boy in his arms. In his hurtle, he had left the door open and his keys on the table. He had never been so careless before.

What would a selkie know about human love? Even if she did, why would she care? As much as she disliked the boy, he had opened a door for her. She snatched the keys with her trembling hands. Like every prey, she knew she was being watched. 

Let him see.

Throughout her second life, she had rattled at her cage, searching each corner and crevice and found nothing. Her freedom was outside her cage, inside his room, waiting. The bundle of keys was as heavy as an apple. She grabbed the red one and put it through.

Darkness engulfed his room, with the exception of the bright monitor, displaying the kitchen, her room, and the living hall from various corners. Five cabinets lined the wall. She pulled at their doors. They were locked. One by one, she tried the keys in each. Each cabinet was empty of her treasure. The last one was left. If her skin was not in the cabin, she would be forever forlorn.

Please let it be inside.

The handle was icy against her fingers. She pulled it. There it was. The sight choked her, rendering her breathless. Impeccable in its lustre, her silver-grey sealskin lay on the shelf. She ran her fingers through it. Once a reminiscence, her first life was now within reach.

Careful not to ruin it, she picked it and ran towards the door. At its edge, however, her resolve weakened. Elijah was everywhere, begging her to stay, saying the same thing in tandem. “I love you.”

He was both her assailant and nurser, her abuser and lover. He would miss her once she was gone. She could not bear to sadden him, no.

She stashed her sealskin in her purse and waited for his return. When the earliest rays of sun touched her room, someone knocked. She was never allowed to answer the door. Uncertainty lurked beyond it. What if it was not him?

“Who is it?

“It is me. Open the door.”

Elijah’s silhouette against the rising sun appeared just as it had years ago. He put the boy on the couch, beckoning her to follow. His eyes were glassy, different. For the first time, he was seeing her. Hope blossomed in her chest. Perhaps it was not too late for her. He tugged at her hand, pulling her closer, and rested his head on her stomach.

“For a second, I thought I would lose him.”

“He is here now. You rest. I will nurse him back to health, I promise.”

By evening, the boy was on his legs. He repeated the same word over and over: playground.

Even he gave up on convincing the boy. They were here now. She had packed everything essential, throwing the boy’s nappies over her sealskin until it was no longer visible. Tonight, she would hand it back.

Elijah’s phone was beeping now. He was quick to put it off. “Where is Noah’s medicine? It is time to give him one.”

“I —” He had never mentioned any medicines. “I do not have his medicines with me. I did not know…”

Wanton, he struck her.

His slap drowned everything within her.

“We will go home now.” He picked up the boy, but he tore his way out. Uncontained, the boy continued to build his castle. He did not bother the boy more.

“Watch over him.”

“Understood.”

The straps of her purse were digging in her shoulder. The waves were roaring.

Come back to us, daughter.

In ten years’ time, she had forgotten that she could never afford to love a man. Elijah would not weep but seek vengeance. 

The boy was enamoured by his castle, for he never glanced at her stepping back and darting to the narrow alleyways. She followed the sound of the waves until the unbroken expanse of the sea was there. The waves were ebbing and flowing against the rocks, their pace uncontrolled.

We have been waiting for you, daughter.

Muddled though it was, the image of her skerry came to her. She did not know where it was, but her clan would come for her. They would find her anywhere. She stepped closer to the rocks.

Elijah would be searching for her by now.

She unzipped her purse, flipping its contents on the sand. The breeze lifted her fear. Stripped of her bearings, she donned her sealskin. All her life, she had been uncertain. She was sure now.

Water was calling. Relentless, she dived for home

About the Author

Every culture has a story to explain the thing lurking under the bed, under your skin.

Tanishka Sharma has spent her life collecting them.

Whether any of it is fiction is beside the point.