Mermaid

by Jodi Picoult

“You know what the problem is with you?” I say, turning on him so fiercely that he reels backward. “You want me to tell you the truth. But you don’t want to hear it.”

“There are only five flounder left,” he says. I would have said, There are nine missing. This, in a nutshell, is my marriage.

I was thinking that once you add one more to the equation, you can never go back to the sum you used to be.

Peacock flounder are brown, with vibrant blue rings and spots all over. They have a deep V between their eyes, as if they’re constantly consumed with thought. They can change color to blend in with the bottom of the sea.

Here is my favorite fact: as peacock-flounder larvae mature, their bodies mellow into circles. Their right eye migrates to the left side of their body through a slit left behind by the separation of the dorsal fin from the cranium. During this time, they are both asymmetrical and blind.

I imagined myself, as clear as the Florida sky, unfurling in that tank, lying on the sandy bottom, fast asleep. A princess in a glass box.