A Few Abnormalities
"Did you say you’re a mermaid?"
"Yes," said the female voice.
"And I’m Spiderman," I said. "I swear, you telemarketers will say anything to keep people on the phone."
"Telemarketer? I don’t know that word."
"Then why’d you call?"
"To hear your voice."
"My voice? Who is this?" I asked.
"Shantakumari. I know you don’t remember me. It was so long ago that I held you in my arms. That awful night when you were delirious. I gave you warmth. Tenderness." Her voice broke. "And I gave you all the love within my being."
"Listen, Shanta, uh, what’s your last name?"
"I have only one name. Shantakumari."
"Whatever. I really appreciate what you did. There’s no need to cry. Would you do something for me right now?"
"Yes. Anything."
"Hang up, then dial 911. Can you remember that?"
"But I do not wish to speak to others," she said. "Just you. I swam so far to talk to you."
"Well, don’t worry. We’ll talk again, sometime. But right now, I want you to call my friends at 911. Tell them exactly what you just told me. They’ll be so happy to hear from you. I’m gonna hang up now. Have a nice day."
I felt a tinge of sorrow for the deluded woman. I wondered what had pulverized her psyche and pushed her over the edge.
The next morning the phone rang. "Tom Downs," I said.
"This is Doctor Augustus Latimer. I’m with the University of California. Department of Oceanic Research. I understand you know Shantakumari."
"Oh, that dingbat. She called me yesterday and said some very strange things. I figured she was having a breakdown, so I suggested she call 911. I thought if she told them what she told me, they’d send help. Did she screw up and call you instead?"
"No. She called 911 as you suggested. The hospital contacted me when they admitted her. Mr. Downs, do you realize you’ve initiated a sequence of events that could get you a Nobel Prize?"
"You gotta be kidding."
"I’d stake my scientific reputation on it. Can you meet me for lunch today at UCLA’s faculty dining room to discuss this?"
I agreed.
During lunch, Latimer said, "Shantakumari is under observation and tight security at the university hospital. She tells quite a fascinating tale that involves you. She claims you two met on Tuvalu, a Pacific island. Fifty years ago, in 1943."
"That’s baloney. I was never there. The enemy held that island."
"The FBI checked your military records. You were a pilot. While ferrying a fighter plane from Hawaii to New Guinea, it was hit by flak. You crashed in the Pacific, and were declared MIA. Sixty-seven days later, you showed up at an Army base in New Guinea. Several hundred miles from where you crashed."
"I remember when Japanese flak shot out my controls. My plane caught fire, spun out of control, and went into a steep dive. Next thing I knew, I was in an Army hospital."
"Shantakumari saw your plane plunge into the Pacific," Latimer said. "She dove in. Pulled you out of the cockpit. Took you to Tuvalu. Hid you from the Japanese. Fed you things she recovered from sunken warships. Nursed you back to health. You were together for sixty-seven days. Then she brought you to the Army base at New Guinea."
"She sure has a wild imagination."
"But she has proof: your Army ID card and dog tags. Plus your flight plan and aeronautical charts. She’s had them since 1943."
"How come I don’t remember this?"
"She gave you a kelp potion to make you forget," Latimer said. "She wasn’t sure if you could adjust to her culture. She took you to New Guinea, then disappeared. Go see her. She really needs you."
"Needs me? I’m seventy years old. Been divorced twice. I don’t want a woman in my life. Especially one with mental problems."
"She’s not mentally ill. We’ve tested her IQ. It’s off the charts. She has some abnormalities, but not when it comes to her mind. Her knowledge of marine life and vegetation is so incredible, we offered her a job. I think you’re extremely lucky that she’s come back to you. Do you realize how far she’s traveled to find you?"
"Tell her to go back."
"Be reasonable. Go see her."
After considerable wrangling, I agreed to accompany Latimer to the hospital.
When I arrived, Shanta-whoever was lying under a sheet.
"Is that her?"
Latimer nodded.
"But she looks like she’s only eleven or twelve. What the hell’s going on?"
"My love," she called. "It has been so long. Come. Touch me." Smiling, she lowered the sheet, exposing her nakedness.
"Oh my God!" I yelled.
The next thing I knew, security guards were helping me up.
"I swear by all that’s holy---I don’t know this child, nor have I ever done anything to her."
"I have not been a child for two-hundred years," she said, spreading her arms for an embrace.
All my instincts screamed TABOO! Yet, I found myself unable to resist.
Her briny kiss awakened images of Tuvalu. And how she held me, hand-fed me, sang siren melodies to me.
"I remember loving you madly," I whispered.
"As you shall again," she said, placing my hand on her stomach.
I felt something squirming, kicking. I raised both fists to smash whatever it was.
Guards restrained me. A needle slammed into my arm.
As things grew dim, Latimer said, "Your implantation is a magnificent, biological breakthrough. You’ll surely win a Nobel Prize. Think of the millions from books, lectures, movie contracts"
I awakened to thunderous applause and hundreds of camera clicks.
"The President is on the phone," Latimer said, passing his cell phone.
"Congratulations! America’s proud of you! We’d love to have you and your lovely family for dinner at the White House. Just between us, how does it feel to be seventy and father of a hundred and fifty?"