Feedback: Greatly appreciated. I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.
Author's Notes: The title and poetry are from the poem The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot. I felt it was pretty well-established in The Girlfriend that Summer's birthday was that Wednesday, the 13th of August.
Disclaimer: I do not own any original characters or original plots. They belong to the creators of the OC universe. My other plots and prose and unique characters are all mine, copywrited December of 2003, and not for use without my permission.

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Chapter 3: Mermaid

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
*

Sunday, August 13, 1995

The card stood upright on the spotless marble counter, a bright pink square in the sea of white that was the kitchen. It was the first thing Summer saw when she entered the room, still yawning. She had been expecting a birthday cake, or presents, or at least Daddy opening a box of donuts for a special breakfast. But there was only the card.

She picked it up, studied the glittery picture of a rose, the curly cursive that spelled out To my beautiful daughter. On the inside, Daddy had added a message in his scrawl: Happy 8th birthday, Princess! Sorry I had to work. Love, Daddy. P.S. Check the living room.

Summer hated the nickname Daddy didn't know that she still remembered him calling Mommy that, the day she left. It hadn't been a nice name then, and the word still held the sting from all those years ago. Of course, Daddy didn't mean anything by it. He thought it was sweet. And Summer wasn't going to tell him to stop.

Check the living room, it said. She dropped the card on the counter and ran back towards the front of the house. There, sitting on the couch, was a brand new American Girl Doll. Summer already had Felicity and Molly, but this was the modern doll that was made to look exactly like her. It had straight brown hair and dark eyes, and was wearing a cool red jumper. Beside the doll was a box, and in the box — once she'd torn off the pink floral paper — was a matching outfit, just her size. Delighted, Summer tossed aside the box and ran upstairs to her room, the doll in one hand and the outfit in the other.

She slipped on the black turtleneck, the funny argyle stockings, and the red jumper, then grabbed the doll and studied herself in the mirror. They looked like twins. Summer giggled with delight at her reflection, then hopped back downstairs, hugging the doll to her chest. She landed in the front hall and looked around, her happiness fading. There was no one to share in her gleeful celebration; the house was silent.

It had been just a month since Zoë had gone, leaving the house empty and Summer all alone. Zoë had been a part of the family for three years, and two of those years had been happy. During that time Daddy had come home earlier in the evening, kissing Zoë and hugging Summer before he'd even set down his briefcase. Soon after Summer had started kindergarten Zoë had moved in; if Summer had a nightmare she could find Zoë sleeping in Mommy's old spot, beside Daddy in bed.

Once, though, she had walked in to find Daddy lying on top of Zoë, kissing her. Zoë was in her underwear, and Daddy had been annoyed. After that, Summer knew to knock.

That was back when things were peaceful. Last year, Daddy had started to work longer hours again, sometimes not returning until late at night. When he was home, he had spent more time in his office, and snapped if Summer tried to ask him a question. Zoë had smiled less. Once, Summer had caught her crying in the bathroom. There had been tension in the house, and arguments that had started when they thought Summer was asleep. But she'd always stayed awake and listened to the loud voices below, peering through the banister at the top of the stairs.

Often the name Miranda had surfaced. Summer had wondered why Zoë hated Daddy's secretary, who had always seemed so nice. But most of their fights had included Miranda, Miranda who stayed late to help Daddy with his work and left friendly messages on the answering machine. Zoë had called Miranda a and other words Summer didn't know but understood were mean by the way Zoë had said them.

And then one morning, Zoë was gone. Daddy hadn't said where she was, or why she left. He'd merely told Summer that it was time for Zoë to leave, and that he expected Summer to be a big girl and take care of herself.

Summer could take care of herself, but she was lonely. Especially today, because it was her birthday. She set the doll down on the counter, stroking a wisp of hair back into place, and wondered what she should name it. Last year, Emily's mother had been pregnant, and Emily was allowed to pick the name for her baby brother or sister. She had enlisted Holly and Summer to help her decide on the perfect name. They'd eventually settled on Eric for a boy and Jasmine for a girl. Emily's new sibling had been a boy — much to her mother's apparent relief — but Summer still liked the name Jasmine.

Later, I'll take you upstairs and you can meet your sisters, she told Jasmine, beginning to braid her hair. Their names are Molly and Felicity and the three of you will be best friends.

The words gave her a twinge as she said them. Emily and Holly weren't friends with her at the moment. The last few years had been rocky for her when it came to these friendships. Emily and Holly were best friends with each other first, and friends with her second. Sometimes they liked her, inviting her to play dolls or go to the pool, and sometimes they ignored her, whispering secrets and choosing each other as partners for school projects. The instability of this friendship left Summer constantly unsure of where she stood. She always tried to be nice: she complimented their clothing and brought gifts to play-dates and never ever argued, even when they made her be the bad guy in every game they played. It didn't matter what she had to do, as long as she stayed in their good graces.

But sometimes it wasn't enough, and she found herself playing with her dolls instead of her peers.

This time, she was angry about it. Just four days ago she'd been at the pool with Holly and Emily, and she'd suggested playing mermaids, a game where there were no villains, and they could splash about in the shallow end. But Emily wanted to jump off the diving board, never mind that Summer hadn't passed the swim test yet and couldn't join her, so she and Holly had run off. They had spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring her, and when they dropped Summer off first, even though Holly's house was closer, Summer knew they were having a sleep over. Without her. She had done her best to glare at them before storming into the house, deciding that she was sick of their stupid games and she wasn't going to care anymore if they enjoyed excluding her.

Besides, she'd show them. Daddy had promised her a huge birthday party before school started, and she would invite everyone in the third grade except for Holly and Emily. And Seth Cohen. No one ever invited Seth Cohen because he was weird. Worse, he was a tattletale. Last spring Luke had climbed to the very top of the monkey bars and stood on the rungs, and everyone had been so impressed. But Seth had told Mrs. Green and Luke had been given indoor recess for a week.

Just thinking about it made Summer almost as mad as she was about Holly and Emily. But she wouldn't let them ruin her birthday, not one bit. She didn't need them to have fun.

Come on, she said to Jasmine. I'll show you Princess Jasmine. She's in the movie Aladdin' and she's really pretty. She got herself a bowl of cereal, carefully using two hands to pour the milk, then carried both bowl and Jasmine into the TV room. She curled up on the austere grey couch, nestled in the corner while Jasmine sat beside her and watched the movie sweep by with a bland, fixed smile on her face.

After was over, Summer searched through the tapes in the tidy shelves of the entertainment center. She selected The Little Mermaid, and went to make herself a peanut butter sandwich while the tape rewound. There was one upside to taking care of herself: she could leave off the jelly when she made peanut butter sandwiches, and use as much chocolate syrup as she liked in her chocolate milk.

Summer loved The Little Mermaid, but she kind of thought Ariel was dumb. Why would she give up the ability to swim, her beautiful jewel-toned world with exotic fish and sapphire light? Why would she want to walk around on the boring land when she had a shimmering tail, underwater castles, and fun friends like Flounder and Sebastian? It didn't make any sense, and every time she watched the song Under the Sea Summer hoped Ariel would listen to Sebastian and decide to stay. Stupid Prince Eric, ruining everything.

The clock in the living room chimed two, the time when the mail came every day. Summer paused the movie and ran towards the door, stopping short in the tiled front hall and sliding the last few feet. The mail hadn't arrived yet. She peered through the brass mail slot, and a breath of warm air hit her in the face. It was mid-afternoon, and the temperature felt as though it was nearing 100 degrees. Through the mail slot she could see a bright rectangle of the front yard — technicolor in comparison to the dim shadows inside — and the empty street. She kept her eyes pressed to the mail slot, hoping to surprise the mailman when he came. Maybe he'd see the birthday cards in the mail and wish her a happy birthday.

Then she remembered: it was Sunday. There was no mail on Sundays. Summer sat down with her back to the door, feeling stupid. Maybe the card had come yesterday, and Daddy had forgotten to tell her? Mommy's letters were sometimes early and often just on time, never late. She jumped to her feet and pushed open the door to Daddy's office; yesterday's mail was still in a neat pile on his desk. She flipped through the stack, searching for the cream-colored envelope with the familiar return address: New York, NY. It wasn't there. She checked again, more slowly this time. No letter.

Mommy always sent her a card on her birthday. Over the years her other cards, the conversational ones, had dwindled, but she never forgot the important ones. Every birthday, every Christmas, every June 9th when another year had passed a letter would arrive, bearing news, sometimes pictures, and always the promise of a visit to New York in the near future.

But there was no letter.

Summer threw the pile of mail down. It didn't matter. It wasn't like she needed another card where Mommy bragged about stupid New York City and made empty promises about how she was fixing up a room for Summer when she visited. Besides, a card would probably show up tomorrow. Maybe she'd mailed it a day late, forgetting that there was no mail on Sunday.

Summer returned to the movie, but she couldn't concentrate. Jasmine was staring at her, looking smug. Stop staring, Summer told the doll, laying her down on the couch so her eyes automatically closed. She crossed her arms over her chest, sulking as stupid Prince Eric tried to kiss Ariel. Stupid Ariel, who was just another selfish person who didn't care if she left her family and friends behind.

Summer turned off the movie abruptly. She was sick and tired of people forgetting about her. Daddy was at work, Zoë hadn't called, Holly and Emily were ignoring her. And Mommy hadn't even sent her a card. Mommy had forgotten her.

The anger was empowering. It gave her the strength to storm back to Daddy's office and find a blank pad of paper. To perch on his chair beside the whirring of the new computer and begin a letter she hadn't even known she wanted to write.

Dear Mommy, she wrote carefully, in her best cursive. I wish... But she wasn't sure what she wished. A thousand ideas jumbled about in her head. I wish I had a Mommy like Holly and Emily. I wish I could visit you. I wish you hadn't left me. I wish you would die.

Birthdays were for wishes, even if she didn't have a cake. Summer closed her eyes and tried to think of what her real wish was. If she could be anywhere right now, where would she be the most content? Where would people care about her, and appreciate her, and worry when she wasn't there? Where would she be surrounded by friends and people who loved her? She thought of Ariel, and King Triton worrying about her safety, saying how much he'd miss her.

She opened her eyes and erased the opening, the part addressed to Mommy. Then, carefully, she picked up where she'd left off. I wish I was a mermaid, and was friends with all the fish..."

*


Yeah, yeah, I know the poem was from the sixth grade. But it was pretty simplistic and we have no proof that she didn't write it before that.

Thanks for sticking with me this far, guys. I'm really have a great time writing this, because Summer's such a fascinating character. The more I try to explain the of who she is, the more the pieces fall into place.

Next up: New Year's Eve, 1996!