A nightingale perched on the edge of one of the windows bathed in the warm sunlight, delicately pecking at the wooden frame. The window opened effortlessly, and the noble bird flew in. It landed gently on the poet's chest, who lay asleep on a Spanish ornamental sofa. The bird sang a soft melody that soon awakened the poet, who sat up instantly. The nightingale soared majestically to perch again, this time on his shoulder, as if it wanted to share its secrets with him.

A few steps away stood the Mermaid, dressed in a simple gray apron. She was immersed in her work, painting with the passion of an artist completely devoted to her craft. Oblivious to the poet's presence, who watched her with fascination, the Mermaid continued her task, moving the brushes with surgical precision. She hadn't noticed that the poet was awake, so he took his time to observe her and contemplate those electric movements she made when she was lost in her work.

After a few minutes, the poet was surprised to notice that the nightingale didn't leave him.

"Is it yours?" he asked curiously.

The Mermaid turned and discovered him sitting with the little bird resting on a finger.

"No, but it looks a lot like you," she replied with a joyful expression. She set the brushes aside and approached the nightingale. She extended a finger, and the bird hopped onto it. "If I'm a mermaid, you would be a little bird," she said now with nostalgia.

"Why do you like coming to the surface?" the poet inquired.

The Mermaid sighed, her face filled with disappointment.

"A mermaid's life is different," she responded softly.

"Because you live in the sea and on land?"

"No, I belong to the water, although I've never been comfortable there," the poet nodded, understanding the feeling of not belonging anywhere. "And you, on the other hand, belong to the land," she said, looking into his eyes.

"Do I really seem comfortable here?" the poet asked with an ironic smile.

The Mermaid shook her head and opened the window, allowing the nightingale to fly freely.

"Don't get your hopes up with me," she warned. "You can always watch the mermaid from the air, but you will never swim with her."

"Then I'll go flying," he replied decisively. "And anywhere I'll find a branch to watch you emerge and accompany you."

"What if I never surface again?"

The poet didn't know what to say and fell silent.

"Is it so bad where you come from?"

"It's not bad."

"Then why don't you decide to stay?"

"Because I can't," he replied in a barely audible voice.

"Why?" he asked again, emphatic and bewildered. The Mermaid didn't answer, but the poet knew that behind her words, she was hiding something that saddened her. "Show me that place," the poet had to speak again. "I'm not afraid of the depths, just as you're not afraid of the land." She hesitated, moving away to another window, but finally, the poet managed to take her hand. "Take me," he said with determination. "I'll flow like a wave."

The Mermaid didn't seem convinced, turned toward the street, and the poet followed her gaze.

Through the window, they saw two civil guard officers posting a portrait with the poet's face on the wall.

"In these conditions, I don't think I can leave the country; sooner or later, they'll catch me," he said, looking into her eyes and telling her again, "Take me, take me to the place where the mermaids sing."

The Mermaid pondered until the officers left.

"Do you have a sailboat?" she asked, considering his request.

"A sailboat?"

The Mermaid let go of his hand, walked over to her painting, and began gathering her brushes.

"We need to go to a place you call Las Islas Encantadas, about 770 miles away," she turned to look at him. "I don't think you can swim there." She took down the canvas and leaned it against others on the wall. The poet was silent, not knowing what to do. "It's better for you to leave," she said, understanding that he couldn't go. "Hide well, and please, don't tell anyone my secret."

"I'll get a sailboat," the poet said.

"And how?" she asked with an incredulous smile.

"You can help me."

"¿Me?"

"You could seduce the owner of a sailboat while I take it."

"Don't be silly. That's ridiculous. I don't know how to seduce; we don't do that. It's you who go crazy on your own. Besides, I wouldn't steal someone else's livelihood."

"I'm not talking about people from the port, but maybe a pirate. If I can capture their attention, it would be enough."

"Pirates are very cautious with us; they're difficult to deceive."

"But you must have some special skill, a mermaid's skill."

"I can create ocean currents, but not large enough to cause a storm."

"You know these waters very well," he said as he approached. "You could lure them to an uninhabited area. Once there, it would be easier to deceive them; when they abandon it, I would take it."

The Mermaid began to understand the poet's plan. She took a moment to imagine the situation. Then she went to a coat rack and put on a well-adorned hat.

"I have a better idea."

 

The Mermaid and the poet left the city and traveled several kilometers away. She wanted a place without danger to be able to transform. They crossed a deserted hill and reached the banks of the Guayas River, an area covered with trees and bushes.

"Are you sure you want to leave?" the Mermaid asked again.

"Yes," the poet replied.

"Then wait for me here." She took a few steps toward the riverbank, put her hands to her skirt, and stripped off her dress, undressing completely while the poet waited behind. She entered the river until the water covered her chest and swiftly dove in. She remained underwater for a few minutes.

Suddenly, Christopher saw a current rising in the middle of the river. The Mermaid emerged, exhausted from the transformation of her legs into a tail.

"What are you going to do?" the poet asked from a distance.

"Wait for me here," she repeated, and pointed her eyes toward the horizon with a serious determination. She submerged again and dived, gaining incredible speed.

From the shore, the poet could only see the water breaking on the surface. Waves formed that spread to the sides as the tip divided the river in half and moved further away. In a few minutes, the Mermaid disappeared into the distance.

Christopher picked up the dress, ballerina flats, and other clothes that the Mermaid had left on the shore. He moved to sit among the roots of a tree, surrounded by some bushes, and waited.

He waited, looking at the meeting of the sky with the river and the setting sun in between, without having the slightest idea of what the Mermaid was doing. She always concealed half of what she did, half of what she was, and he was left with nothing but trust in her. However, moments of terrible fear overcame him at times. In his mind, he fought against the idea of a destiny where the Mermaid never returned. He felt like one of the men in ancient myths, one more of those seduced men who would lose their sanity because... He took deep breaths to forget those images.

He had fought like this for hours.

Finally, as the sun died and the sky recalled its rays, he began to plan what to do in case he spent the night on the riverbank. He climbed a tree to avoid being bothered by birds of prey and reptiles, raising himself about five meters. He was starting to settle among the branches when he saw a silhouette approaching by the river. He stretched to get a better look. It was a sailboat, a small sailing boat that was approaching in an impossible manner: it was coming against the current, at a good speed despite the light wind. He could see that the flag was black, with the image of a skeleton holding an hourglass. The waters pushed the boat toward the shore with illogical waves, and that's how it propelled until it reached the land.

When Christopher climbed down from the tree and approached, the rebellious current stopped shaking, and the flow returned to its rational pace. He was amazed. He approached and touched the boat. It was meant for about four people, with a single sail and a couple of barrels inside.

He heard a watery splash and turned towards the river. The Mermaid had emerged exhausted and was approaching the shore very slowly. The poet ran to help her, entered the river, and swam towards her. The Mermaid succumbed to fatigue when she felt his arms around her. He put a cheek on her shoulder, and she fell asleep.

The poet laid her comfortably inside the boat, threw the clothes inside, and pushed the sailboat back into the river's current. When it began to float, he jumped in and climbed up the mast to remove the pirate weathervane. He made sure the sail caught as much wind as possible and then adjusted the rudder, sailing towards the sea.