Of Poseidon

hemorrhaging since changing into this gown.
    Dr. Milligan smiles and takes off his glasses. Wiping them with his lab coat, he says, “Well, my dear, Galen is convinced that’s genetic as well. If it is genetic, I hardly think it could be magic. And I’m not convinced they could understand a language as complex as English. If they did, there’d be no point in baiting a hook ever again, right? A fisherman would simply drop a bucket in the water and tell his catch of the day to swim into it.” He chuckles. “If I had to guess, I’d say it has to do with the sound of your voice. We already know that many species of marine life communicate between each other with sound. Whales and dolphins, for example. It’s possible your voice has a one-size-fits-all frequency, or some special inflection that they understand. It’s possible that what you want them to do translates not in what you say but in how you say it. Unfortunately, I don’t have the equipment to test that theory, or even the ability to get my hands on it right now.”
    I nod, unsure how I’m supposed to react to that. To any of this.
    “Is there anything else bothering you, Emma?” Galen says, surprising me. I wonder why we bothered with the X-rays at all, when Galen can apparently see straight through me, into my deepest parts. Like last night, in the hotel room. When I got dressed after my forty-five-minute cry-a-thon in the shower, I found a box of chocolate-covered strawberries on my pillow and Galen folded up on the ugly love seat, sound asleep.
    I clear my throat. “Dr. Milligan, I’m not sure if Galen told you or not, but my father was an MD. He took care of my runny noses, my scrapes, my immunizations. When he died, his friend Dr. Morton took over. How could they miss my bone structure, my slow pulse? You’d think they’d notice my heart is on the opposite side of my chest. I mean, are you sure you’re reading this right? You’re not a human doctor, you’re basically a veterinarian, right? You could be wrong.”
    Galen seems antsy, shifting in his chair. While metal and polyester aren’t exactly the ingredients for coziness, I get the feeling it’s my question unsettling him instead of any physical discomfort.
    Dr. Milligan pulls the rolling stool up to where I sit on the exam table. Reflexively, I lean toward him, crinkling the thin strip of paper separating me from the vinyl. He reaches out to pat my hand. “Emma, my dear, it’s natural to feel that way. And you’re right, I’m definitely not a human doctor, like your dad was. But it doesn’t take a human doctor to see the differences between my X-ray, Galen’s X-ray, and yours.” For emphasis, he inclines his head toward the wall where our bones are illuminated on the screen. Then he double-takes. “Good grief.” Jumping to his feet, he sends the metal stool toppling behind him.
    Galen and I watch as Dr. Milligan rearranges the images in a whirlwind of warbling plastic: Dr. Milligan’s X-rays of himself, mine, then Galen’s. “Is this really possible?” he says, peering over the rim of his glasses at us, concentration knitting his brows together like kissing caterpillars.
    Galen stands and crosses his arms, cocking his head at the lighted screen. Finally, he says, “I guess I’m not following, Dr. Milligan. What do you see?”
    Dr. Milligan looks at me, his excitement making him appear years younger. I shake my head, unable to offer an intelligent guess. Dr. Milligan doesn’t miss a beat. “The first one, mine, is human. The last one, Galen’s, is Syrena. This is Emma’s, here in the middle. It’s obvious. So obvious, I’m ashamed. She’s definitely not human. But she isn’t Syrena either.”
    I’m not liking the sound of this. I can tell Dr. Milligan thinks he’s already explained himself clearly; he’s looking at both of us like we’re opening a gift he gave us, and he can’t wait to see our reactions.
    Galen saves us. “Dr. Milligan, you know as far as these things go, I’m pretty ignorant. For my sake, could you just give us the idiot version?”
    I don’t like being impressed with Galen. Just when I had him sculpted as a snobby Royal in my head, he turns all humble on me, smashing the image.
    Dr. Milligan chuckles. “Of course, my boy. Emma is neither human nor Syrena. She appears to be both. Though I’m not sure if that’s even possible. Syrena DNA is very different from human DNA.”
    Galen steps back and takes his seat again. I’d do the