She was a siren, and he knew, in some way, that she would destroy him. Flaming red hair and a fiery disposition to boot. He never went to see her dance anymore, not when he didn’t have to. He was fond of the girls- the ladies who’d helped raise him. They were all beautiful in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to go there.

It was too hard to look inside. Inside himself, of course. It was too hard to see her on stage. All he wanted was to feel nothing when he looked at her, but it had never been that way and it never would be. No matter how he tried to get away from her, from his feelings for her, from everything that made those feelings resonate, he knew he couldn’t. She was a siren, and it was written in their stars that she would destroy him. He knew this. He’d known his whole life. But there was no way to stop it.

Why did I come here? he asked himself. His mother was in a silk body suit, embroidered with sequins and pearls around her breasts. Her long hair was set in ringlets down to her bottom, which was barely concealed by beaded nude underwear. Her makeup was flashy and bright, as usual, and her laughs were like a song, drawing him in closer and closer. Before he knew it, he was behind her, his hand moving to lightly touch her side.

“What on— Jimmy!” she gasped as she turned around and jumped into his arms in one fell swoop. And again, before he knew it, he was holding her like he would a child. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and he looked up into her shining emerald eyes. She looked no older than he did, really. It made him sick to his stomach. “Oh sweetheart,” she gushed, her hands on his cheeks as she kissed his forehead, his nose, his lips, his chin. “What are you doing here? You told me you’d never come back here! I must say, darling, the girls were none-too-happy when I told them you’d relinquished this place. This is your second home, of course, and these women are all your aunts.”

It was a strange thing, to hold his mother in his arms like a child, or at his age, like a girlfriend as she scolded him. “Sorry ma,” he said as he looked around the room. The other women stared at Jimmy with adoration, and even though they were dressed as sirens too, he had no feelings for them. Well, no feelings that were beyond strictly platonic and familial. Generally, Jimmy didn’t mind their attention. They loved to question him about girls and he had been fixed up on many blind dates, but today he wasn’t interested in talking to them. The only gal he was there to see was Gillian.

“Well, it’s no matter dear. You’re here now,” she replied with a wide smile as she jumped back down onto the ground. “Come on, I’ll put on my robe and we’ll go to my dressing room. You can tell me about your day.” Her back turned to him as she slid her French robe over her shoulders- a gift from Jimmy for her 27th birthday. It was the most money he had ever spent on anything, really, but it was worth it to see the smile on her face when he’d given it to her. She always lit up around Jimmy. He always knew just what to say, and even when there was nothing to say, his presence was enough to brighten her darkest hours.

Gillian didn’t touch her son, but Jimmy felt as though she were pulling him out of that space and up the stairs, into her small dressing room. The candles burned dully around her vanity where all of her makeup and costume jewelry were neatly aligned. They could both hear the music playing from downstairs, and though it should have gotten quieter when Gillian shut the door, Jimmy could’ve sworn that it grew louder. “Sit down, dear,” she told him, and he obeyed as he always did. She was in his lap a few seconds later, her fingertips curling around his strong shoulders. Her eyes bore into his with some degree of seriousness, but nothing was ever too serious with Gillian. There was always a spark of something else there- curiosity, happiness, excitement, calculated anger. “So. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, hm?”

“I got my acceptance letter.” He paused, waiting to read the expression on her face. He rolled his eyes at her confusion. “To Princeton,” he reminded her, using his hands to gesticulate the obviousness. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down briefly. Her robe was parted slightly and her bead-covered breasts were visible in the dim light. He’d touched them before, two years ago. “Go ahead. You’ll need to know how to do this soon enough. Men these days have no tact- they don’t appreciate women, they tear into them. I won’t have my son acting like an animal. You’ll be a gentleman when you’re with a lady.” He swallowed the second lump in his throat.

“Oh, honey. That’s wonderful! I knew Nucky would keep his word,” she said, pointing her finger down at Jimmy’s face. “Congratulations baby.” She bent down to kiss his soft lips and he sighed against her, his hands moving to the indent of her waist. Fireworks went off inside of his stomach whenever she kissed him and he knew it wasn’t right. He knew that most of their relationship wasn’t right. How could it be, under the circumstances?

He pulled back and wiped his lips with the back of his mouth, looking up at her emerald eyes again. “I’m gonna miss you, ma.”

“I’m going to miss you too, baby. But you know I’ll be up to visit every other weekend. Or maybe every weekend. Or maybe I’ll just stay with Ruth? She has a house down there, ya know. Spare bedroom and everything.” The corners of Jimmy’s mouth twitched up into a smile and he laughed quietly, shaking his head as he averted his eyes. “Don’t you laugh at me! I’ll be so lonely without you, I won’t know what to do with myself! You can’t blame a mother for wanting to hold onto her only son.”

Jimmy closed his eyes and let his grip on Gillian’s waist loosen. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his hands falling away from her body. Jimmy didn’t know how to live without her. He hated her for making him feel like this. He hated her for making him feel guilty already, before he’d even left for school. He hated her for making their relationship what it was. He hated her for making him feel temptation in a way that no man should feel for his mother. But most of all, he hated how much he loved her. He was consumed by every inch of her, every single day. He loved her and he knew, in some way, that his love for her would kill him. Because he would do anything for her, give up anything for her, be anything she wanted him to be. He was helpless against her voice, her hair, her body. Her.

He could feel his bones cracking against the rocks as her song grew louder, stronger. He was dying; he’d been dying since he could remember. Because she was a siren, and she would destroy him.