Date Night

'What’s wrong?' I ask the sulky selkies.
Fiddling with her sealskin on the edge of the tub, Fiona won’t look at me. Won’t hand me the razor.  
I try: 'What does everyone think of the new cherry nail polish?' First pedicure in a long time.
Silence.  
I wiggle my toes, splashing in the already unsettled waters of the bath.
Even Ciann, my best merfriend, is pouty. Staring at me, she squeaks a tiny, tiny 'Humph, Philippa.'  
Really?
It was she who had sung about plenty of fish in the sea when Dave left, and I soaked in gin and despair. Not even a lavender bubble bath could soothe me.  
'I’m done with human men,' I blubbered to the seal woman. 'What about the males of your kind?'
Ciann shook her head, wagged a flipper. 'No.'
I boohooed until she rolled her round, soulful eyes and hooked me up with Broll, her favourite of the sea. Fiona’s fav too, I hear on the waves.  
Ciann then hung her mottled coat on the bathroom door and, slipping on a sweater and jeans, came shopping. Found me a little black dress and — as I’m no longer as perky as she — a new bra. Kindly suggested I do my hair in long, loose mermaid curls.
So, frankly, it’s a bit odd and rather oily that, on this my big date night, there’s a sudden chill in the tub.