The Deep End of the Sea, page 11
“You will do nothing of the sort. Stop freaking the poor girl out, Dite,” he says. I like his grin—it’s heavily lopsided, bordering on goofy. Then he steps forward and holds out his hand. “She’s been so looking forward to meeting you that apparently she’s lost her manners and forgotten to introduce us. My name is Hephaestus; this is my wife Aphrodite.”
I stare down at the hand proffered, so large for his size and somewhat stained. A god, offering to shake my hand? Have I been wrong about their kind all of these years, despite the examples Hermes showed me time and time again? When my skin meets his, and his sturdy fingers curl around mine for the brief moment our hands claps, my gut twists in shame.
I’ve thought them all worse than the monster I was accused of being. Heartless, fickle beings who loved to torment mortals on the turn of a dime. Maybe I’ve judged them all without getting to know them first, just as surely as history as judged me.
This is all so surreal.
“Oh, Medusa, forgive us,” Persephone quickly says, her hand protectively going to my lower back. “I should have immediately made introductions. See? I’m close to swooning. Please tell me that is a basket of bread on the table.”
Hades rolls his eyes again but winks as he realizes I notice his playful exasperation. He holds out my seat for me; I scramble for something appropriate to say. “I’m honored to dine with you tonight,” I tell them as Persephone gently angles me toward the chair next to Aphrodite. She chooses the one on my left; before he goes to his seat, Hades drops a loving kiss on top of his wife’s head.
Aphrodite sinks down in her chair just as gracefully as she’d floated out of it. Her hand immediately goes to my arm, clutching me like I’ve seen countless girlfriends do in chick flicks over the years. “My brother ... I could just kill him. Kill him! He’s lucky he’s not here right now or I might just leap across this table and strangle him. I’ve begged him for ages to meet you, you know. Ages. But he’d give me this line of bull with his whole,” she drops her voice to a much lower approximation of what I assume she thinks Hermes’ sounds like, “’She needs space, Dite. You come on way too strong; you’ll scare the crap out of her.’” Her voice returns to normal. “Can you believe that? Because you and I ... I just know it. We’ll get along like sisters. I feel it in my bones. Honey!” She turns to Hephaestus, seated on her right. “Didn’t I tell you? From the first moment I saw her in the Assembly hall, I knew. No wonder Hermes is—”
The table rattles as she jerks back, wincing before flushing bright red and bursting into giggles again. As she leans down and rubs her leg, her husband gives her a pointed yet exasperated look I can’t quite decipher. A choking sound comes from Persephone, along with an unlady-like snort. Hades busies himself with the wine menu the maître d' handed over before leaving us alone.
Did I miss something other than a goddess attempting to break the record set for fastest speaker alive?
She mercifully lets my arm go and adds, more slowly, “Yes, um, well ... that is a lovely dress. Just lovely.”
Puzzled, and admittedly more than a bit overwhelmed by her boisterous personality, I thank her. Like he knows I need some time to adjust to all this newness, Hades switches the subject by asking if it would behoove everyone to have a bottle of wine brought to the table or if individual drinks would be preferred. Several amusing minutes of good-natured arguing follow, during which I am content to merely watch the interactions between these gods and goddesses. Just as I was when I first observed Hades and Persephone together, I’m surprised by the relationship between Aphrodite and Hephaestus. Either she’s an excellent actress or the Goddess of Love is genuinely head-over-heels in love with her quiet yet wry husband. They touch each other almost as much as my hosts do, little touches such as holding hands and kissing knuckles, constant ones that keep them connected.
Not that we ever do such things together, but these actions leave me irrationally missing Hermes something fierce.
Once the wine is selected—Persephone wins out, claiming I need to experience ambrosia or what was the point of us coming to this particular place anyway—the conversation turns toward work matters, which relieves me. I’m not pushed into talking about myself or put on the spot at any moment; then again, I am not ignored, either. The muscles bunching in my shoulders gradually relax (I have a sneaky suspicion I have the ambrosia to partially thank for that), and for the first time since walking into the restaurant, I don’t yearn to be holed up in my room back at the villa.
Is this what it’s like, the proverbial going out to hang with one’s friends that television shows glorify? Because if it is, I think I might very well learn to like it, despite desperately wishing Hermes were here. As comfortable as I have become with Persephone and Hades, and as charming and welcoming as Aphrodite (who has demanded I call her Dite, because that’s what her good friends do and we are clearly already good friends, don’t I know it?) and Hephaestus are, I miss him. Wonder what he’s doing, where he is—is it nighttime there? Is he wining and dining with whomever his father has sent him to see? An image of him sitting at a table much like this, in a similar restaurant fills my mind: him, dressed in a sophisticated black suit with a charcoal gray shirt, unbuttoned without a tie, talking to some beautiful woman. She giggles in a really annoying way that people probably find appealing and finds every excuse to lightly run her perfectly manicured nails across his arm.
It makes me sick to my stomach, which oddly prompts me to drink my second glass of ambrosia so freshly refilled in three long swallows.
I’ve never really thought about what he does when he goes out on errands for his father. I know from listening to Persephone and Hades talk that he often works in Zeus’ stead, wrangling deals and negotiating terms with other pantheons in the heavens. They’ve often remarked about how good he is during business meetings, how he’s more capable than most to close difficult deals and placate even Zeus’ toughest opponents. It’d all been a very nebulous concept to me, one that, despite my affections for him, had never peaked my interest simply because I hadn’t thought it my concern. But now ... now I want to know.
“Are you alright, Medusa?” Dite asks me. Her hand is on my shoulder again, jarring me out of my musings. “You’re shaking.”
I startle and the glass slips from my fingers; thankfully, it’s newly empty, or my dress would be ruined as it lands squarely on my lap. Even still, tiny leftover sprinkles dot the thin silk.
“Oh!” She grabs the glass as the table grows quiet. “I’m like the legendary bull in the china shop. Here, come with me to the restroom; I will help you get those stains right out.” She digs in the beaded clutch lying on the table next to her plate before pulling out a stain remover pen. “Voilà!”
“I promise you there’s no need,” I tell her. I mean, it’s just a few little specks, and they’re already microscopic. But within minutes, I’m in an opulent area off to the side of a gleaming restroom, leaning back into an overstuffed chair as the Goddess of Love gets to work on my now completely dry dress. There are a half dozen other women milling about, fluffing their hair or applying lipstick, whose sly ogling unnerves me to my core. It’s an eerie sensation, having eyes trace over you over and over again, as if their owners are trying to riddle out weakness and secrets.
Just like that, I’m wishing I were back at the villa again.
“There.” Dite caps the pen and stands up. Small wet circles form a pattern around my upper thighs. “Let’s just give it a few minutes to dry before we go back out there.” She pulls over a nearby chair; when she sits down, our knees touch, she is so close. “How are you doing tonight? This must all be a lot to take in.”
Somebody coughs nearby; it’s followed up with another derisive whisper of my name. Aphrodite whips her head around, eyes narrowing into slits as she spots a trio of girls across the room. A low hiss comes from between her lips, one so alien from a goddess who has shown me nothing but a bubbly, enchanting personality that I’m spurred to lean forward and touch her arm, even though my chest constricts in alarm.
“It’s okay.” I try to mimic cheeriness. “That’s to be expected, isn’t it?”
She turns back to me, eyes wide in question. The trio quickly leave the restroom.
It may be suicide, but I say, “I’ve heard that there aren’t a lot of ex-monsters around. Of course they’ll be curious.”
Her expression smoothes out until all I see is the woman I’d met out in the dining room. “Ex-monsters! Are you referring to yourself? Because that’s just ridic—”
More risk of suicide, because I cut her off. “I am an ex-monster.” I offer a smile, even though my insides quiver uncontrollably. What if I truly offend her right now? I might be right back on Gorgóna before the night is over. “The thing is, I happen to know that for the few lucky enough as I to be changed back are no longer in Olympus. And yet, I’m not only still here, but I’m living at the Lord of the Underworld’s home. I’m having dinner tonight with not one, but four powerful and influential gods. And I don’t know why.”
It’s something I’ve wanted to ask Hermes over the last week, but haven’t mustered up the courage to do so—not because I was afraid of him, but more because I was afraid to know the real answer. Somehow tonight I’ve found it, though, and I don’t know if it’s because I drank much ambrosia, the claustrophobia has messed with my brain, or I’m frankly spooked by her about-face with that weird hissing (truly ironic, coming from a woman who used to hear hissing on a regular basis, when the snakes on her head would get—pun completely intended—snappish with one another) toward those girls, but here I am, using that bit of courage to finally clear the air.
I’ve taken her by surprise, though, because her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise high.
“I’m not stupid. I know this isn’t normal. Your kind doesn’t mix with my kind—”
“What!”
My hands are visibly shaking, but they’ve got nothing on the full-blown tremors rocking every cell inside my body. I wish I’d drunk more of the ambrosia. Aphrodite has been nothing but kind tonight, and I’m like a rabid dog right now, fully attacking her in a public restroom. There’s no turning back, though. I can’t stand the limbo that I’ve fallen into, even if in just five short days. For the last two thousand years, I at least knew what to expect. Life was stable. Predictable. Right now? It’s utter chaos. It’s like I’m on the edge of a glacier at sea level, finally taken my first steps on land after being lost at sea for ages; yet each time my weight bears down upon my feet as I move, a low groan is unleashed that hints at potential disaster.
The fact is, I’m waiting for the area I’m standing on to break off, so I’m once more adrift at sea. This is how my luck is. Everyone has been kind, that much is true. She’s been nothing but kind. But I guess no matter what I thought earlier tonight, old habits die-hard, because I can’t take it anymore. “Just tell me. Is this some kind of game to you all? Am I some kind of game?”
She’s out of her chair, her hair wild and swinging about her shoulders. “No.”
I stand up, too. She’s taller than me, but not by much. “Am I a pet then?”
Total shock flashes across her face.
“There is no reason I can think of that explains why I am being made the only exception.”
This has her grabbing my arm. “Stop! Just ... stop this right now. You want a reason?” She’s no longer the effervescent goddess from before, and I’m kind of glad for it. Because maybe now that ledge will finally break off already, and I’ll no longer have to wait for the inevitable. “I’ll give you the very best reason: my brother. Remember him? My brother is your reason.”
My breath sucks in.
Soft as they are, her words are filled with anger. “Are you telling me that you think you’re a game to him? A pet?”
“No,” I tell her. Because he is, as he always has been, the grand exception to everything.
Her anger fades somewhat as her fingers uncurl from my arm. Somebody comes into the room, but with one look at Aphrodite, the elderly satyr turns on her heels and leaves without a word. She takes a deep breath, waving her hands around her face like she’s drying her nails. “I’ve totally botched this. Look, I realize you ... distrust us. My psycho-bitch of a sister did something incredibly awful to you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “My uncle ... what he did was unforgiveable.” What appears to be genuine sadness fills her eyes. “As the Goddess of Love, you must believe me when I tell you that there is nothing I can say or do that will ever excuse those actions. I would never want to. It grieves me terribly to know that my family has abused innocents more times than I care to count. Please believe there are those of us in the Assembly who are trying to change things. Who don’t approve of such actions, who refuse to participate in them.” Her mouth, so wide and joyful with smiles at the start of the evening, is now a grim flat line. “Yes, you are the first person changed back who we’ve happened to take an interest in and have made efforts to get to know. You cannot be surprised that this is due to my brother. I’ll admit to it; but I’ll also admit that I trust Hermes implicitly. While the family often ...” She pauses, as if she’s choosing her words carefully. “Disagrees with one another, he and I have nearly always been on the same side. He is my favorite brother, Medusa. And to be completely honest, the only sibling I trust. So when he came and told me, told those of us he is close with, that an injustice had been done by our family and it needed to be rectified, I believed him. We believed him. He told us that you two had grown close—and when my brother tells me he trusts somebody, I take that seriously. Because he does not trust easily. None of us do, not in this shark-filled family.”
Well, don’t I feel like a total judgmental jerk once more.
“I am here tonight, because if my brother cares about you and wants you in his life, I will support him in this. I was sincere when I said I looked forward to getting to know you. I still do. I hope you would like to get to know me, too. That is, of course, your choice. It would please me greatly if we became friends. Not because you are an,”—her nose scrunches up—“ex-monster, or because you are a pet, or whatever else you fear you are to us.” She leans forward, tentatively reaching out for my still trembling hands. “You had every reason to go mad years ago. And yet ... you didn’t. You still have love in your heart. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with someone like that?”
I’m perilously close to breaking down in tears. All these years, I’ve been so distraught over the rumors about me, over how anyone could judge me without knowing me, and I am absolutely guilty of just the same.
The door opens again, bringing Persephone into the powder room. “Everything okay in here? You two have been gone a long time.”
When she looks at me and nods her head in the tiniest way, I realize Aphrodite is telling me that, no matter what I say right now, she will back me up.
Somehow or other, the ice is holding fast. And right now, in this moment, it’s also gone silent.
So I turn to Persephone and give her a tremulous smile. It’s small, but at least it’s not fake. “Yeah. I just ... I had an anxiety attack. It’s ... I guess the crowds got to me. I’m sorry that I’ve delayed our dinner.”
She’s immediately by my side, concern practically dripping off of her. “Anxiety attack?” Her eyes zero in Aphrodite. “What happened?”
I am so ashamed. My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes. I am hopeless at this. If she’d smote me during my attack, I wouldn’t have blamed Aphrodite. Goddess or no, I basically just accused her of lying to me, which isn’t friendly in the least.
No wonder I’ve only ever managed to make two friends.
“Nothing unexpected, Aunt.” She squeezes my hands and then stands up. “Medusa and I just had a heart-to-heart, and I think we understand each other the better for it.”
I stand up, too, wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry. I ... I’m not good at this.”
Persephone then steps forward and wraps her arms around me. I let my face fall against her shoulder as quiet sobs that I refuse to let break free shudder throughout me. It’s painful, but I just can’t lose control. Not here, not now.
“No one expects you to be, darling,” she murmurs, her hand gently stroking my hair. And as lovely a feeling as it is, as soothing as it is, this action from her feels completely different than when Hermes does it.
Why is that?
Aphrodite wraps her arms around me from the other side, so that I’m sandwiched in between these two women’s hugs. It’s a surprisingly comforting for someone suffering from extreme claustrophobia just a half hour before. We stay like that, hugging one another, until the shudders quell and the anxiety passes.
We don’t go back to the table; instead, the two goddesses lead me outside to where the car is already waiting. Talos, who’d been standing like a sentinel next to the rear door, comes forward so he can murmur something in Persephone’s ear; at the same time, Aphrodite says to me, “Would you be up for some company tomorrow? I could come over and we could just talk. Or, if that’s too much, watch a movie. Or take a walk in the groves. Or, play a board game. Lady’s choice.” Her smile reappears at the same time Hades and Hephaestus come outside.
The truth is, right now, all I want to do is crawl into bed. But I also think I like the idea of making a girlfriend. If she’s sincere, I’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity. Hermes adores Aphrodite; I’ve always heard wonderful things about her. If she wants us to get to know one another, maybe it’s time I become open to the possibility of letting somebody else in. Just as I’m about to tell her yes, Hades says in a stern tone that sends shivers up and down my spine, “Ladies, in the car. Now.”
Aphrodite’s head rears back, almost as if he slapped her. It’s clear she’s not used to being told what to do.
