The Deep End of the Sea (5 page)

I head down to the edge of the wooden dock and call out, “Yassou, Mikkos!” The Girls hiss in excitement around me, waving their bodies in the air.

I am greeted in kind as the boat slows down in its approach. He is used to navigating toward my voice, which still dumbfounds me. How he has become so adept at sailing without his eyes is a true mystery; all Mikkos will say is that boats and the sea are in his blood, and that not even a loss of sight could keep him away from what he was born to do. I catch the line he throws me and loop it around one of the dock’s pillars. “What brings you out here?”

He grins up at me, his teeth gapped in a way that only endears one to him even more. “Do I need an excuse to visit my favorite girl?”

Sweet talker. “Of course not. It’s just, you said you had some doctor’s appointments, so I expected you to be there rather than here.”

He lifts up a box. “Yes, well, I realized it was a much better use of my time to come out to this comfortable island and share wine with a dear friend than sit and listen to all the things wrong with me.” I take his elbow and help him up onto the dock. “But, we can discuss that later. I have a treat for you that is time sensitive.”

I lead him up to the temple, to the patio he loves, especially now that hot sun graces our table. While he sets the box down, I head inside to gather a bottle of Cabernet he’d brought a few years back and a pair of tumblers. “Are you hungry?” I call out, a hand going to a plate of cheese and crackers I’d prepared earlier for a snack.

He is, so I stack everything on a tray and return outside, only to find him sitting with a tiny white kitten. I instantly rear back, terrified of turning a helpless creature such as this to stone, but Mikkos calls out, “It is blind, like me! Come, come—meet Mátia. My neighbor, she had kittens and this one was close to being put to death for what he was born with and could not help. I said to myself, ‘I know the perfect owner for this creature.’ And so here I am, with a friend for you.”

He holds out the tiny beast, and I stare at it in wonder. Its eyes are blue as the sea surrounding us, but their glassy stare settles nowhere in particular. I come closer, my hands trembling as they reach toward what has only been a dream in the past. The Girls whip around my head, frenzied—if I had to pinpoint an exact emotion they’re feeling, I’d say it was delight.

Excitement tingles across my skin. “Are you sure?”

“Quite.” Mikkos passes the kitten to me, and I hold it up, marveling at its softness as a large purr builds through its lungs. “Just as I thought,” comes my friend’s satisfied response. “He needs you just as much as you need him.”

I’d never had a pet before—not when I was younger, living with my family, and certainly not when I was a handmaiden for Athena. As animals are just as susceptible to my curse as humans, I’d shied away from them over the years, especially after a number of birds had frozen mid-flight and shattered as they freefell toward oblivion. Their deaths had been just as devastating, so I’ve obviously had a strict no animal policy for the isle (snakes on my head notwithstanding). And yet, here I am, holding a tiny kitten, and it is still alive as it snuggles closer to me. The Girls are enraptured, yanking my head down so they can take turns rubbing their small faces up against the soft fur.

As I stroke its tummy, I ask wryly, “Mátia, huh?”

He feels around until he finds the plates of crackers and cheese. “It seemed fitting.”

I can’t help but laugh at the irony of him naming this sweet creature
eyes
when its own are defunct.

He wipes cracker crumbs from his beard. “You can change it, if you like.”

I stare into the glazed orbs and smile; my heart fills with joy. He’s still here, still alive. Today is a day of most generous miracles. “I most certainly will not. I love this name.”

Mikkos grunts and pours us wine. I let him talk about inconsequential matters as I stroke my new pet until it falls asleep, sated and purring in my arms. And then I ask, because I love him so very dearly, “While I appreciate this little guy more than you will know, I am also concerned that you are here instead of being at the doctor’s. Has something happened?”

His blank eyes swivel toward me, like he can see me when I know it to be impossible. “What is it that they can tell me that I do not already know? I am old, and when you are old, things tend to fall apart in your body. I am no different than any of the people who have aged before me. My time is coming.”

I watch him sip his wine, tiny bits of panic lacing each breath I pull in and out. The Girls go still on my head. “What does that mean?”

His thin lips curl upwards, but I am not graced with the gap between his teeth. “It means that I choose to spend the time I’ve left doing things that make me happy. Coming here to visit an old friend makes me happy.” He sets his glass down on the table. “I wanted to bring you someone to remind you of me for when I’m gone.”

What is he saying? Does he have a terminal disease, like cancer? Or is it as he says, simply old age that fells what was mighty in their twilight? My voice is as fragile as my emotions when it leaves my lips. “I will always remember you, kitten or no.”

This pleases him, even though he acts like I’m being ridiculous. We stay on the patio and drink wine and eat cheese and crackers for hours more, and when the sun sets and Mikkos is too sleepy to captain his boat, I lead him to my bed and tuck him in. It is the first time in all our years together that he stays the night, but now, more than ever, I will not fight for him to leave.

When I come back out to the terrace to clean up, I find Hermes lounging in Mikkos’ chair, rubbing his nose to Mátia’s pink one. It’s a lovely sight, one that acts like a fist around my heart, but it’s also unwelcomed thanks to the element of surprise. Luckily, his back is to me, so I can rush back inside to find my sunglasses. I want to rail at him for being so reckless, but it would wake Mikkos. So I wait until I’ve got the Girls under wraps and the glasses firmly in place before I head back outside. “Are you crazy?”

He turns to face me, his smile nearly blinding me in the candle and starlight around us. “When did you get a kitten?”

The Girls hiss in excitement, waving around underneath my scarf like they want to share the story. I hush them and tell Hermes, “Mikkos brought it to me today.” I reach down to scratch Mátia’s head in his arms. “It’s blind, so it is forever safe from my curse.”

As annoyed as I am for his blatant disregard for his own safety, stars above, it is good to see Hermes tonight.

“I am inordinately annoyed with myself for never considering such a thing prior to tonight. To be bested by an old mortal!” He chuckles, passing the kitten over to me. “Is that him I hear snoring in your chambers?”

I laugh ruefully. “I’m afraid we had too much wine, and I didn’t think it safe for him to travel by himself at night.”

“You realize that, day or night, it is no difference to him, right?” He selects a scrap of cheese off the plate. “His remaining senses, honed by the loss of sight, exceed your own. Mikkos could steer his boat in a tempest and still make it back to the mainland in one perfect piece.”

Mikkos and Hermes have never met one another, but it does not mean Hermes does not know all about my friend. “I realize that, it’s just ...” I allow myself the luxury of pressing a kiss on the kitten’s head; I’m rewarded with a contented squeak. “I’m worried about him.”

Hermes says nothing, but he doesn’t have to. The understanding and sympathy in his eyes lets me know what he thinks of this. I can’t help but wonder if he knows when Mikkos’ time will be up, but I will never ask.

He pops the last bit of cheese into his mouth. “You will never have to worry about such a matter with me.”

And yet, I do, each time he is with me. It’s a bitter conundrum I’m faced with—do I selfishly continue to put Hermes at risk so I may have him in my life, or do I force him away for his own good yet lose the person that means the most to me? I focus on the kitten’s paw, now batting haphazardly at one of my fingers. “I suppose that is a perk of having a friend who is an immortal.” But as I do not want to think of Hermes ferrying Mikkos’ soul anytime soon, let alone lose Hermes, I ask, “Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat.”

He doesn’t have to eat—none of the gods do—but, as he told me once, it’s a social pleasure he enjoys partaking in.

“I’m fine, thanks.” He motions to the freshly empty plate in front of him. “I’ve stolen the rest of the crackers you left behind.”

I pretend outrage. “You are a thief, sir.”

He laughs, and I swear, his laughter is infectious. “Fine. I will bring you more crackers on my next visit.”

Speaking of ... “What brings you here tonight?”

The easiness so noticeable moments before slides off his face. And I know—just know. Something awful happened in the world today, and, as expected, Hermes would have been on the ground helping ferry souls to the Underworld. While this is not an uncommon occurrence, it’s not his favorite activity, either. I ask gently, “What happened?”

He runs his long fingers through his hair. “Bombings.”

It surprises me that an overwhelming yearning to reach out and touch his hand strikes me fast and hard, especially as just a few days ago we’d never touched. I ache to offer this comfort, but insecurity is a terrible fiend. I snuggle closer with the kitten; lucky little creature, to be so immune to the travesties of the world around it. “I am sorry to hear of this. I have not yet read up on the news of the world today. Did many people die?”

He nods gravely. “But let us not talk about such a tragedy—at least, not in this moment. You asked why I am here; the truth is, I wanted a distraction from the day’s events. So I thought to myself, it is time to attempt an experiment I’ve longed to try. Are you game?”

Awake now, Mátia escapes my arms and skitters across the table, sniffing out a bowl of cat food I laid out for it earlier. Mikkos was wise enough to come prepared with not only kibble and a collar with a bell on it, but a small bed for the kitten to sleep in. I reach out to keep him from going headfirst over the table. “What kind of experiment?” I ask warily.

I’m given a half-smile. “It’s time I meet the Girls in person.”

I sputter out my laughter. “Most definitely not.”

He pulls my wine glass over and drains it. “Why not?”

“Are you serious?” How could he even thinking of such a thing? I lean forward, a hand used as a wall, safely barricading Mátia. “Hermes. We have no idea if the Girls are just as cursed as I am.”

“There’s a chance they aren’t.”

They like this idea, as they twist in frenzy, hissing atop my head. I tap on the mass with my free hand.
Sorry, Girls. As much as you may want this, there is no way I am risking him.
“There’s a chance they are.”

The hissing turns most decidedly toward disapproval.

“Thus, the experiment. I’d like to see them.” He flashes me that smile of his that I swear must charm the entirety of Olympus. It’s nearly impossible to resist it myself, but the image of his stone body in my temple knocks me back to reality. “I think they’d like to see me, too. It’s not fair that Mikkos gets to pet them when I can’t.”

One of the Girls sneaks her little head toward the edge of the scarf. I poke her back before she gets too far. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound jealous over this.”

He leans forward, tracing the bottom of the wine glass with a finger. “Maybe I am.”

I outright laugh now. A god, jealous of a blind mortal? Impossible. “Don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t you just say I had no reason to worry about your death? And here you are, tempting it to happen simply because you want to
pet
my snakes?”

Much hissing escapes my scarf.

He chuckles. “Okay, perhaps not pet—but I certainly would like to meet them.”

I reclaim Mátia and snuggle him closer. If he’s unable to see to reason, then I must be the one to put my foot down. “You’ve met them already. You just want to see them. My answer is no.”

He’s incredulous. “No?”

I’m firm. “No.” The Girls go limp against my skull.

He pours himself more wine in my glass and sips it slowly. I fully realize that he could force me to show him what’s on my head—I’m painfully aware of just how at the mercy of the gods I am—but I do not fear this from him.

From any of the rest of Olympus, yes. But not Hermes.

“Would you mind explaining why?” he asks me once he’s drunk half the glass.

I tell him the truth. “I won’t risk you.”

As disappointed as he is, I think he is pleased by this answer, too.

I did not tell Mikkos about Hermes’ petition for the Assembly to review my case before he left Gorgóna. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my old friend—after all, he’s kept my presence a secret for years now—it was just ... I wasn’t ready to verbalize the possibility that Hermes has dangled in front of me.

But I think about it, constantly.

Over the next few days, I do my best to keep busy. I give my temple a thorough scrub down, making sure I dust each and every single statue on the isle. I attempt to train Mátia to use a litter box, although he is ferociously stubborn and prefers the small patch of grass just outside the south edge of the terrace. I graft several roses together in an effort to create a particular shade I’ve been dreaming of for years, a light maroon tinged with yellow. Mikkos is always able to easily sell my plants. I give myself a challenge and tackle yet another dialect; I practice Khoisan, the language of the Bushmen in Africa. The clicking sounds are difficult to form, but I am determined. Poor Mátia and the Girls are beside themselves as I converse in nothing but Khoisan for a solid two days. I bake like a madwoman, tweaking my recipe for chocolate chip cookies until I’m positive they could stand their ground in a baking competition. I give myself a new manicure every day. I rework a section of the garden on the north end of the temple, rearranging the plants and flowers until I’m satisfied.