Chapter XXI #3
I sit up straight, alert again. This is something I can talk about with ease.
“Athens is glorious,” I say honestly. “It’s so big, and there are so many people. I think you could spend days there and still not see all of it.”
“It sounds lovely,” says Euryale softly.
“The citizens really love to celebrate,” I go on. “I got to participate in a festival called Panathenaia, and my friend Apollonia—” I falter.
“What’s wrong?” Stheno asks.
I think of the last time I saw Apollonia’s face, the anguish in her cries. “One of my friends, another acolyte, was dismissed from service for something she didn’t do. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Oh, how sad!” says Euryale. “Stheno, will you pass me a bit of that rose oil?”
“She was one of the best acolytes,” I add as my sisters continue to do my hair. “And the way she was dismissed…It was awful.”
“I’m sure it was,” Stheno says distractedly. “Meddy, did you moisturize your hair at all while you were gone?”
I feel a brief hint of annoyance as my sisters continue to fuss over my locs, clearly unmoved about what I’m telling them.
Slowly, I realize that I can’t fault them for it.
My sisters don’t understand the significance of what I’m telling them because they can’t understand.
They have never left this island; everything I’m telling them must feel distant, abstract, irrelevant.
It’s a strange and sad revelation. All my life, my sisters and I have shared most of the same experiences, walked along the same path.
For the first time ever, I wonder if our paths have begun to diverge.
By the time my hair meets Stheno’s approval, it’s nearly noon.
My stomach growls as I think of lunch, but a better idea comes to mind, and I head to the gardens.
They’re as beautiful as I remember, and I take in the collective scent of so many flowers in bloom, the birdsong high above.
I can’t say exactly how I find Theo—my compass to him has always felt more like an instinct—but when I do, he’s sitting beneath the boughs of an old olive tree, carving away at a piece of wood.
Sunlight dapples his brown skin, and he’s wearing that look of focus I’ve so dearly missed. I wait a minute or two before I speak.
“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten to bring a new map for you. Could you forgive me?”
Theo looks up, and his eyes go wide. “Meddy!” He casts the carving knife and block of wood aside as he stands and closes the gap between us in a few strides.
I’m expecting a hug, but Theo takes it a step further, wrapping his arms around my middle and spinning me around until we’re both dizzy and laughing.
Even once we’ve stopped and the world isn’t blurred anymore, he’s still grinning.
“You’re back!” he says. “How long do you get to stay?”
“A week.”
“That means you’ve passed your tests so far.” He claps. “I knew you would!”
“You knew more than me, then.” More seriously, I add: “I’ve really missed you, Theo.”
“I’ve missed you,” he says with equal sincerity. His eyes fly up to my freshly retwisted locs. “I see your sisters have already found you.”
“They have.” I roll my eyes, though the gesture’s half-hearted.
“Good,” says Theo. “That means they won’t be waiting on you.” He settles back on the grass and pats a spot beside him. “Tell me everything.”
—
Talking with Theo about my time in Athens is much easier than it was to talk to my sisters.
In the month I’ve been gone, I almost forgot what an attentive audience my friend is.
Theo listens, laughs, and asks questions at all the right moments, never taking his eyes off me as I regale him with stories.
I try to describe what the Acropolis looks like, what the myrrh the priestesses burn smells like.
When I try and fail to explain the exact taste of the olives in the temple’s grove, my shoulders slump.
“I’m not doing a very good job of painting a picture for you,” I note. “I wish you could come see it all for yourself.”
Theo waves me off. “I can see it all in my head,” he insists. “Go on.”
I tell Theo about the first and second acolyte tests, and about Panathenaia. His face begins to fall when I tell him about Apollonia’s expulsion, and as I go on, a frown pulls the corners of his lips down.
“Wait,” he says, interjecting for the first time. “Are you telling me that Athena did that to one of her own acolytes?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “But it was Kallisto who told—”
“That’s so cruel.” Theo looks horrified. “And did she really blame Apollonia for her own attack? If so, that’s awful.”
“The Goddess cannot have servants who lack sound judgment.” The parroted words surprise me as they leave my lips, but I don’t take them back.
“But—”
“It reflects poorly on her, Theo. You wouldn’t understand.”
Theo opens his mouth, as if to argue, then seems to think better of it. “No,” he says thoughtfully. “I suppose I wouldn’t.” A strange silence hangs between us a moment before a smaller smile returns to his face. “Please tell me more, Meddy.”
I want to, but suddenly I don’t know what to say.
I can’t discern exactly what’s changed, but now I’m less keen to talk about Athena with Theo.
His critique of her, the horrified way he looked, make me feel defensive.
For the second time since my return home, there’s a sense of disconnect I can’t shake.
I realize that, like my sisters, Theo’s never going to truly understand the things I’m telling him because he’s never been to Athens.
“I’m a bit hungry, actually,” I say as I stand. “I’m going to go get some lunch, but I’ll find you later on, all right?”
Theo’s eyes are full of sadness. “All right, Meddy.”
I turn from him and leave the gardens without looking back.