6. Oceanid
Oceanid
It was my mother who thought up the name.
I remember it well, for it was the last time
she was not pregnant.
I had been a singular child running through
this diamond and ocean palace
for an untold era now, happy in my solitude.
But I had overheard my parents speaking
of their nephews and nieces,
how it would be good for me
if I was not the only one of my kind.
‘Styx is already strange,’ my father had said.
‘I do not wish for her to be alone.’
Perhaps I was becoming too unruly
even for my father’s old promise.
Too much for his comforts.
That day, Tethys walked into my father’s
underground chambers, the wings on her brow beating
as they always did when she was deep in thought,
and her long fingers wrapped around
my small, still plump hand, keeping me from running.
She said, ‘I have seen a vision.’
My father, who was crafting
a particularly tricky sea, looked up
to his wife, her silver curls flowing freely.
‘What did you see?’ All Titans knew to take
visions as prophecies now. Especially
after what had happened to Ouranos.
‘I saw your riverbanks full of children,
laughter everywhere in these gilded halls.’
My mother had a glow of pride as she said this.
My father stopped working.
‘How many children?’ he asked softly.
My mother’s smile widened.
‘Countless children, oh king of oceans,
further than my eyes could see.’
My father’s smile was like the sea
when the sun fell on its waters.
His eyes glittered like jewels
as he gazed at my mother.
‘You could not bestow me
with a greater gift, my queen.’
She nodded in return, her eyes misty.
They had wanted this a long time.
A vision was like permission for our kind.
‘Your sons are to be known as the Potamoi,’
my mother continued, ‘and your daughters
will be Oceanids, named after their powerful father.’
I saw a change in Oceanus in every word spoken.
His demeanour softened, the rigidity
with which he carried himself relaxed.
He walked toward my mother and pulled her
into an embrace. Her hand left mine
in that moment. It seems so strange
to think back to it now.
The way her hand left mine.
The way she never held it
with that kind of love again.