by Melody Rose
Mom even had the audacity to eye me. She knew about my feelings for Ansel, thanks to one rather drunken evening early in the summer.
“I told her that she should hold out until they’re both proper soldiers, and then she should bang him,” Mom said with a casual shrug.
“Mom!” I cried, embarrassed.
Violet’s mouth popped open like she’d just scooped up some juicy gossip, whereas my face pinched into something pained and mortified that Mom would be so blunt and crass in the middle of a public place and in front of my friend. But then again, my mom was wearing an ugly mumu in the middle of a public place and in front of my friend. I should really stop being surprised by anything she did.
“What?” Mom replied with a second shrug. “You don’t want to get kicked out. I get that. So give it a while, let the tension build, and then have at it. He’s very attractive.”
“No, he’s not,” I said, my false words coming out as a squeak.
“Cheyenne,” Violet said with the cock of her head. “He is really hot, and he’s into you.”
“He’s been into you since he met you,” Mom added.
“I wish I had someone that into me,” Violet said, with a hint of jealousy in her voice. “Soldier or no soldier, it would be nice to be looked at the way that Ansel looks at you.”
“Can we stop talking about Ansel?” I asked, not wanting to hear any more about how hot Ansel was or how he looked at me. I didn’t think my aching heart could handle another word.
“Fine,” Violet said.
“Thank you,” I replied, opening my eyes again with a sigh.
“But you better figure out how to talk about him, and more importantly, to him,” Violet said with a pointed finger in my direction. “Because he’s going to be the one escorting us back to campus next week.”
“That’s going to be the first time you’ve seen him since the summer, isn’t it?” Mom double-checked.
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “By the way, this talking about Ansel thing is the exact opposite of not talking about Ansel.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Violet said, apparently letting go of the subject, albeit reluctantly. She reached for her bags but first handed Mom her basket. “Why don’t you walk me back to your booth? I want to see where you set up shop.”
Gratefully, the three of us made our way back down the street, through the Farmer’s Market, toward the south end where my booth was. Khryseos and Argyreos led the way, clearing a path for us with their imposing presence. Every so often, a kid would approach and want to pet them, which I always said yes to. The dogs loved the attention and always relished in it, as if I never paid them enough.
“Hams,” I muttered as a pair of brunette twins, no more than seven years hold hung around their necks, and the dogs licked the sides of their face, sending a spray of giggles into the air.
As we continued walking, we chatted about our summers, and Violet told me about spending time with her dad and stepmom. She did what she could to get out of the house and couldn’t wait to get back to the Academy.
“I love my stepmom, I really do,” Violet would assure me, “but when they had my half-siblings, I became more distant. They’re so much younger than me, and I don’t know how much I fit into their family anymore.”
“You know, Violet,” Mom said as she slung an affectionate arm over my roommate's shoulder. “If you ever want to stay with us over the holidays, you’re more than welcome to.”
“Really?” Violet said with wide and hopeful eyes.
“Absolutely,” Mom said with confidence.
Violet looked at me for confirmation, knowing that while my mom might be so generous, I might be uncomfortable with the idea. But I felt the exact opposite.
“Yeah!” I agreed enthusiastically. “You’re always welcome.”
“I might take you up on that this year,” Violet said, red coming to her cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and joy.
“Just let me know,” Mom said with a one-shoulder shrug, and she released Violet after giving her a slight squeeze.
“Oh!” Violet said suddenly, surprising all of us. “There’s the cool booth where I got all my seeds.”
My roommate pointed at a booth with two tents pushed together to make the booth longer. There was a long row of tables bursting with fresh fruits, all organized by type. On the very end, however, was a nice and neat section with raised displays, like mini stairs, to show off all the packets of seeds.
People wove in and out of the booth, bumping into each other to get the best items. Workers on the other side of the table raced to fill the fruit baskets as they rapidly went from the table to the hands of customers. They were running a spectacular deal: Fill a bag for ten dollars. The booth provided the bags, which weren’t any larger than the bag a newspaper came in, but if one was strategic about it, they could fit some quality stuff in there.
As my eyes gazed over the crowd, I locked eyes with an unfamiliar but eerie woman. She had the blackest hair I had ever seen in my life, looking like a cloak of midnight surrounding her head. It was tied into a long braid that hung over her shoulder, like a prairie girl. Her face was long, almost horse-like, but when she offered me a slight half-smile, it brightened her up. She wore no hat or sunglasses, and her clothes fit tight around her shapely body. Her whole ensemble was way too fashionable to be at this market, especially amongst the throng of shorts, sandals, and flannel.
Even though I would have sworn I never saw the woman before in my life, she grinned at me. Then, surprising me completely, she winked at me knowingly. Before I had a chance to call out or ask something of her, the woman turned and walked into the crowd of patrons.
I blinked a couple of times, but still, the image of the woman remained like a stain on the carpet. There was a tug at my pants, and I looked down. Argyreos was at my side, pawing at my leg.
“Sorry, boy,” I said as I gave him a soft pat on the head.
The dog cocked his head at me as if to ask, “Something bothering you?”
“Just thought I saw someone I recognized,” I said aloud, though the dog, while he did have magical powers, wasn’t really talking to me at all.
I beckoned him onward, and the pair of us weaved through the crowd to catch up with Violet and my mom.
3
The last week of summer passed by in a blur. I spent most of the time with my mom, helping her prep her classroom and the first couple of weeks of lessons. It was fun getting to go over a fourth-grade lesson plan, like being in elementary school all over again. That was way more appealing than the prospect of going back to college courses.
Still, the day had finally come for me to meet Ansel and the rest of the students in our area so we could head to the Academy. Unfortunately, none of us students knew where the Academy was precisely. It was a well-kept secret for the protection of the Academy and the students. Only graduated soldiers and administrators knew the exact location.
That was how Esme was able to let in a group of harpies last year over Christmas break. Rumor had it that security had significantly tightened up since that attack. Good, as it had been one of the first and definitely the most devastating in the Academy’s history.
The letter I had gotten a couple of months ago explained how we were to get to the school. We were to meet everyone at a remote bus stop just outside of town, the exact geographical coordinates listed. That was when I learned you could type latitude and longitude in Google Maps, and it would still give you directions. Believe it or not, my mom taught me that.
We were in the car, with only a backpack and a small duffle packed for me. We had very specific uniforms that we were supposed to wear at the Academy, including the sashes that signified our rank. I figured I would be getting my second-year sash, a red one with a black line running down the center, when I got to campus.
I kept my three sets of uniforms clean and folded over the course of the summer. I also packed a couple of pairs of civilian clothes for weekends, the onl
y times we were allowed to be casual on campus. Also in my bags were a picture of Mom and me, some simple dog supplies like the stuffed monkey Khryseos liked to carry around, and a new leather apron I’d splurged on with some of my Farmer’s Market tips.
Honestly, Khryseos and Argyreos took up more room than anything I was bringing to campus. The two of them huddled up against one another and slept soundly to the smooth rhythms of the car while Mom and I drove to our designated drop spot.
It was a quiet ride, filled with bittersweet moments. I wanted to say something profound and memorable, especially since the last time I left, it had been so quick and sudden. While we had survived that year apart, the anticipation of this one ate at me more.
“You’re worrying again,” Mom said without looking over at me in the passenger’s seat. She brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. “I’m going to be fine, you know.”
“I know you are. I’m worried about me,” I said with a hint of a joke in my voice.
“Hardy har,” Mom responded, not really laughing at all. She reached over and patted my knee. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Maybe I won’t get drafted, and then I’ll get to come home,” I said. Part of me was kidding, and part of me was more hopeful of that outcome than I would have admitted.
“If you come home before Christmas break, I will be sorely disappointed in you, young lady,” Mom said with mock scolding. “It’s going to be a great year for you. I just know it.”
I leaned my head in my hand and stared out the window, to the rushing cornfields as we drove through what appeared to be the middle of nowhere on an empty two-lane road. Memories of her weirdness when she was singing the silly song came back in a rush. I’d tried to bring it up over the past week, but like Violet’s interruption, things just kept happening, and we never got around to talking about it. Something told me that if I was going to mention it, now would be the time to do so.
“Mom,” I said, hesitation apparent.
“Yes?”
“I know you said you don’t remember your silly songs,” I said, not knowing out to start. “But, like, how do you feel when you sing them?”
Mom’s eyebrows curled together. “That’s a weird question, Cheyenne. I don’t really know how to answer it.”
“Can you try?” I prompted. I glanced over at her, though she kept her eyes on the road ahead, like the responsible driver that she was.
“Well,” Mom said, cocking her head to one side as she thought. “I guess I feel good, most of the time. They are often funny, so I feel goofy. Is that what you mean?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I guess I mean, how do you come up with your lyrics? Your ideas for the songs?”
“Well, you can thank my theatre degree for that,” she said with a joking smile. Mom dramatically flipped her hair over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Being a comedic act-tor and all. It takes skill, talent, and practice.”
“But they’re not always funny,” I said, trying to get her to talk about it a little more seriously.
“Jeez, thanks, kiddo,” Mom said, a little offended.
“No, I mean,” I said quickly, trying to right my wrong, “sometimes they are rather serious. And ominous.”
“Sometimes, that’s just how they come out, I guess.” Mom shrugged. “Where’s all this coming from, honey?”
“It’s just...” I let out a huge puff of air, unsure of myself. I’d always been honest with my mom. No matter how weird or out there that my thoughts seemed, I shared them with her. She never judged me or placated me. Mom was a good listener and often gave good advice when she could. I didn’t know why this was so difficult for me to say, probably because I didn’t really know what I was saying.
“This last song you came up with…” I said, still finding the words as I spoke. “It was… different from other ones.”
“How so?” Mom asked, intrigued.
“It was… scary?” I tested out that word, and it didn’t quite feel right. “Like you were foreshadowing something, and it wasn’t a good something.”
Mom paused in order to process what I was saying fully. She rolled her fingers around the steering wheel and moved them from the ten and two position to have one hand in her lap, and the other casually gripped the bottom of the wheel. Her lips twitched like she was trying to find her own words.
“What did I say?” Mom wondered.
“It was mostly about school and me,” I said, trying to remember the exact wording and not just how it made me feel. “How this year was going to go, something about love, an infection, stuff like that.”
“Doesn’t sound all that pleasant,” Mom said with a frown. “It also sounds like I joked about STDs, which isn’t something I normally bring up.”
“Mom!” I said, the embarrassment eeking out of my voice even when it was just the two of us in the car.
“I’ll be sorely disappointed in you if you get one of those too, okay?” she said as she pointed directly at me, giving only a sideways glance.
“Mom!” I repeated, my voice jumping an octave.
Khryseos and Argyreos perked up at once in the back, as if I had called them directly with a whistle. I spent a minute or two calming them back down and reassuring the dogs that I was fine, just annoyed. Mom giggled at their reaction and stifled a full-on laugh right when they settled back down.
“What?” I asked her.
“They just really are your guardian angels,” Mom said affectionately. “I’m so glad you have them.”
“Me too,” I said as I looked back at the two resting pups. “Do you know that according to mythology, they were originally crafted out of silver and gold by Hephaestus to guard King Alkinous’s palace?”
“I did not know that,” Mom said slowly, taking in all of the information I just dumped on her. “Well, I’m certainly glad that you didn’t get two metal robot dogs. That would have been more difficult to explain to the landlord.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “It would have been less comfortable to sleep with them in the same bed too.”
“I’m sure!” Mom related. “Thank goodness your dad had enough sense to turn them mortal or at least mortal looking before sending them to the Academy.”
I paused, thinking about how to respond. One of the very few things I hadn’t told my mom about my life was about my dad’s disappearance. According to the officials on campus, Hephaestus had been missing for the last twenty or so years, right after I was born. He’d gone missing in my hometown, which seemed like too big of a coincidence to ignore.
On the one hand, I wanted to tell Mom in case she found comfort in the notion that he might not have been absent in my life by choice. Something might have happened to him, preventing him from being a part of my childhood. On the other hand, I didn’t want to worry her. Despite the fact that she was a mortal woman, and he an immortal god, Mom really cared about Hephaestus. I could tell in the way she spoke about him. That love had never really gone away. I liked to think that he felt the same way about her. Due to his lack of recent offspring, it would seem that he hadn’t loved anyone else, at least in some time.
Ultimately, I decided against telling her. I didn’t really know the whole story, and I felt like it would be a waste of her time. What was she going to do about it, anyway? She’d moved on in her life, raised a daughter without him, and built a world that didn’t include him. There didn’t really seem to be a point to letting her know that she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard from him in twenty years.
Smartly, Mom turned on the radio, and the two of us bopped along to some oldies on a local rock radio station. It got our minds off the impending goodbye and allowed us to just be ourselves, Cassie and Cheyenne, one more time before I went away to the Academy.
We approached the designated spot sooner than I would have liked. It was an abandoned gas station with the price still reading something close to a dollar. The paint peeled off the walls, blown away by time and weather. Stray spray
paint streaked across the windows, some of which were boarded up by large slabs of wood. The pumps themselves were coated in rust, and the hoses were disconnected.
There was no other business for miles, and the surrounding area was completely covered in cornfields. Mom and I hesitated before getting out of the car.
“Did we just walk onto the set of a horror movie?” I asked, unsure.
“I drove to where the GPS said.” Mom pointed at the phone like she was blaming it for the current predicament. “Are you sure you put it in right?”
I pulled out the letter from the Academy and scanned it. I compared the numbers in her phone and on the paper. “It’s correct.”
“Well then, we’re here,” Mom announced, though her voice held little to no celebration.
Despite our confirmation that we were in the right place, neither one of us got out of the car. Even Khryseos and Argyreos stayed put, choosing to look out the windows rather than demand to be let out. The four of us stayed put and waited for any other signs of life.
We watched a light breeze sway the corn stalks and blow up a small tornado of dust. A literal tumbleweed rolled past, out of one field and into the next.
“What time were you supposed to be here?” Mom double-checked, doubt creeping into her voice. “Are we sure this is the right day?”
“Yes, Mom,” I said, getting impatient. “I’m sure it’s right.”
“Well, why don’t you just check, okay?”
“Because I already checked, and it’s correct.”
“Please look again.”
“I already did!”
“Give your mother a little peace of mind.”
“Trust me, Mom, it’s right.”
“Okay, fine, let me check.”
“You don’t need to check!”
A sudden bark from the back seat broke through the heat of our impending argument. Khryseos and Argyreos rushed to the passenger side of the car, tumbling over my luggage, and barked again at the window.
“What is it, boys?” I asked the dogs, and they barked a third time in response.
