“You go to one and I’ll go to the other. Grab some food and try to find us a ride. Preferably a trucker.”
“Why a trucker?”
“They’ll be going farther and they usually have a sleeper in the cab. You have money, don’t you?”
Odysseus nodded and pulled out his wallet. He gave her a ten and headed toward Dunkin’ Donuts. Athena walked into the McDonald’s side. There was a short line and a few of the people waiting were truck drivers, men with cheap ball caps, thin legs, and blue jeans pulled over cowboy boots. She glanced down at herself. She looked like total shit; if not like a criminal then at least like a runaway who’d had a rough couple of days. She buttoned her cardigan up as far as it would go to cover the bloodstains. The tears in her jeans might at least pass for a fashion statement.
When she got in line, she made sure to smile and nod at the guy in front of her. He was thirtysomething, with a goatee and mustache and a long, black mullet hanging down from his baseball cap. She checked the logo: New York Yankees. She smiled again; he turned around.
“You look like you’ve been on the road awhile,” he said with a nod to her clothes.
“Yeah,” she replied. “There was a sort of mix-up with my ride. A difference of opinion.”
He nodded and gave her an understanding smile.
“I wound up losing all of my bags. It’s been kind of a nightmare.”
“Well,” he said, and glanced up at the plastic, backlit menu. “To ease the blow, how about I buy you some lunch?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Athena replied. The restaurant had just switched over from serving breakfast and the smell of rubbery, overcooked eggs and cheese mingled with the grease of burgers. The smell was thick enough to coat her skin. She should have gone to Dunkin’ Donuts. As she opened her mouth to ask for a ride rather than lunch, Odysseus grabbed her by the elbow.
“Hey,” he said around a mouthful of chicken Parmesan flatbread. “I found us a ride.” He waved to the guy she’d been talking to, then looked at her. “Do you want to get food from here? I got an extra sandwich and some donut holes. We’re supposed to meet him in the lot. He drives a red Freightliner.”
* * *
“That was fast,” Athena said as they walked to the idling truck. Odysseus grinned. He always worked fast. Fast and clever. He opened the white paper bag. She fished out a donut hole and rolled it between her fingers, leaving a circular trail of sugar. She hadn’t eaten in a day, nothing at all except those few blackberries at The Three Sisters. She popped the donut into her mouth and it enlivened her taste buds. Her stomach rumbled, and she eyed the paper sack hungrily. He’d said something about an extra sandwich.
Odysseus waved at the driver through the window of the truck. He was older than the driver Athena had talked to, by a lot. His hair was gray, and he was heavy, maybe 260 pounds and still gaining. The buttons of his shirt looked like they were under extreme pressure. He smiled as they opened the door and climbed into the cab. Odysseus introduced her and she shook the driver’s hand. His name was Craig Melville, and he was doing a run from Minneapolis, with drops in Toledo and Buffalo. He could take them as far as that. After Buffalo, he’d drop his trailer and head for his home in Pennsylvania.
“Thanks again for the ride,” said Odysseus, and then, to Athena, “I told him what a jumble it’s been. He couldn’t believe that Jimmy actually got mad enough to leave us behind. But he doesn’t know Jimmy. Crazy bloke. I told you we shouldn’t have ridden back up to school with him.”
Athena smiled at Craig. “Well, I never thought he’d leave us either. I just hope he doesn’t throw our stuff out of the car before he gets to campus.”
Odysseus grinned. The lie came together naturally and nostalgia hit her in a warm wave. Side by side they were devious and slick.
“I wouldn’t worry about anything.” Craig checked his mirrors and situated his coffee thermos. “I’ve had plenty of crazy friends, and they always turn out right in the end. He’ll probably be damn sorry, the next time you see him.” He put the truck into gear and it jerked forward. He seemed nice enough. He told them about a few of his “crazy” friends; Athena listened and smiled while she ate the ham and cheese flatbread Odysseus had bought. While she chewed, weariness began to sink in again. The truck was nice and clean, and there was a sleeper in the back. She was about to ask Craig if she could use it when he tapped her on the knee.
“Hey,” he said gently. “You both look exhausted. Why don’t you sneak in the back and get some sleep? You’ll have plenty of time to keep me company after we get through Toledo.”
“Thank you,” she said, and was surprised by how much she meant it. It would have been nice to have something to give him in return, something more than a lie and polite conversation. She reached out for his hand. “You’re a very nice man, Craig,” she said. “I hope you have a lot of prosperity and good health.” Craig grinned, and they shook. When they touched, she thought she felt something small pass between them, some slight bit of warmth and electricity, moving from her skin into his.
Of course she might have imagined it. The blessing of a dying goddess probably wasn’t worth much. But at least she’d tried.
Odysseus held back the curtain between the cab and the sleeper. She lumbered into the back and sat down heavily on the small bed.
“Just give a shout if you want us to chip in for gas, or snacks or something,” Odysseus told Craig, then closed the curtain and sat down on the bunk.
“Should we talk now?” he asked softly. Whispering wasn’t necessary. Craig had turned on the strains of an oldies station, and the engine noise from the truck covered their voices well.
Athena sighed. “I’m exhausted. And what you’re going to tell me … I have a feeling is going to keep me up.” I don’t have time to be sleeping. I should make him talk now, so I can think of what to do next. I should make him talk now so I can dream battle plans, for fuck’s sake. Her mind’s arguments were weak. The soft bed spoke much louder.
“It can wait. We’ve got a long ride ahead.” Odysseus’ tender voice soothed her ears. But the concern on his face edged too close to pity.
He’s losing faith in my strength. I’m messing everything up. I can’t protect him. I have to be stronger, faster. I will be, as soon as I get some rest.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Odysseus said. “You don’t deserve it. Of all the gods on that damned hilltop, all of those vain, stupid prigs, you don’t deserve it. You never did.”
It hurt her heart that he gave her so much credit. She wasn’t something to be worshipped; she was something to be contended with. Everything that had gone wrong in his old life could have been blamed on her, or on some twisted member of her family. What did it matter if she tried to fix it? Fixing it was her responsibility. It had been then, and it still was now.
She watched him as he moved down to the floor of the sleeper, as he rolled up a sweatshirt from his bag for a pillow. This was the most time they had ever spent together all at once. In the old days, there had been more to her existence, things for her to do, and she’d dropped in on him only when she was needed. But she’d always watched. She had always made sure he was safe.
Will I fail this time? Will I finally have to watch him die, not in his bed an old man but young, and soon, and painfully?
Her tongue found the slowly healing wound on the roof of her mouth and twisted into it. Bitter tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
Without thinking, she reached down and put her hand on his arm. He jumped at the touch before letting himself be pulled up onto the bed.
It felt strangely natural, even though she had never in her long, long life slept beside a man. It went against everything her father had created her to be. And she’d never wanted it, until now.
Odysseus lay down uncertainly. He kept his eyes on her until his head hit the pillow and released his breath in a slow, nervous shudder. She felt his heartbeat, and heard it, fast and strong in his chest. Words were th
ere, between them, but they went unspoken. It was only moments before they were both deeply asleep.
* * *
When Athena woke, the truck was stopped, and the engine turned off. Something had jolted her awake. She waited and felt a soft jerk from somewhere behind them. It was the movement of the trailer, pulling the truck back as it was unloaded. That meant they were already in Toledo.
Athena looked around in the dimness. Only two shafts of light cut through a gap in the faux leather curtain dividing the sleeper from the cab, and even that light was gray. The weather must’ve turned overcast while they slept.
Odysseus stirred by her side and shifted against her hip. She tensed. The bed was small. They were completely wrapped up in each other. How had that happened? She’d been so deeply under it had felt like oblivion. He was lucky she hadn’t shoved him off onto the floor.
Why did I ask him here in the first place?
She couldn’t remember. A deep breath brought aftershave to her nose, and she didn’t know if it was his or Craig Melville’s. It was probably Craig’s. If it had been Odysseus, it would have smelled like cinnamon massage oil from The Three Sisters. The corner of her mouth twisted into a smile, and she pushed dark hair back off his forehead.
In the shadows, he looked softer, relaxed and innocent, the working of his brain reduced to slow clicks and whirrs. He looked almost harmless, almost gentle, nothing like the swashbuckling liar she knew he was. She leaned closer and studied the curve of his jaw, the easy pulse at his throat. His fingers rested on the small of her back; she’d turned men into stone for less. But she didn’t move. Something grew inside her chest and stomach, some new, unnamed need, unfurling and trying out its wings. She let herself press closer, and shivered.
This is what men risk so much for; this shiver, this acute heat and desire. This is what they think eternity feels like.
The words moved through her mind without warning. Thoughts like that were not meant for her. She was removed from it, completely outside the jurisdiction of Aphrodite’s lasso. But she had to admit it was intoxicating. It took over completely.
I should move away.
Except when she did move, it was her hand, slipping mindlessly up underneath the fabric of his shirt.
Even the touch of my ungainly hand makes him tremble. This is dangerous. It rebounds on everything. I’ve seen it ruin lives.
Athena held her breath, but couldn’t stop. Or she wouldn’t. Boundaries blurred as he woke beneath her hands. His fingers squeezed down on her hip. His eyes opened.
Odysseus pushed the veil of her hair back and drew her closer, nothing but the sound of his quickened breath and moving fabrics in her ears. He was practiced and she was new, the Don Juan of the Aegean and the Virgin Goddess, but it was all instinct, all sensation and response. The heat of his tongue, the firm strength of his body and the way he moved her, they might have done it all a hundred, a thousand times before.
This isn’t real, this feeling. I’m not made for this.
He rolled her onto her back, their fingers entwined. The desperation in his movements filled her with a strange sense of power, and the way he shook and sighed. In her mind an image flashed from long ago: Odysseus in the middle of an ocean, standing on the deck of a ship. He stared out over the water, his expression determined but desolate, skin bronzed by decades of sunlight far from home. He grasped onto the ship’s railing and shouted something, the same word, three times. Penelope. Penelope. Penelope. He screamed for his wife, the wife he loved and continually tried to return to. The ship’s hull had been painted with a depiction of Athena’s eyes.
“Athena,” Odysseus whispered, and kissed her neck.
It was just an image. One brief flash. She didn’t even know if she had really seen it, or if it was her own invention. Penelope was dead, she had to be, she’d used up all her devotion two thousand years ago. And besides, it didn’t matter. Athena was a goddess. She took from mortal women as she liked. Odysseus was hers. He always had been.
Stop. Stop this. Those are Aphrodite’s words, Aphrodite’s justifications. Penelope might be gone but I’m not. He and I are separate. Divided. Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I give up what I am.
“Stop,” Athena whispered. Odysseus’ arms clenched tight around her, his fingers in her hair.
“Stop,” she said again, and when he hesitated she shoved him, harder than she wanted to. His shoulder struck the wall over the foot of the bed.
It was embarrassing. She could see the mortified expression he wore in the shadows as she pulled herself up.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what happened. We were asleep—I half thought I was dreaming!” His hands moved roughly over his face. “Look, just don’t do anything drastic, all right? Don’t turn my eyes to stone in my head or—” He glanced downward. “Or anything worse.” He leapt up and turned toward the curtain. “I’m going to go find a soda or something. I’m sorry.”
He pulled back the curtain and light cut through the sleeper.
“Odysseus,” she said, and he paused. “It’s all right. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He wouldn’t look at her. She hadn’t thought he would be so ashamed. He acted like he’d been cut open.
“Don’t feel so bad.” She tried to smile. It had been her fault. She should say something to make it right. “This is—well—it’s what you always do.”
“What I always do?” he asked, and his eyes darkened. “What I always do. Like on Circe’s island, you mean. Or dallying with Calypso.”
Athena blinked. When he was angry, his accent got thicker. Her neck stiffened as he pointed a finger at her.
“That was a bloody lifetime ago.”
“I was trying to make you feel better.”
“Feel better? By making me sound like a dog? It was thousands of years ago!”
“I found you two days ago in a naked tangle of whores!” Her mind winced at defaming the witches of The Three Sisters, but she couldn’t take it back. They were nice whores, very lovely people, but she was trying to make a point. “I suppose that was just an innocent game of Twister in between readings from Macbeth?” She held up her hands before he could explode. She used to be so good at de-escalating. But then she never would have allowed herself to be in this position. “I’m not saying that it’s wrong. I never judged you. I was never even annoyed; I was amused, mostly—”
Odysseus shook his head. It wasn’t helping.
“Don’t you get it?” he asked. “This is different. You’re not like them.”
Athena swallowed. Not like them. No, she wasn’t like them. She wasn’t beguiling. Enchantments and seductions were mysteries to her. They were ridiculous wastes of time. A heavy feeling built in her chest, just at the base of her throat. The image of Aphrodite’s golden apple rippled into her mind. To the Fairest, it had said.
“I’ve always shown you respect,” Odysseus finished lamely, and she looked away. He said her name and got no response. She might as well have been a statue. So he turned and left, slamming the door of the cab behind him.
* * *
Athena stepped out of the Freightliner and took a breath of Toledo. It smelled about the same as South Bend, only colder. The wind had come up too, and it whipped her hair into her eyes. She couldn’t tell what time it was. The clouds blocked out the sun.
They were parked in the loading dock of a long, navy blue and white warehouse. Half a dozen other trucks were lined up beside Craig’s, a few of them idling, most of them turned off. Workers passed by on forklifts, moving pallets of white boxes. She looked around. Odysseus hadn’t made it far. He stood about fifty feet away, near the hot lunch truck, talking to the driver while he ate a hot dog. She walked up behind him.
“Once you start eating you just don’t quit.”
He turned. Uncertainty floated over his features, like he still half-expected to be turned into a toad. He cleared his throat and his brows lifted.
“I’m a bottomless pit.
Can I get you anything?”
“Maybe just a Coke.”
He paid the worker and handed her a cold can. Athena walked away and motioned with her head for him to follow, past the line of parked trucks and over to the end of the lot, where a lonely picnic table stood in the middle of dead brown grass.
“Well,” he said and threw a leg over the bench, “this is awkward.”
“Talking about why Hera and Poseidon are after you?” Athena asked lightly. “Why would that be awkward? Is it that awful?”
She looked him in the eyes. Deal with the problem at hand. The rest we can worry about later.
Odysseus nodded slightly and Athena took a long drink of her soda.
“You know what they’re doing, don’t you?” he asked.
“Looking for tools to help them eat us, you mean?”
He gave her a weird look, and she waved her hand.
“I don’t think the eating part is literal. But who knows? They’re just trying to save their own skins.”
“For them to live, other gods have to die.”
Athena nodded. “So everyone keeps saying. Though nobody seems to be able to say why.”
Odysseus shrugged. “Because that’s the way that it’s been fated to happen. No one escapes Fate. Not a single one of us, after we’re born. Not even you.”
Athena rolled her eyes. He sounded like her father. “So why even bother fighting? If we’re fated to lose, then we lose. If we’re fated to win, then one way or another, we’ll come out on top. Right?”
“Don’t get philosophical on me. For the record, I don’t believe in Fate. I believe that the pieces have been placed. The ending hasn’t been written yet.”
Athena ground her teeth. She did believe in Fate. It was almost impossible not to, after having the king of the gods drive it into her head for so long. But she’d always hated it. It made her feel powerless. Why people saw it as a comfort, she would never understand.
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