Protogenesis: Before the Beginning

by Alysia Helming

  “No, I did not!” he seems affronted. “You had the idea!”

  It’s true. He’s right. Somehow, I have boxed myself into this silly dare. But I’m not one to back out of anything. What am I afraid of any way? This is something that is normal in Europe! The only reason it’s a big deal is that it is new for me. Maybe I can do it under certain conditions. “Fine, it’s a dare…,” I declare, “but only if I do it at night when no one can see me.”

  “Fair enough,” he seems a little surprised, but also relieved, like he doesn’t want another confrontation with me. “It’s settled then. We have a deal.”

  13 – Clarke’s Third Law

  It’s getting late. Even though there were plenty of opportunities for Nick to make a move, he hasn’t yet, so I’m feeling a bit confused about his intentions with me. Back at his apartment, he was talking about marriage, and now…nothing?

  “Hey…” his voice is soft like velvet, as he turns towards me. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Uh, nothing…”

  “You sure?” he says as he wraps his arms around my waist, drawing me in so close that we’re staring at each other’s lips. It takes my breath away. Everything around us seems to freeze, suspending time. My heart quickens in anticipation of what is coming next. He’s moving in closer…then closer…then…

  Stink breath. I step backward.

  Nick’s face falls and grows red. He throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I brushed my teeth like five times!” He frowns, brow furrowed in frustration.

  I nod silently, not knowing what to say, feeling horribly guilty. I just so totally ruined the moment, screwed up big time.

  His frown deepens as he stares at the ground. “Uh, I should get going.”

  This is bad. I’ve got to do or say something quick to salvage this.

  “Hey,” I stammer, “I didn’t—”

  He cuts me off, his eyes cool and indifferent. “No, it’s fine. Besides, I wasn’t actually going to….” But he doesn’t finish. He looks out to the street and steps away.

  I touch his arm and offer, “Wait…since you showed me where you live before, maybe you should come upstairs to my place?”

  He regards me carefully. “It’s really getting—”

  I cut him off. “But you could meet my crazy godfather.” I give him a genuine smile. “I know you want to.”

  He doesn’t budge. I’m sure he’s going to say no, but then as his eyes greet mine, a cautious smile slowly forms as he says, “Uh, okay.”

  I sigh. Crisis averted, at least for now.

  As I lead him inside the dark shop and up the stairs to the apartment, I’m counting on Janus being asleep by now. But as we enter the apartment, not only is Janus wide awake, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, snorting some sort of white powdery substance up his nose.

  Is that cocaine?! Seriously?

  I try to reconcile Janus’s obsessively healthy habits with this sight. At least it might explain some of his bizarre mood swings, but with all his preaching about health and wellness, what a hypocrite!

  Nick raises an eyebrow as he takes in the scene. I shake my head at him with a look that says I will explain this later. God only knows what he’s thinking now. Of course, I have no idea how to explain it. Maybe “My godfather is a cokehead”? This night is turning out to be a total disaster.

  Janus unapologetically wipes his nose. Instead of being defensive, embarrassed, apologetic, or demonstrating any sort of reaction, he acts like snorting drugs is a normal part of life for him. As I start to ask about it, his eyes grow wild, and he turns the tables on me.. “I told you…no boys allowed here!!”

  Nick’s face falls. This isn’t going to be a friendly introduction. He starts to back away towards the open doorway and surprises me with a knowing look. “Consider us even now. My mom is totally nuts too. You saw that.” He grins. “I’m looking forward to our dare. See you in five days…next Friday! I’m counting on you!”

  My eyes widen. The Dare. I forgot all about it. Five days seems so far away considering all that has happened to me in the past two! For now, I’m just psyched that Nick wants to see me again after the stink breath almost-kiss.

  He barely makes it out into the hallway when Janus grows irate, yelling at the top of his lungs, “You need to get out…now!”

  He slams the door in Nick’s face with a violent thud.

  Just because Janus is a drug addict does not mean that he can treat people badly, especially not my friends. “Hey!” I scream. “Nick’s not just any boy; he’s our neighbor! He was coming up here because he wanted to meet you. Do you have to be so awful to everyone?”

  “I’m not awful to everyone.” Janus straightens his head scarf, suddenly appearing calm and serene, like Oprah. “Obviously, you haven’t attended one of my yoga classes yet, or you would know that.” It drives me crazy that he can shift his mood on a dime like that. I literally never know which side of Janus I’m going to see.

  “I was pleasantly surprised to come in tonight to see that you went grocery shopping.” His expression is easy, almost smiling, if that’s even possible. “And what’s this?” He picks up a book in his hand. “It looks like you bought a Greek cookbook?”

  I forgot all about my shopping adventure the other day.

  I was going to make Janus dinner! Was trying to distract him about the iPad device. No need for that now, but it might be good for me to cook something before the food goes bad. Even though it’s late now, I can hear my stomach grumbling. During my date with Nick, we forgot to eat! I grab the cookbook out of Janus’s trembling hand.

  His eyes narrow in suspicion. “But here’s what doesn’t quite compute for me, Helene. Where did you get the money to buy this stuff?” His voice grows harsh and stern. “You broke into my safe, didn’t you?”

  I wanted to do something nice for him, and this is how he acts? Unbelievable! I try to ignore him. I leaf through the cookbook, to the page marked with the recipe, and am pleasantly surprised that it only takes a few minutes to prepare. The recipe reads, “seared glossa ntakos.” It’s a white, flat fish with chopped tomatoes and onions served over barley rusks. I start pulling the ingredients out onto the countertop.

  “You didn’t answer my question!” Still quiet, I unwrap the fresh fish, not making eye contact. He grabs my arm. “I expect you to pay attention when I’m talking to you!”

  This sets me off. As the queen of confrontation, I’ve never been good at ignoring anyone. I wrench my arm out of Janus’s fierce grip, raising my voice to him. “I was trying to make you dinner, to do something nice for you for once!” My eyes grow wide, upset. “You wanna know how I got the money?” I challenge him. “That attorney, Harold Avery, left me some money in the pocket of my backpack. It was only a little bit, but it’s certainly more than you’ve ever given me!”

  The frantic chaos that consumes Janus’s eyes suddenly fades out, and now I see something I didn’t think possible…he looks sorry. He holds his hands up. “Look, I…” his eyes fill with compassion. “I’m just not used to anyone ever doing anything for me. In all of my years living here, no one, not even your mother, has made dinner for me. I guess I have a hard time seeing the good in people, always assuming the worst.”

  This is a shock. I can’t imagine that my mother would not want to cook for Janus. She made me food all the time. While this doesn’t add up for me, something in Janus’s pained expression makes my heart reach out to him. I want to believe everything he says. My face softens as I offer, “Well, okay. Look, why don’t you let me cook for you?”

  Janus softens into a little boy. It’s unexpected, quite disconcerting. I continue with a disclaimer. “I
have to warn you, though; this is my first time attempting Greek cuisine, so I’m not sure how it will turn out. Usually, I only know how to boil water or use the microwave.”

  We both chuckle for a moment; then he studies the recipe. After a moment, when he speaks, his voice is encouraging. “Incidentally, I haven’t eaten yet, so I’m rather looking forward to it.”

  The fish has been thawing. I unwrap it, set it aside, and start chopping tomatoes. Janus says, “So here’s the deal. I haven’t seen your mother in twenty-one years. From what I recall, Diana didn’t have a uterus, so I’m not sure how you came about.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Adoption?”

  I shake my head.

  “Immaculate conception?”

  I laugh. “No, silly, I’m the product of in-vitro fertilization, with assistance from a sperm donor and a surrogate.”

  “Oh yes, silly me, of course I should have guessed that,” he says with an edge. “Well, that’s a real mouthful. Your mother told you all about it, then?” He is incredulous.

  I nod enthusiastically. “Well, yes. She was a firm believer in telling the truth, no matter what.”

  He nods as if he agrees with me, but his eyes betray him, like perhaps he knows something that I don’t. Maybe she didn’t tell me everything.

  A thought suddenly crosses my mind. “Janus, it was nice of you to just go along with the godfather story for my benefit. But why would you do that for me?”

  “Oh, I’m not doing it for you,” he says wistfully. “Diana was very…special. I would do anything that she asked of me.”

  “Oh,” I say. He told me before that they weren’t romantic, and I’ve just heard that she never cooked for him when she lived here. Weird. “So just how special was my mom to you, then?” I try my best at a joke. “I saw your book about tantric sex, you know. What exactly is that?”

  “That is my private business!” he says tersely.

  Oh no, now he’s going to get all worked up again. I try to keep my expression neutral, but suddenly I feel the burning urge to crack up and laugh hard. I fight this impulse for as long as I can, but then I can’t hold it any longer, so I burst out in loud obnoxious laughter right in his face.

  “You’re making fun of me, you smug brat!” He looks spurned, as I’ve clearly caught him on a sensitive topic.

  Suddenly, Bastet leaps up onto Janus’s lap, tail curved up behind her, twitching directly into his face. He yelps and grabs the cat around her torso and tosses her down on the floor. “Damn cat!”

  I see the amber cat’s-eye stone on the front of Bastet’s collar. Janus continues on and on about how the cat is such a bother. She’s always mocking him. But then, the cat’s-eye stone starts to glow. I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them again, the stone looks normal. What is going on here?

  This makes me recall something even more disturbing: the ghost of Poseidon. I know that Nick said it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but it still felt incredibly real to me. “Janus, do you believe in ghosts?”

  He stops admonishing the poor cat. Bastet’s expression is one of relief, as if she understood exactly what he was saying that whole time. Not possible, of course. “No...well…” he starts, but he’s suddenly deep in thought as he uncharacteristically weighs his next words carefully. “Why do you ask?”

  “I think I saw one tonight,” I whisper.

  “Where?” Janus asks, although he doesn’t seem surprised in the least.

  “At the Temple of Poseidon,” I say as I finish simmering the fish, setting it aside on the stove. Next, I begin to set the food on the plates. “I thought I was going insane. Nick told me that it was just the light playing tricks on me.”

  Janus frowns. “So, you were on a date with him. I knew it!!” But then, his eyes soften, crinkling around the edges. “No, really, I don’t think you’re crazy. But also, I don’t think you can just blame it on the light either. Many things are not what they seem.”

  He seems to use that expression a lot, and it’s starting to get on my nerves. Why doesn’t he just say what he means? Not only did he not answer my question, but he just raised more for me.

  He continues, “Have you ever heard of Clarke’s Third Law?”

  I shake my head.

  “Futurist and writer Sir Arthur C. Clarke says, ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ I believe this explains most supernatural phenomena.”

  “But how…?” I start to say, but then stop short when I notice that one of the terry cloth wristbands that Janus always wears has fallen down his arm. On his wrist in plain sight is the double helix DNA snakes tattoo.

  “No,” I stammer, taking a step backward in panic. Suddenly, I feel faint, like I need to sit down. I turn the knobs on the stove to off and then fall onto the seat of the chair. “You…you work for Sarantos!”

  Janus twists the band back up and over the tattoo, covering it, then holds his hands up in defense. “Now, wait just a minute…”

  “No! You need to tell me what is going on right now!!” I say, my voice growing in intensity. “Is this why I’m in Greece?”

  Janus fidgets with his wristband, deep in thought. “As I told you before, the black markets here are complicated.”

  “You mean the Syndicate?” I stand up and slam a plate down hard onto the counter.

  “You know about the Syndicate?” His expression grows serious, as he sits down on the chair. “OK, fine. Half of Greece works for Sarantos, Helene. There’s no way around it. He has his hands in everything, all the way up into the farthest reaches of government here. How do you think I can afford to live in this house? You think my holistic business funds this place? No!”

  If not the wellness stuff, what exactly is Janus doing for Sarantos? Dealing drugs? Cocaine? I’m not ready to talk about this now, though. There are much more pressing matters to deal with here.

  “But he tried to kill me!” I scream.

  “No, Helene. There’s no way that was Sarantos. For God’s sake, he doesn’t kill people.”

  “Who hired that gunman then?”

  He shakes his head, not saying anything.

  I throw my hands up into the air. “Never mind!”

  There’s no time for this. What I want is plain and simple. “Where is my mom, Janus?! If you work for Sarantos, then you must know where she is.” My eyes fill with tears as I plead, “Just tell me!!”

  “The woman you knew as your mom is dead, Helene!” His eyes are wild, yet cold as he utters these horrible, harsh words that cut into my heart, ripping open fresh wounds. “Stop this crazy talk. I know it’s hard, but she’s gone. Stop looking for her!”

  Janus storms out of the room, leaving me torn to pieces. The tears fall hard, streaming down my cheeks as I stare down at my first Greek cooking creation, unable to eat, not even hungry anymore. How could Janus be so uncaring, so awful to take away all my hope about Mom? Why is he now saying she’s dead when before he pledged to look for her? He’s lying; that’s why. Now that I know he works for Sarantos, I understand exactly why he doesn’t want me to look for her.

  I reach down to my heart and feel the jagged border of the cypress tree, her pendant, and then the smooth metal of the ring with the twelve-point star, the ring that led me to Mom’s secret room. I know she’s alive. It’s up to me to find her.

  As I sit there feeling hopeless, I force myself to take a bite of the fish. Not bad. But then when I look up, something peculiar catches my eye. Up on the wall, hanging in front of Janus’s safe, is the black pencil drawing of what looks like one of the Greek goddesses that I noticed before. The goddess is a fiercely beautiful young woman with long, cascading brown hair, eyes dark and defiant, hold
ing a magnificent bow and arrow. But there’s something oddly familiar about her. She looks so much like… I shake my head, saying to myself, “No, it can’t be.” I can’t believe what I’m thinking. “My mother.”

  But what comes next makes me pause. My hand-drawn mother’s mouth turns up into a smile! But when I look again, her mouth is back to the thin, serious line it was before. I must be hallucinating! Now, as I walk up closer to the picture, I can see the image much more clearly now.

  This time, it is obvious. She’s winking at me.

  14 – Through the Looking Glass

  I jump back in shock, squeezing my eyes shut in panic. This can’t be real! Slowly, I crack one eye open at a time and peer out to take another look at the picture. But now Mom is gone. The goddess is back. Not my mother.

  My left “logical” brain kicks in, and I realize that I’m probably being a bit dramatic. I inhale…exhale…in and out, then finally calm down enough to think this through a bit more. I’ve heard that sometimes people who are dealing with extreme grief and loss think they see the person they’ve lost, so likely, this is my mind trying to cope with my grief. If that’s true, is it possible that it’s just my imagination that tells me my mother is still alive? Janus may be right. What if Mom really is gone?

  My eyes begin to water, fogging up my glasses, as sadness consumes me. I can’t think straight. But something is blocking the path under my feet. It’s my backpack! I kick it hard. There’s something solid in the side pocket. I reach inside.

  My insides churn when I see it: the strange iPad from Mom’s secret room.

  I’m so overwhelmed with anxiety that I slam the iPad hard against the wall, but I don’t hear the telltale shatter or crunching sound that should occur with so much impact. When I pick up the iPad to inspect the damage, I find nothing. Not even a scratch.

  This iPad must be immensely important to Janus. First, it was locked away in his safe, and then, days later, someone moved it to the secret room under the school, where it was safely protected inside the glass box.