Goddess Interrupted
Page 52
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Henry gestured for Walter to come with him. I wanted to follow, but my mother clung to me, and I didn’t want to let her go.
“Are you all right?” she said, pulling away enough to look me over head to toe.
“I’m f ine,” I said, even though that was a lie. I ached all over, and my blood was practically boiling, but there was no use complaining about it when the others must have felt the same. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” She shook her head. “I’m all right. It was a very brave thing you did, coming to f ind us.”
I averted my eyes and stared at the spot of blood on the carpet, where Calliope had been moments before. “It was stupid. I’m sorry. I never meant for any of that to happen, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”
“Of course you couldn’t, sweetheart.” She gently wiped my dirty face with her sleeve and pressed her lips against my cheek. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t do something.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Persephone step toward us, and my mother straightened. I refused to let go of her hand, and to my relief, her grip on mine didn’t loosen, either.
“Kate’s very brave,” said Persephone without a hint of resentment. My hostility began to melt, and I opened my mouth to return the sentiment when Persephone added,
“A bit stupid and shortsighted, and completely naive, but brave.”
That same sourness toward her solidif ied inside of me again. As much as I wanted to hate her though, I couldn’t, not when she’d risked everything to help. Had she really known Calliope and Cronus couldn’t touch her? Now that it was over, I was sure she hadn’t, not when Calliope herself hadn’t known. And the way she’d reacted back at her cottage when she’d found out Cronus had been following us—no, she hadn’t known, but she’d done it anyway.
“We never would have found it without you,” I said reluctantly, and my mother—our mother—reached out to take her hand.
“I’m so glad you two are getting along,” she said. “I never meant for you to meet under these circumstances, and I’m sorry I wasn’t with you for it.”
At that moment, it didn’t matter that she hadn’t told Persephone I existed. While I couldn’t completely forget the nagging part of my brain that reminded me again and again that I was Persephone’s replacement, second-best, nothing more than a spare part, for now I ignored it and forced myself to smile. After the ordeal our mother had been through, I couldn’t deny her that bit of happiness.
“Persephone.”
Henry’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but even in the buzz of the foyer, it cut through me. He stood in the hallway, his arms covered in blood and his clothing torn, but like he’d done in the cave, he stared past me and focused on Persephone instead. It was as if none of the past few weeks had happened. As if none of the past thousand years had happened.
“Hello, Hades,” said my sister. “It’s been a long time.” Henry slipped through the crowd to join us, and though he set his hand on the small of my back, he didn’t look at me. “Are you all right?” he said, and Persephone rolled her eyes.
“Of course I am. I can’t die twice.”
Henry hesitated, and my mother’s grip on my hand tightened. She knew what he was going to do before he did it, but her warning didn’t help. Henry pressed his lips to Persephone’s cheek tenderly, and as Persephone kissed back, a wave of nausea swept over me.
“Come,” said my mother to me. Neither Henry nor Persephone spared us a second glance as my mother led me through the foyer and into the hallway, and she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It has been a very long time since they’ve seen one another.”
“I know,” I whispered, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Simply placing one foot in front of the other was torture, but I kept moving forward, needing to put as much distance between me and them as I could. When we reached the bedroom, I hesitated, but my mother pushed the door open anyway.
“You need to rest,” she said, leading me toward the bed.
I wanted to resist, but she looked almost as frail as she had while she’d fought cancer, and my intense fear of losing her spread through me, leaving me no chance to shake it off.
“You, too,” I insisted. I perched on the edge of the bed, but that was all I was willing to give until she took it easy, as well. “Sit.”
She didn’t argue. Together she and I curled up on the bed like we had a thousand times before, whenever I’d gotten scared or lonely as a child, or when she’d gotten sick and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone for an entire night. I’d been so afraid she would close her eyes and never wake up; it was diff icult to reconcile that fear with the knowledge that she was immortal and wouldn’t fade until she no longer had a purpose in the world, or until Cronus killed her. And I would go down f ighting before I let him hurt anyone else I loved.
We lay there together as time seemed to freeze around us. I counted each breath she took, and she rubbed my back in circles. For a moment I managed to forget we were in the Underworld, and I imagined we were in New York, a mother and only daughter with nothing particularly special about them. I would be attending NYU by now, or maybe Columbia. Maybe if my mother hadn’t gotten sick, I would’ve met someone, Henry would’ve never broken my heart, and I’d never have to know what it was like to live in the shadow of my sister.
“Are you all right?” she said, pulling away enough to look me over head to toe.
“I’m f ine,” I said, even though that was a lie. I ached all over, and my blood was practically boiling, but there was no use complaining about it when the others must have felt the same. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” She shook her head. “I’m all right. It was a very brave thing you did, coming to f ind us.”
I averted my eyes and stared at the spot of blood on the carpet, where Calliope had been moments before. “It was stupid. I’m sorry. I never meant for any of that to happen, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”
“Of course you couldn’t, sweetheart.” She gently wiped my dirty face with her sleeve and pressed her lips against my cheek. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t do something.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Persephone step toward us, and my mother straightened. I refused to let go of her hand, and to my relief, her grip on mine didn’t loosen, either.
“Kate’s very brave,” said Persephone without a hint of resentment. My hostility began to melt, and I opened my mouth to return the sentiment when Persephone added,
“A bit stupid and shortsighted, and completely naive, but brave.”
That same sourness toward her solidif ied inside of me again. As much as I wanted to hate her though, I couldn’t, not when she’d risked everything to help. Had she really known Calliope and Cronus couldn’t touch her? Now that it was over, I was sure she hadn’t, not when Calliope herself hadn’t known. And the way she’d reacted back at her cottage when she’d found out Cronus had been following us—no, she hadn’t known, but she’d done it anyway.
“We never would have found it without you,” I said reluctantly, and my mother—our mother—reached out to take her hand.
“I’m so glad you two are getting along,” she said. “I never meant for you to meet under these circumstances, and I’m sorry I wasn’t with you for it.”
At that moment, it didn’t matter that she hadn’t told Persephone I existed. While I couldn’t completely forget the nagging part of my brain that reminded me again and again that I was Persephone’s replacement, second-best, nothing more than a spare part, for now I ignored it and forced myself to smile. After the ordeal our mother had been through, I couldn’t deny her that bit of happiness.
“Persephone.”
Henry’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but even in the buzz of the foyer, it cut through me. He stood in the hallway, his arms covered in blood and his clothing torn, but like he’d done in the cave, he stared past me and focused on Persephone instead. It was as if none of the past few weeks had happened. As if none of the past thousand years had happened.
“Hello, Hades,” said my sister. “It’s been a long time.” Henry slipped through the crowd to join us, and though he set his hand on the small of my back, he didn’t look at me. “Are you all right?” he said, and Persephone rolled her eyes.
“Of course I am. I can’t die twice.”
Henry hesitated, and my mother’s grip on my hand tightened. She knew what he was going to do before he did it, but her warning didn’t help. Henry pressed his lips to Persephone’s cheek tenderly, and as Persephone kissed back, a wave of nausea swept over me.
“Come,” said my mother to me. Neither Henry nor Persephone spared us a second glance as my mother led me through the foyer and into the hallway, and she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It has been a very long time since they’ve seen one another.”
“I know,” I whispered, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Simply placing one foot in front of the other was torture, but I kept moving forward, needing to put as much distance between me and them as I could. When we reached the bedroom, I hesitated, but my mother pushed the door open anyway.
“You need to rest,” she said, leading me toward the bed.
I wanted to resist, but she looked almost as frail as she had while she’d fought cancer, and my intense fear of losing her spread through me, leaving me no chance to shake it off.
“You, too,” I insisted. I perched on the edge of the bed, but that was all I was willing to give until she took it easy, as well. “Sit.”
She didn’t argue. Together she and I curled up on the bed like we had a thousand times before, whenever I’d gotten scared or lonely as a child, or when she’d gotten sick and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone for an entire night. I’d been so afraid she would close her eyes and never wake up; it was diff icult to reconcile that fear with the knowledge that she was immortal and wouldn’t fade until she no longer had a purpose in the world, or until Cronus killed her. And I would go down f ighting before I let him hurt anyone else I loved.
We lay there together as time seemed to freeze around us. I counted each breath she took, and she rubbed my back in circles. For a moment I managed to forget we were in the Underworld, and I imagined we were in New York, a mother and only daughter with nothing particularly special about them. I would be attending NYU by now, or maybe Columbia. Maybe if my mother hadn’t gotten sick, I would’ve met someone, Henry would’ve never broken my heart, and I’d never have to know what it was like to live in the shadow of my sister.
