“Do not be sad, Leto. You have done well to follow the promise you made me. One day you will know another, and she will share your goodness. She will have skin the color of olives and eyes of lapis. She, too, will sing like no other…”
♪
As Portia pulled herself together the next morning, she tried, in vain, to reorient herself. She felt trapped in a vortex of fantasy, so unsure about what was real and what was imagined that she wondered if she had even dreamt Max’s seductive song.
Looking in the mirror, she was overwhelmed by the black rings under her eyes. Taking special care to camouflage her fatigue, she decided to run the straightener through her hair that day. Why not opt for some pin-straight sophistication over the rambling waves that usually comprised her mess of hair? But no matter how high she set the heat on the iron, she couldn’t calm her hair, which seemed to have thickened overnight.
Deciding not to argue with Mother Nature’s rebellious streak, Portia gave her head one final tousle and headed downstairs.
“Whoa,” Joshua stopped her in the kitchen. “That’s quite a hairdo, Portia. Wait, do people actually still say hairdo?”
“I don’t think so, Dad,” she signed.
“Is there something special happening at school today? Someone special, maybe?”
Portia glared at her father with fire in her eyes. How dare he presume to know what was going on in her love life? In her life at all? When he sensed her wrath, she watched with a modicum of pleasure as the blood drained out of his face.
“What? What did I say?”
And then it passed. Just like that, the anger was gone.
“Nothing,” she signed, “Sorry—I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
He walked over to her, arms outstretched, but for some reason she recoiled from his touch, grabbing her bag and heading out without turning back to take in the hurt on Joshua’s face.
♪
Seated in comfortable silence next to Charlotte on the bus a few minutes later, Portia replayed the run-in with her father.
What the hell was that about?
She never got that angry with her dad—or with anyone—and was typically pretty open with her folks about what was going on in her life. But this burst of rage was utterly indescribable. And what for? He hadn’t even really said anything wrong.
Maybe I just don’t have room right now for a third man in my life
, she thought with a stab of guilt.
At the thought of her men, she remembered Felix and wondered if he would be carrying a grudge about last night. She had refused a number of invitations from him to video chat, not wanting to interrupt her time with Max.
Charlotte was busy texting her mom, so she decided to give Felix a shout-out.
“Hey there,” she texted him, invoking a casualness she did not really feel.
“Oh, look who decided to crawl out of the woodwork,” he wrote back. “What’s with u declining me last night?”
“Three times…” he added just as she began typing back.
“Sorry—Charlotte and I were reviewing chem.”
“For three hours?”
Portia waited, letting the comment slide. What could she say?
“Whatever—did u ask Char if she’s coming to open mic nt?”
Here was her chance to throw out a blasé warning to Felix about Max’s scheduled performance at the café. There was a slight tremor in her thumbs as she texted, “Not yet—will today…”
And then the bomb.
“U know, Max is gonna be performing that nt—cool, right?”
Was that blasé enough?
“No, actually I didn’t know that,” came Felix’s response, “Like I said before—whatever.”
Guess not.
The rage she had felt earlier returned without warning.
“Felix, I already told you. You don’t own me. And you never will,” she added.
Her fury propelled her fingers to type at a speed that matched her pulse.
There was no response from him as the bus pulled up to campus, and Portia tried to calm herself before heading into school. She cleared her mind of everything—Felix’s pettiness, the random story of the three sisters, and Marsyas, the newest addition to her buddy list, though she had never invited or accepted him.
She just wanted to feel ordinary. Wanted to mentally replay Max’s “lullaby” in her head without interruption. She had never thought of herself as a vehicular metaphor, but after last night, she knew that her relationship with him had permanently shifted out of neutral.
With these thoughts, the spring returned to her step as she bounded off the bus. She was just moments away from hearing his voice again.
♪
When she walked into
Odyssey
class that morning, though, she saw only Felix. She wondered where Max was, but Mr. Morrison wasted no time beginning the class, so she settled herself next to Felix, exchanging only a brief awkward greeting with him.
Morrison’s lecture that day turned out to be something of an Odysseus pity party. “So, show of hands—is there anyone among you who has
not
had to overcome obstacles in your lifetime?”
She looked over at Felix, whose eyes were glued to Ellen Chadwicke’s hands, and a wave of guilt washed over her when she thought about his obstacles, their obstacles. The ones they had had to face together. The ones that
she
had finally overcome, leaving him to go it alone. And he didn’t even know it yet.
When the bell rang, there was still no sign of Max. She took out her cell phone to see if he had texted her but came up with nothing.
“What, no word from him?” Felix asked.
Portia shoved the phone back into her backpack and started storming away when he suddenly gripped her arm.
“Wait. I’m sorry. I know I’m acting like a baby. I’m just trying to figure some stuff out. I’m sorry. Let’s forget it for now, OK? Please?”
She had to strain her neck upward to follow his hands.
What was the sense in worsening the situation right now? Better to let it go for the moment.
“Did you grow like a foot since yesterday?” She allowed a smile, breaking the tension.
“Definitely not since last night,” his posture relaxed visibly. “I don’t think I slept for a straight hour last night. Dean kept iChatting me to talk about dirt bikes. He’s more of an adrenaline junkie than I am, I swear. It all comes from my grandfather, though. I mean, he probably shouldn’t be buying Dean a bike—my grandmother is freaking out about it.”
“I don’t blame her. Just because he’s got a fat wallet doesn’t mean your grandfather has to indulge your every whim,” she held her smile, relieved to be having a normal exchange with him. “Just tell him that he better not buy you a bike. I couldn’t handle if anything ever happened to you, Felix.”
He put his arm around her, pulling her in close. “I’m not going anywhere, Portia. Don’t worry…”
It felt good to have his arm around her, and she wished for a moment that some kind of tornado would come swooping down the hall, carrying them away to an easier place.
But the only thing that did come swooping down the hall was Gabrielle Parker. And when Felix spotted her, he broke their pose and followed the freshman to her locker like a horse with a carrot dangling before him.
It wasn’t hard to understand what Felix saw in her. Gabrielle was pretty, in an unchallenging way, with her blonde hair in its perfect ponytail. And there was a kindness to her face, a contagious laughter as she tried following Felix’s lead for the sign for “math class.”
So why was it that at the sight of Felix’s new love interest, the rage that had been sweeping over her in violent spurts returned so fiercely that she all she could do was turn around? If not, the words that were creeping up in her throat would surely have broken the surface:
“Hey Parker—stay the hell away from him…”
♪
Max didn’t show up at all that day. Portia couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t at school. He had seemed fine last night. Better than fine, actually. Finally, right before the last class of the day, he texted her:
“Hey—had to go see my dad—big setback, will give you the deets when I get back. Hope to catch a train tomorrow…”
Portia read the text and resisted the urge to write back a million questions. She figured that he had probably already had a draining day.
“K—hope everything works out,” she wrote back, unable to imagine what it must be like for Max to see his father this way. “I’ll c u when u get back.”
“U know it,” he wrote. Something about when he tried to talk street always made her laugh.
“Peace out, brother,” she offered and then slipped her cell phone into her backpack. Images of Max floated through her like a healing vapor. She loved that he maintained his humor even when his life was falling apart. Carried by these meanderings through the RPA hallways, Portia perused the bulletin boards and stopped at the one that invited students to audition for the RPA musical revue,
The Whole Cole—A Tribute to the Genius of Cole Porter
.
“Thinking about trying out?”
Any thoughts of humor instantly drained from Portia, replaced by a boiling anger. She turned around to tell off whoever it was that had asked her such an obviously mocking question and was surprised to find Ms. Leucosia standing behind her, her red hair as fiery as ever. She expected to see sarcasm in the nurse’s eyes, a facetious look that would support the nastiness of her question. But her eyes held only a look of unnerving understanding.
Portia returned Ms. Leucosia’s gaze uncomfortably until finally her cell phone interrupted them. It was the twelfth time that day that her iCal was reminding her to start her
Odyssey
assignment.
For many years the sisters lured in the sailors with the beauty of their voices. The evil in their hearts grew ever greater as they destroyed the foolish mortals. The mountain of bones swelled at the edge of the lush meadow and Parthenope and Ligeia often flew above the great pile, their laughter smooth as silk, never noticing the puddle of silver that seeped from below the base of the mountain.
For when she was alone, Leto did often visit the grave of the mortals to shed tears for the evil she had done. Many times had she thought to abandon her sisters in their murderous rampages, but always she remembered the promise that she had made to her mother.
One day a great ship lost its way and sailed into the treacherous hunting ground of the Sirens. Many oarsmen were aboard the ship, and the seductresses revealed their beauty to the mortals, guiding them with their glorious voices. As the men began begging the Goddesses to board the ship, Leto suddenly noticed a mortal unlike any other she had ever seen. He stood as tall as a Cyclops with fair hair that looked to be spun of gold. His eyes were as blue as the topaz of Zeus’s crown.
“Leto,” beckoned Parthenope, “what causes you to cease your song? Have you begun to doubt your desire to destroy the mortals?”
At the sight of the beautiful sailor, Leto’s heart began to pound. He had not yet fallen upon his knee to beg knowledge of the glorious Goddesses, suggesting a superior strength of heart and mind.
“Dear sisters,” she spoke sweetly, “many years have we destroyed men aboard their own ships, carrying their bones to our meadow and rejoicing over our conquests. Shall we not beckon these men to dwell on our island for a time? For surely there are things about mortals that we may learn from these oarsmen.”
Leto’s words found favor with her sisters, who lured the sailors to the island. There, confused as a herd of cattle, they cast their weary feet onto the green grass of the meadow.
Many months dwelt the mortals among the Sirens, doing any manner of thing commanded by the seductresses. They played instruments for the Goddesses as Marsyas had once done. They slaughtered the animals, which then they prepared with flowers and herbs for the Goddesses. With axes of golden handles, they chopped down trees and built the prison in which they were forced to remain.
All these long days, Leto observed the beautiful mortal who had captured her heart. She learned that his name was Nereus, and that he was the commander of his ship. Many wars had Nereus seen, and great wisdom was his. Leto was amazed at the beauty of the mortal who spoke ever sweetly to his men, offering them hope for a safe return to their homeland. He begged them to resist the powers of the Goddesses, but his men were weak.
Only Nereus remained sound of mind when the sweet songs of the Sirens filled the air.
Leto and Nereus escaped together whenever the sisters turned a blind eye, forming a deep and pure love for one another. The lovers explored all corners of the lush island, Nereus riding on the back of his beloved winged Goddess.
Alas, the lovers’ bliss was not to last long, as one fateful day Parthenope questioned her sister:
“Leto, what manner of game have you played these many months with the one they call Nereus?”
Ligeia let escape an evil laugh, for she had spotted the lovers many times lying together in the grassy fields.
“What matter is this to you, dear Parthenope?” responded Leto.
Parthenope bared her snow white teeth and said “I have grown weary, Leto, of this flock of mortal men that lives among us. Come, let us now destroy them, for too long have we waited for the taste of mortal flesh.”
Ligeia laughed once again, anticipating the great sorrow her sister would feel at the loss of her mortal lover.
Great tears of silver now fell from the emerald eyes of the lovely Leto.
“I beseech you, Parthenope, do not be hasty in dealing with these men, for now am I even in love with the one they call Nereus. I beg you, spare his life, Parthenope, so that we may live our days together.”
Parthenope laughed at the desperate pleas of her sister.
“A foolish girl you are, Leto, to think that love can be shared between a mortal and a Goddess. Let us make haste now, Ligeia, and destroy these men. No longer am I willing to encourage such a foolhardy love.”
Thus emerged the white wings of the Sirens as they flew to the wooden cage where the men did sleep.
“No!” screamed Leto. “I beg you! Cease this evil, my sisters!”
Her wings emerged at once as she flew with great speed to keep pace with her sisters. But the strength of two immortals is far greater than that of one. And though Leto implored the almighty Zeus that he might intervene on her behalf and spare the life of her beloved Nereus, her plea fell on deafened ears.
Leto flew above the olivewood prison, circling slowly, singing a song of comfort to the men who were now to become forgotten souls. She sang in a voice as pure as snow while her sisters began to tear apart their human flesh, filling the evil hunger that had mounted inside them these many months. Leto begged the men not to resist death, as their efforts would only worsen their suffering.
Nereus stood tall in the center of the olivewood cage. Longingly he gazed heavenward at his lover. The tears that spilled from Leto’s eyes fell upon his golden curls, creating a sun-kissed blend of silver and gold. As he heard the song escape the lips he had kissed so tenderly, he knew for certain that death was upon him.
He brought his hands upward, longing to touch her once again, when all at once Parthenope and Ligeia were upon him. They ripped him limb from mortal limb and feasted on his flesh, all the while Leto singing above them. When at last the massacre had ended, the evil sisters flew up to Leto and threw her lover’s bones into her quivering arms.
♪
And so Leto’s pain was so great at the loss of Nereus that she could no longer dwell with her evil sisters, who had murdered him before her very eyes. Even the promise she had made to her mother could no longer force her to keep company with the murderous Goddesses. In a wooded cave the Siren hid, ever weeping for the loss of her lover. One day Athena, the great Goddess of compassion and wisdom, appeared to Leto, taking the form of a wild boar, lest the evil sisters spot her and try to bring her harm.
The wild boar approached Leto, who hoped the animal would make quick her death so that she could be with her beloved. But she knew she hoped in vain, as the only sure death for a Siren was to drown in the open sea.
“Leto,” said the boar unto the sullen Goddess, “do not sit here any longer shedding your lovely tears of silver. Let us leave this island at once, for soon Parthenope and Ligeia will make leave for the depths of Hades.
“But you, my sweet Leto, grow inside you now a daughter, born of the love that you shared with Nereus. So I bid you, come live with me so that you and your daughter will know happiness.”
Athena’s words greatly comforted Leto, whose giant wings emerged at once. The wild boar climbed upon her back as they made ready to fly.
Through heavy tears, Leto said these words:
“Athena, long have I waited for kind and inviting words such as you have spoken. Before we depart, I beg you, help me to solve but one mystery. When will the next one come? The one with the olive skin and the lapis eyes?”
“I cannot say, sweet Leto, but I do know that when she arrives, all who know her will question whether they had ever really known the beauty of music before her…”
♪
Leucosia glanced at the skylight, determining the sun’s position overhead. This was still the most reliable way for her to tell time, a fact she lamented as it meant she just couldn’t justify spending the money on one of the new Cartier timepieces that had recently caught her eye.
It was 6:30 a.m. Where was he already? She had to get to school in an hour, and she knew the meeting with her father could run long.
Finally she heard him enter the house, and she rose up to greet him.
“Father,” she planted a kiss on both of his heavily bearded cheeks. “You look wonderful.”
“As do you, my dear Leto. The years have been your kind friends.”
“Father, I think I’m a bit old for that nickname by now, don’t you?”
“Ahh, no, my dear. You will always be my Leto, my ‘hidden one.’ For in you, Leucosia, there is a humble flame that warms the hearts and souls of all who come to know you.”
He leaned in once again and embraced his daughter heartily, feeling her wince slightly at the touch of his hands on her back, so sore from the many years of bearing the weight of her lofty wings.
“Have you still the breakthrough pains that have often afflicted all winged Gods?” Achelous questioned his daughter.
Leucosia was frustrated by the antiquated verbiage of her father.
“Father, in this day and age, if anyone heard you speaking like that they would probably lock you up in a loony bin.”
Achelous maintained an uncomprehending stare.
“Oh, never mind,” she said, eager to tell him of Portia’s recent developments.
She turned around and arranged the silver tea set on a tray, which she carried over to the coffee table. Pouring a cup of his favorite lavender tea, she topped off the steaming drink with some fresh chopped mint, her father’s signature twist. She handed him the delicate teacup, which looked positively Lilliputian in his enormous hand.
“How is the tea, Father?”
“Lovely, Let—I mean, Leucosia. The mint is especially fragrant—”
“The lavender reminds me of the ointment I had to apply to Portia’s back the other day,” she interrupted her father, bursting at the seams to speak of her young charge. “She came to my office—growing pains, you know—and it was so lovely to have the one-on-one time with her.”
“Ah, so she’s evolving?” Achelous took another sip of the tea.
“Oh, Father—she’s practically a woman!”
Leucosia knew she sounded like a gushing mother, but she couldn’t help herself.
“She’s beautiful and intelligent and at the same time humble and shy. She has nothing of the ‘silly schoolgirl’ in her, well, except for the fact that I think she’s developed a recent crush. But anyway, she is just an absolute gem.”
Achelous smiled at the great joy of his remaining daughter, but still he seemed concerned.
“And your, um, sisters? Has she any of the poison that did flow through their very veins?”
This time Leucosia ignored her father’s ancient language. Her heart went out to him as his face crumpled at the mention of Parthenope and Ligeia. Determined to reassure him, she conjured up an image of Portia in her mind’s eye. She could see clearly the beauty of the girl. Her sculpted face, now freed of any remnants of childhood pudge. Her brilliant blue eyes—Nereus’s eyes. Her piles of brown silken hair.
And the mouth.
That full mouth—about to be released from its prison of silence.
“No, Father, there is not a trace of evil to be found in the young Siren…”