The familiar surroundings of Dr. Loring’s waiting room would normally have put Portia at ease. The pediatrician had been treating her since she was a baby. He still had the same old-fashioned black and white View-Master, which showed a tattered film as the crank was manually turned. Portia had never tired of watching the silent movie of the boy having a pie-in-face fight with his friends.
Back then a visit to Dr. Loring’s office meant fleshing out a new theory about her silence. Now they would be fleshing out a theory to explain her voice.
Portia looked over at a young brother and sister taking turns with the View-Master. As one peered into the window of the aged copper machine, the other turned the crank to keep the movie going. She envied the siblings their normal life.
“Portia Griffin.” Gladys called her name, a thick file in hand.
Portia reached out and gave her mom’s hand a quick squeeze. She had already told her at home that she was too old for Helena to come into the exam room.
“Is it true?” Gladys asked as they walked toward the exam room, “Um, true that you can talk now?”
“It sure is,” Portia offered. Her tone made it clear that further questions were not welcome.
The nurse smiled at her as she ushered her into the small room “That’s wonderful, Portia. Really wonderful.”
When she sat down on the exam table, Portia tried to keep her panic at bay. She was taking calming breaths and trying to conjure peaceful images until out of nowhere an all-too-familiar prickle attacked her limbs.
Holy shit, he’s here. They’re here.
She got up and opened the door, ready to bolt, and ran right into the solid figure of Dr. Loring entering the room.
“Whoa, Portia, where are you headed?” The doctor’s heavy jowls shook when he spoke.
“Um, I thought I was going to puke again.”
Dr. Loring led her back to the exam table. “Well, those certainly wouldn’t have been the first words I would have chosen to hear with your new voice, but I have to say it is wonderful to hear you at all.”
Despite his bulldoggish looks, there was something reassuring about the pediatrician, and Portia tried to relax a bit, though the prickle persisted.
“So what’s ailing you today?” he asked as he gently felt the glands in her throat.
Ailing?
“Well, my mom kind of forced me to come.” She paused briefly, measuring the force with which she spoke her words. “I’ve had some kind of, like, virus the past few days.”
“Oh, yeah? What kind of virus?”
Portia tried to make light of her symptoms.
“Well, I’ve had an upset stomach. Maybe some chills off and on.”
And definitely a prickling right now. Where are you, Proteus?
The doctor expertly tapped on her back and took out his otoscope. Portia felt a knot in her stomach at the sight of the instrument.
“Do you think your symptoms could have been brought on by nerves?” the doctor asked, shining the light into her ears. He stopped short in front of Portia, waiting for her response.
“What do you mean?” She was distracted by the prickling, her eyes darting everywhere to find the elusive shape-shifter.
“Well, it’s not every teenager that is scheduled to go up against an evil God and his spiritual sidekicks.”
She almost fell off the gurney.
“How did you know? Who are you?” The words came gushing out, a mixture of shock and fear.
Suddenly the husky build of the doctor melted before her very eyes and transformed into the delicate frame of a woman. Portia’s immediate instinct was to run. And then she recognized the face of the deity before her.
“Athena?”
“Yes, Portia. It is I, Athena. Did you not know that I, too, can alter my shape?”
Portia thought back to when Athena had stood in for Mr. Morrison in class. “Actually, I did know that—I just forgot. What are you doing here?”
Athena reached out a tentative hand toward Portia. “You look weary, my child.”
Her words released a floodgate of tears. Portia cried hard, the silver tears streaming down her face as she thought about just how weary she actually was.
Athena comforted her, offering her soothing words, assuring her that everything would be OK. When the young Siren’s tears were spent, Athena waited patiently for the many questions she was sure Portia would have.
“Where is Dr. Loring?” came the first inquiry.
The Goddess crossed the room to a closet door, which she opened to reveal the slumped form of Dr. Loring sleeping soundly.
“What is it you kids say? I, um, slipped the good doctor a mickey. Some lotus flower petals will erase any memory he might have of meeting me.” Athena bent over and tried to straighten out the doctor’s compressed spine. “Portia, Leucosia called upon me yesterday because she knows that I do care for her greatly, which means I care for you as well.”
“Thanks, Athena. And thank you for helping out with that whole Tiresias thing. I’m sure that couldn’t have been fun for you.”
“Let us not speak of it.” A faint blush spread through her milky cheeks. “I know, of course, that a madness has been consuming you and is stretching further and further out of your control. Leucosia thought I might be able to offer you a—um—prep talk?”
“Pep talk,” Portia corrected.
“Yes, a pep talk. She fears that because you have been unwell, you have not been able to tackle some of the more challenging assignments given to you by the Gods.”
“Like what, Athena? What is possibly going to help me stand up to Proteus and the sisters? Making a flower grow? Stopping the rain? It’s pointless—it’s all pointless!”
Athena sat down. “Portia, there was one assignment on the list—
Go Beyond Your Voice
. Did you get to that one yet?”
Portia was at the end of her rope. “No, Athena, in between sparring with a shape-shifter in the mirror, trying to control the vile words that the sisters are throwing through my mouth, and vomiting up the contents of my stomach, I haven’t actually been able to get to that one yet. Go beyond my voice? Hell, I’m not anywhere near my voice, let alone ready to go beyond it.”
“Portia—”
But Portia was only getting started.
“Go beyond my voice? Do you realize that I might die in the next few days? Or worse, kill someone? Kill Max? What will my parents do? My friends?”
She got up and started pacing around the small room. “Look, Athena, I’m sure Leucosia has explained to you just how sick I’ve been these past few days, these past few weeks. I want to be strong for you, I do. I just don’t know if it’s in me. And I don’t even know what exactly ‘it’ is. I mean, what is it exactly that I am bringing to this battle that is so incredibly valuable?”
Dr. Loring let out a snort from the closet.
“Portia, listen to me. I know you have suffered much pain since discovering that you are a Goddess. But you must also think of the powers you have acquired. Think of the way you put an end to Harold Trotter’s abuse. The way you mesmerized Max’s little cousins—”
“Jeez—is there anything you guys don’t know about?”
Athena sat Portia down again, trying to soothe her like she did that day on the mountaintop. “Let’s get back to the assignments for a moment. Tell me what you have had success with.”
Portia told Athena about erasing Max’s memory, sending her parents into an amorous frenzy, and stopping the rain from falling on Felix. When she mentioned the voice throwing, Athena was visibly impressed.
“Oh—and then there was the R-E-S-P-E-C-T performance—”
“Yes,” Athena smiled, “Dionysus is a huge Aretha fan.”
“I figured,” Portia was starting to relax a little bit. “Last week I attempted to
Control the Flow of Water
by singing over the bathtub. But I had already added bubble bath, so I couldn’t really tell if the water was following my voice. I have to be honest, Athena, when I saw that last line on the list,
Go Beyond Your Voice
, I kind of dismissed it. I thought that it was like saying ‘You go girl!’—I never attempted it. I don’t even know what it means.”
Athena placed a comforting hand on Portia’s shoulder.
“Portia, if I could explain it to you, even achieve it for you, I would. But going beyond your voice requires you to search deep within yourself. You have the powers to defeat your demons, Portia—you just need to believe that you do.”
Portia was about to launch into a million more questions when Athena pulled a flower from the pocket of her lab coat and began gently plucking the velvety petals into a mortar that rested on the doctor’s counter. She took the pestle and slowly began crushing the petals, turning them into a paste.
“Portia, our meeting must end now, for I do not wish to worry your mother. You must believe me when I tell you that you have barely just scratched the surface of your powers.”
Before Portia could say another word, Athena morphed back into the ruddy Dr. Loring. She poked her head out the door and called out for Gladys.
“Please tell Mrs. Griffin that it is just a mild flu, and that with some rest it should go away in a day or two.”
When she closed the door again, she said, “OK, off you go, Portia. May you find only favor in the eyes of the Gods.”
A dumbfounded Portia rose up and began making her way out of the exam room. As she did, she saw Athena gently feeding the mashed up lotus flowers into Dr. Loring’s sleeping lips.
Portia stood outside Max’s door. She could hear him alternate between tapping on and strumming his guitar. She was moved by how solemn and sophisticated his sounds were—more so than any sixteen-year-old should be producing. But what should she expect? Beautiful music is always inspired by the trials of love, isn’t it?
“…
And it’s a cold, cold placeway deep down in your soul,
And I just can’t stay away,
I’ve lost control.
But I know this love will lead me somewhere warm…
And so I ride the storm
.”
He strummed out the last chord angrily, and she gently knocked on his door and pushed it open, reluctant to interrupt him.
“Are you really here?” Her heart broke at the desperation in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m really here. Am I interrupting anything?”
She hoped any hostility Max felt for her would vanish the instant he heard her voice, which she kept gentle. Calm.
“No, no. I was just working on some tunes. It’s so good to see you. I texted you this morning to find out why you weren’t in school, but you never texted me back.”
Portia let the implied question as to her whereabouts that morning float into oblivion. She fingered a few random trinkets that lined the shelf above Max’s desk, stopping at a beautiful letter opener with a carved mother-of-pearl handle. She held it up questioningly.
“My dad thought my mom might write to us. I think I’ve mentioned that he’s old-school—I mean, who the hell uses a letter opener anymore?”
She crossed the room to his bed and sat beside him. While she felt strong from the visit with Athena, she needed to focus on what she came here to say. She wanted to be sure that she tied up all her loose ends before the big day arrived.
He seemed strong, too, right now. Perhaps the Gods were granting them a moment’s peace. The calm before the storm.
Gently Portia eased Max back as she laid her head down on his chest. She could feel the acceleration of his heartbeat at her every touch. She curled in close to him, inhaling his scent and willing the world away.
Patiently Max stroked her hair, her cheek.
“Max, I wanted to try to explain a few things to you before I get too out of control.”
His body released a slight tremor when she spoke.
“What do you mean?”
She curled her legs closer into his cautiously, hoping that she wasn’t pressing her advantage.
“Max, I, um, have been going through some changes lately. And I just wanted you to know, in case anything happens to me over the next couple of days, that I think you’re amazing, and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way.”
Max tipped her face toward his.
“What do you mean ‘in case anything happens to you’?” The worry in his voice was so sincere, driving yet one more nail into the coffin of her impending doom.
“Let’s just say that I’ve gotten mixed up with some people that I wish I wouldn’t have, and I can feel them gaining on me.”
Max sat up and combed his hands through his hair nervously.
“Is that why you’ve been acting so…moody? Because you’ve gotten messed up with some bad people? Why don’t you let me help you, Portia? Or go to the police or something? You sound pretty resigned to letting these ‘people’ get the best of you.”
His voice had risen with anger and fear. Portia was afraid that he would draw the attention of his aunt and uncle or, even worse, the kids. She pulled him back down to her, bringing his face within an inch of her own.
“Max, I’m trying to work it out. Believe me, I’m not resigned to anything. I’m just…tired. I need you to know, though, that when I’m not with you, I’m missing you just as much as I imagine you are missing me. I think about you all the time and wish things didn’t have to be so complicated.”
“So why do they? I don’t get it, Portia. If you have feelings for me, why can’t we be together? Why does everything have to be such a battle for you?”
At his use of the word “battle,” Portia started to cry. She prayed that her tears would run clear. But it wouldn’t have mattered if they were fuchsia. Max was so intent on kissing them away, his own eyes closed as he touched his lips to her eyelids, her cheeks, down to her mouth.
At the touch of his lips, Portia forgot altogether why she had made this visit in the first place. She surrendered herself to the moment, planting her hands firmly in Max’s mess of brown hair and drawing him in further.
He pulled away after a minute. “Portia, you know how I feel, right? Despite all of it, I am ridiculously, helplessly, and most definitely in love with you.”
She wanted so much to tell Max that she loved him, too. At least she was pretty sure she did. But her mouth just wouldn’t form the words, not while her whole life hung in the balance. Not to mention that even now, even while Max’s trembling hands caressed her, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she couldn’t shake the image of Felix’s face.
Forcing any intrusive thoughts from her head, Portia told herself that she was entitled to this one moment. Hadn’t she been through enough? Hadn’t they both been through enough? She pulled Max’s face back to hers and kissed him fiercely, her lips delivering all the messages that she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.
His hands traveled the path of her body, and she allowed him to pass his fingertips over her shirt, eliciting an earnest moan from her.
She could feel his heart pounding, and she kissed his Adam’s apple as it traveled wildly up and down his throat.
Stepping outside of herself, Portia took a moment to measure the situation. There was a distinct possibility that she might be dead before the end of the week. Did she really want to go out not knowing what all the fuss was about?
She had always imagined that she would save herself. If not for her husband, then at least for that college boyfriend who had been hanging around for a year or two. But right here, right now, that prospect seemed entirely out of her reach. Maybe
this
was her moment.
Enter the voice of reason. You’re sixteen! You’re not even remotely old enough to take this kind of a step. Haven’t you learned anything from all those talks with Helena? You’re too young!
As her internal debate raged on, Portia suddenly felt Max pull away. He held his head in his hands while he tried to steady his breath.
“Let’s not do anything we might regret, Portia.”
The feeling of relief that flooded her confirmed that she was definitely not ready. But what was holding
him
back?
The question hung in the air as she tried to read him.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s all I think about. But you’ve got this, like, sense of doom about you, and I don’t want you to do this just because you want to cross it off your bucket list, you know?” He turned back around to look at her. “There is nothing I want more in the world right now than to be with you. But I just don’t want it to be like this.”
She was impressed by his clarity, and her brain told her that he was one hundred percent right. But her body was having trouble following suit.
“You’re right,” she offered reluctantly. “I know that this isn’t so major for you—I’m sure you’ve been with other girls, but it’s a big thing for me—”
“Portia, I promise you, this is major for me, too. The way I feel about you is major. This,” he drew her hand up to his heart. “this is major.”
Portia smiled weakly. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“You are a gentleman, Max.”
“I try.” He rested his head back down on the pillow, and Portia eased her head back onto his waiting shoulder.
That’s when she felt it.
Like a bolt of lightning, the evil shocked her. A giant billboard flashed in her mind of Max, prostrate on his knees before her, bleeding and begging. The evil was stronger than ever. As if the devil himself was perched on her shoulder, shooting poisonous darts into her mind.
“Max, I gotta go.” She sat upright and made her way hurriedly to the door.
Don’t go, Portia. Why not stay and have a little fun?
Portia closed her eyes. It was like an amplifier had been installed in her head.
“What’s the matter?”
She couldn’t help but let her gaze travel over to the letter opener.
Go ahead. Pick it up. The thrill is indescribable
.
She needed to get out of there before she did anything she regretted.
“Nothing. I just have to go.”
It was threatening to choke her.
“Portia—wait!” Max started after her as she ran out his door.
Before she ran down the stairs, she turned around and stole a glance at him.
She hoped it wouldn’t be her last.