My mother turns to me. ‘I’ll be home soon, Kore,’ she says, her arms hanging limply by her sides like she wants to reach for me but doesn’t know if she can. ‘Finish your bridal quilt while I’m away and when we return –’
‘Now, Demeter,’ Father snaps.
My mother looks me in the eyes. ‘It’ll all be okay, Kore. Just be good while I’m gone.’
Then she leaves. I don’t get a final hug, a final kind word – or at least one not shaped for my father’s ears. I don’t get a proper goodbye.
And I don’t know when – or even if – I’ll see her again.
I wait until I hear the sound of hooves on the ground vanish as they race up to Olympus, and then I wait a few more moments just to be safe. Then I take a shaky breath and head outside.
Cyane is waiting just outside the door. She rushes up to me and pushes my hair out of my face, searching for a sign that something is wrong.
‘Dear?’ she asks.
I smile but it’s not so much a reaction as a reflex. ‘I thought I might pick some flowers for my betrothed.’
I was going to head down to the beaches and then to the groves, to say farewell to all the nymphs of this isle: the nereids, alseids, dryads, aurai, leimoniads and nymphs so specialized we don’t even have names for them. The thought of not hugging Syrinx one last time, of not seeing Egeria again …
But I know myself. And if I don’t do something now with this rush of emotions flooding through me I’ll push it all down and ignore it, and the next thing I know I’ll be married. If I’m going to do this, if I’m really going to disobey them all like this, then I need to do it now.
‘What flowers were you thinking of gathering?’ she asks.
‘Anemone and statice,’ I say without missing a beat. I gave flowers meaning in a vain attempt to make them more interesting, and the meanings for these two arehopelessnessandsympathy.
Cyane frowns and I don’t want that expression to be my final memory of her. ‘I do not think your mother would be best pleased with that.’
‘I’m only joking. I was thinking daisies, freesia and gardenia.’Purity, purity and more purity. What else would be suitable? ‘There are some in the meadow by the rockpool cove.’
‘That’s too far for me to stray from my stream,’ Cyane says. ‘Will you be okay to go alone?’
I nod and wrap my arms round her before I think better of it. ‘I’ll be back soon. I love you.’
If she thinks my display of affection odd, she does not mention it. Maybe she just thinks it’s because I’ll be leaving soon.
Although some of us know it will be a lot sooner.
‘I love you too, dear,’ she says, letting me go.
With that, I turn and walk away from the only life I’ve known. Once I’m out of Cyane’s sight, I run from it.
I can sense the flowers, though they aren’t the ones I told Cyane I was going to.
I think of my naming day and how I’d wanted more.
I still want more.
I love flowers; it’s true. I love them so much the thought of leaving them behind makes me want to reconsider this whole thing. I love the way they smell, the way they look, the way they change. Mostly, I love the way they make me feel, like I’m connected to something so much bigger than myself.
I have done the best with what little I’ve had. I’ve made flowers to please the eye and aid nature. I’ve made flowers in intricate shapes, constructions more complicated than the architects of Mount Olympus could dare hope to create. I’ve given flowers meanings, shaped them into language to make them more than anyone could ever have thought they would be.
I’ve given roses thorns and made flowers that sting, that bite, that can kill a man in seconds.
And I’ve made tools too, spades and pitches and shears that I take to my dress now, slicing through the binding laces, tearing off inches at the bottom, the muddy hem that has been threatening to trip me this entire time. The ripped edges tickle my ankles – a much better length. If this fails, at least my mother will be furious. That’s something. At least my husband will know he is marrying a wild spirit and not a dutiful little girl.
Oh, and I made sickles, small curved blades to cut flowers,but I imagine they have other uses. I strap one to my thigh with a length of fabric. It never hurts to be prepared.
I cannot believe I’m doing this.
