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Chapter 11 – Aphrodite’s Harem
Ruby
Amber’s door swung open, and Jace ducked inside, kissing his aunt on the cheek on his way past. She smoothed his curls as he slipped past her.
“That kid’s a shadow,” Amber commented with a bemused smile on her pretty face.
If Jace was a shadow, Alex was the sun. Seeing them walking together was a study in opposites. My boy, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, loped along, quietly studying the world around him, his lips tipped up on one side in pleasure or amusement. Amber’s boy was laughter and light in constant motion, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands sweeping in wide arcs as he spoke, his little face forever animated.
“Is Minty here yet?” I asked, dropping my purse on the hall table, and hugging my sister.
“Of course not!” Amber replied, laughing. “She’s always late.”
Just then, Amber’s phone sounded a notification and she picked it up. “That’s her now. She wants to know if we want anything from Shop the Parthenon.
“Mm, yes, dolmadakia and halva.”
“You’re disgusting,” Amber muttered as she texted my request.
We didn’t share the same food preferences. Amber hated dolmadakia with a passion most would reserve for world hunger. She leaned toward meat and potatoes with a side of veggies, with everything on her plate keeping a respectable distance. I loved casseroles and stews. With our differing food preferences, Yiayia did a lot of extra cooking while we were growing up, determined that we ate until we choked every single night.
“What are you ordering?” I challenged.
“Olives,” she smirked.
Olives were Amber’s one tell of our father’s Greek heritage. Where my eyes and hair were dark, hers were light. I spoke and loved the language, she struggled with it. I loved all Greek food, her preference was Canadian, with one exception. If there was an olive, any kind of olive within her reach, she’d eat it.
Tonight, we had our Bookstagram night. When Amber and Angus split, Minty got us hooked on Bookstagram. The three of us shared the one account and posted reviews weekly.
We named it Aphrodite’s Harem. It was a drunken decision and we stuck by it. To the Bookstagram world, we were one woman. A fantasy woman. A woman who exuded sensuality. A woman at whose feet men fell. A woman unafraid and uncowed by her sexuality, unabashedly collecting book boyfriends and keeping them. A woman who was confident and self-assured.
None of us fit that picture, which made up half its entertainment value for us.
Minty was proper, with a capital P. She made Yiayia ‘very proud’ and forever held Minty up to Amber and me as an example of perfect femininity. Minty dressed beautifully, and applied her makeup impeccably, anytime she left the house. She kept her home in pristine condition, hosted like a queen, and was unfailingly polite.
Amber was feminine and romantic. She loved vintage clothing and antiques, especially knickknacks and jewelry. We both understood that while Yiayia’s ruby ring would go to me, the rest would go to Amber, who shared Yiayia’s love for sparkly things. Amber thrived in her profession, which was helping people. She wore her dirty blond hair long and unencumbered. She favored loose, flowing dresses with flip-flops and eschewed makeup. More often than not, she could be found with her nose in a book. She was quiet, contained, gentle, and nurturing. In contrast, she boasted a bawdy sense of humor.
I wore jeans and a t-shirt, caps and running shoes, oversized hoodies and pyjama pants, mostly because I always seemed to be running to catch up and organize myself. When I did dress up, I gravitated towards boots and jeans. I liked to play with makeup, but usually kept it light. For special occasions, I tended toward simple dresses and pantsuits. Vander’s cross, always, no matter the outfit. That had not changed.
Vander had reached out to me, several times over the past six years, but I never responded. I feared what I’d find out if I spoke to him, and how that might affect me. I had a son to raise, one that should have belonged to him, and I could no longer afford to be decapacitated by a broken heart. It took over a decade, his leaving me a second time, and a surprise pregnancy, but eventually I accepted that Vander and I were not to be. However firmly I believed in my heart that we were meant to be, we had missed our opportunity.
I touched the outline of his cross under my shirt. I should stop wearing it. Every time I touched it, I thought of him. At times, he even snuck into my dreams for the future, but I shook them off.
I wished I didn’t have to shake them off so often. I sighed. Perhaps I should pack it away.
Amber came back from the games’ room, where she set the boys up for the night. She had a three-bedroom condo that she moved into after she separated from Angus. I thought it odd that she moved out of their family home with Alex, while Angus had stayed there by himself. Nevertheless, one of those bedrooms she made into a games’ room for Alex.
“They settled?” I asked.
She nodded, giving me her easy smile. “They’re good. It always sounds like Alex is talking to himself in there because Jace is so quiet!”
We listened for a moment. I had to listen hard to hear Jace’s low murmur. We burst out laughing and Amber threw an arm around me.
“You alright?” She asked, studying me as she sometimes did.
“I’m okay. I wanted to ask you the same thing. Have you seen Angus lately?”
Amber’s eyes reflected her deep sadness. It used to be a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness that would flash in those light brown depths, then pain. Lately, sadness resided there alone.
