A wolf-hawk screeched far off in the distance, but it came into the ears of strong-armed Gaiatrie as only a few, quiet notes squeezed between the sweet rustle of wind through the blossoming olive leaves and gurgle of the stream that sustained them along with the rest of the farm’s crops. She smiled up at the sky from where she sat near Anepithymitos under a small, colonnade structure. Though half of her meal was still on her potted plate in her lap, she could not ignore the omen urging her to ask him the thing that was on both of their minds. Surely, if it was sent from the Gods, they would forgive her sudden disregard of xenia.
“You just must tell me,” began the young woman, “for I cannot fathom it myself. What news, Pithy?” She turned her head towards him, smiling.
He had been looking at her in some forlorn manner, but he looked away as soon as he was given attention. He played with the leaf he had held for the last hour. It’s almost shredded state seemed to mirror his demeanor.
“I won the scholarship,” he said. The words seemed to choke him as he glanced with uncommon nervousness towards his friend.
A yelped laugh bubbled from her throat. She placed her plate beside her at a safe distance which allowed her to get to her knees. On them, she walked the short distance to Pithy and gently grabbed his face. “Aaaah, a philosopher!” she exclaimed joyfully before pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, then sitting back on the heels of her feet.
The young man looked stunned, but also may have been caught leaning away quickly after leaning into the kiss. He looked away sheepishly, before mumbling. “I leave for Phasekion tomorrow…and then…and then off-world later in the week,” he said. He sounded almost sad.
She furrowed her fair brow. “Is that not good?” She took her hands into her lap. “You get to quickly follow your dream, like me and my discus.”
His head tipped back in what looked like frustration. His hair was stretched a bit by fingers running through it, probably not helping the early signs of eventual baldness. “It is. It is fine. But I find myself wanting some other dream, now that this one is laid before me,” he said, his sad eyes moving from the stream to fall hopefully on Gaia.
Hers widened under his sustained gaze. “No, no, Pithy, please do not say that.”
“We have known one another since my memories began, and I have loved you longer,” he said, pushing away from the balustrade and approaching her. His hands were outstretched, palms up as if waiting for her to allow him to help her up.
Instead, she leaned back, extended arms behind her, and scooted away. Then, quickly rearranging her legs, she stood herself up. “Nonsense. Fate does not favor us any more than as friends.”
He paused, a mix of emotions crossing his face. “I see your aptitude for felicity has not forsaken you…friend,” he said, voice shaking before beginning to hurriedly collect his belongings.
Salmon flush immediately rose to her cheeks. She seized forward, grasping at his retreating form. “I only mean…” she began, searching out his eyes, hoping he would stop for a moment or two.
He spun around, eyes with a last glimpse of the hope she had seen drain away so quickly.
She tried to think of the next word to her sentence, but none came, possibly because any conclusion would lead him down a path she would not go. “Forgive me, Pithy,” she replied instead. “I cannot be whom you wish. You would resent a wife like me.”
“I love you, Gaia…I…love…”
“No, no, you…”
“...we could be happy…”
“...do not. You love learning…”
“...I could teach at the school…”
“...yes, you will learn to love Chandrila…”
“...and I would come to watch you throw…”
“No, stop this...”
“...I could afford a room at the inn to start with…”
“Pithy…”
“...we can save and buy some land…”
“I do not wish to leave!”
He paused, blinking. His cheeks red, and his breathing rapid. “I know. And I want to stay with you.”
Gaia pouted. When she spoke again, she responded slowly and evenly, returned to her natural volume. “I do not dare to doubt your current conviction, but, in as little as six months…”
He shook his head, no.
“...you shall loathe to see my wedding veil in the closet…”
“No.”
“...and wish to salt this very land.” She glanced down as she dug her bare toes into the dirt to wordlessly clarify her meaning. “You will hate it here…”
“No, Gaia, that is untrue.”
“You will dream of what waited for you across the star-sea and you will hate this life…”
He looked away from her and turned his back.
“...for having kept you from it. I…do not want you to grow to hate me, Pithy.”
“I could not…”
“We are good for each other.”
He shot a glance over his shoulder. “Yes. Yes, we are.”
“The noble Gods made sure of that and I thank Them every day, but we were not meant for this future which you see.”
“The Gods,” he almost laughed before muttering, “curse the Gods for teasing me with happiness.”
Frustration began welling in her eyes. “But we were happy…”
“You were.”
Gaiatrie put her hands as cups to her mouth and stepped back once, twice. “See?” It was her turn to waiver in tone. “I am the villain. You like me no longer.”
He shook his head slowly. “Love does not fade so easily, Gaia. For I have carried it for years. Praying the Gods that they would remove it for fear you did not feel the same. And now I find an absence within you of that which I have had burning through my chest…”
He stooped to pick up the last of his books that had been tied together with a rope Gaia had provided.
“...you will forget this day. And you will marry some athlete…broad of shoulder…and you will love him, because your capacity for such is so great. It was just…never…for me.”
He did not possibly know that, but Gaia did not wish to argue any further. After drawing a shaking breath to steel her next few syllables and holding her head as high as she could, she said, “Do not forget to learn about yourself at university.”
And then she was turned on her heel. She walked down the gently sloping bank towards the river, then across it, feet not nearly as uncomfortably cold as her heart. Cleaning up half-eaten spanakopita and last year’s olive jam was a problem for tomorrow.
