God Was Busy

Chapter 14

From a night of more sleep than I expected, I woke up somehow —unrested, the morning was no different. I felt excited about today's work, and that scared me. I knew it wasn't the relaxing environment I was anticipating. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get there because there would be a chance, I would see Alexander. And that was very, very stupid. I should be avoiding him entirely after my brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday and the way Reah looked at us. I cleaned the gardens without a pause till I was tired, Unfortunately, it only kept my hands busy and let my mind wander in unwanted directions.

That's when I noticed a shadow, from a distance, he stood still like an impressive white figure. I realized, suddenly, what he reminded me of: the statue of Zeus in the Agora. though I subsequently found out the statue had been modeled on him, which made the resemblance rather less surprising.

I did what I was conditioned to do, work as if I am invisible like the rest of us covered with mud and sweat.

In my peripheral vision, I could see the shadow move toward the wooden bench near the Flower Bed I was working on. and I guessed he sat there enjoying his solitude. I had a dozen different arguments with myself as the minutes passed, I struggled with the rational urge to look in his direction. but I didn't.

"It's too bad about the weather, isn't it?" Alexander asked. The way he spoke the words got me thinking that he was here to talk to me and wanted a topic to start a conversation to make small talk with me. When I looked in, I almost regretted it, he sat in the far corner of the bench.

"Not really," I answered honestly, "couldn't have asked for a better day, 'instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. I said without stopping my hand movements.

"You look different than the others...." It seemed natural for him to question me, nor did expect me to mind. It was as though he had known me for a long time, and had met again after a lapse of years.

The cold, the silence, the garden seemed to bring the impossible within reach. I heard myself say without looking in his direction. "By others you mean "slaves?".

"No don't get me wrong, I mean people of Rhesus, even your name is unusual"

"My father was from Macedonia," I said and he gave me this unusual name.'' He could see I had no option but to collect leaves right Infront of him.

"Tell me about him," he said. I looked at him with confusion. It was not easy to explain my father and though he was always present in my mind, I never talked about him. He was my secret property. Preserved for times when I was alone. I had no wish to introduce him casually in the middle of searching for a topic for conversation.

"He was a scholar that died fourteen years ago,"

"Are you the daughter of the scholar that got killed in an attack?" immediate awareness lit his eyes.

"Yes sire, Aspacius Apazoglou,"

There was a strange air of unreality about that conversation. There was I, so much of a slave, who only days before had hated these people, prim, silent, and subdued, and today my family history was mine no longer, I spilled it out in front of the man I am not supposed to talk to. And I wasn't sure was trustable, for some reason I felt impelled to speak because his eyes followed me in sympathy.

"Rhesus must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.

"You have no idea," I muttered darkly. He looked fascinated by what I said, although I was sure I haven't said anything that will interest a man like him. I tried not to look in his direction more than courtesy absolutely demanded.