Forgotten memories

Grandmother gives me advice

I was standing outside with the literal god of war, and we talked about wrestling.

"So, you think Plato was a good philosopher, because he was a gold metal Olympic wrestler?" I asked in disbelief over the god of war's statement.

"Philosophy is something for Athena, but a philosopher that settles arguments with wrestling. That's my cup of tea!"

Ares chuckled, the deep resonance of his laughter filling the air. "Plato had the right idea, punk. Philosophy might be the domain of Athena but blending it with a bit of wrestling prowess adds a certain... practicality to the discourse."

I raised an eyebrow, still processing the fact that I was discussing philosophy and wrestling with the god of war. "So, you appreciate a good physical debate?"

Ares grinned. "Exactly! There's a raw honesty to it. No convoluted theories, just the strength and skill to back up your arguments. If only more philosophers settled their disputes in the wrestling ring, the world might be a more straightforward place."

I couldn't help but laugh at the surreal nature of our conversation. "I never thought I'd hear the god of war advocating for a more physical approach to philosophy. What about strategy? Isn't that more your style?"

Ares leaned against his sword; his muscular arms crossed on top of the hilt. "Oh, I appreciate strategy, no doubt. But there's a primal satisfaction in grappling with your opponent, feeling the struggle and asserting your dominance. It's a language that transcends words."

I scratched my head, still processing the unexpected philosophical perspective from the god of war. "So, if you were to engage in a philosophical debate, you'd prefer it to be a physical one?"

Ares nodded, his expression serious. "Absolutely. Words can be twisted, manipulated. But in the ring, there's a clarity. You either pin your opponent or you don't. No room for ambiguity."

As we continued our unlikely conversation about the intersection of philosophy and wrestling, I couldn't shake the irony of discussing intellectual pursuits with the god known for his love of battle. Yet, in Ares' perspective, perhaps there was a unique wisdom in the simplicity of physical contests – a philosophy that spoke to the primal nature of conflict and resolution.

After a while he pulled out Percy by the arm. He looked dazed like he had seen something he had never seen before. Ares held up the door for me and I thanked him while getting into the limo.

When I saw her, my jaw dropped. I forgot my name. I forgot where I was. I forgot how to speak in complete sentences. She was wearing a red satin dress, and her hair was curled in a cascade of ringlets. Her face was the most beautiful I'd ever seen. Perfect makeup, dazzling eyes, a smile that would've lit up the dark side of the moon. Thinking back on it, I can't tell you who she looked like. Or even what color her hair or her eyes were. Pick the most beautiful actress you can think of. The goddess was ten times more beautiful than that. Pick your favorite hair color, eye color, whatever. The goddess had that. When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Christine. Then like this television actress I used to have a crush on in fifth grade, wait what? Damn memories. Then... well, you get the idea.

"Ah, there you are, Hymenaios," the goddess said. "I am Aphrodite."

I slipped into the seat across from her and said in a high tone, "Um hi."

She smiled. "Aren't you sweet. Hold this, please."

She handed me a polished mirror the size of a dinner plate and had me hold it up for her. She leaned forward and dabbed at her lipstick, though I couldn't see anything wrong with it. I looked at her lipstick and felt something in my stomach. I said while not taking my eyes of her.