chasing an illusion - pipabeth

21- the david

"dad, i'm bored." i whine at my father's desk. i must have been very young. maybe nine or ten.

"go play outside, annabeth, i'm working."

"i can't, there's a giant spiderweb outside the door!" i peer over his desk. "what are you writing?"

"a paper."

"about what?"

"about the trojan war. i'm writing a thesis discussing if the trojan war depicted in the illiad was based on a real event or a work of fiction. go read your books."

"i already read all of them, dad." my stepmom had gone out and bought me books. little short books meant for kids. fairies and princess stories. stuff like that. "is that the one with the big wooden horse?"

my dad sighs and turns up the volume on the radio playing classical music. there is the deep sound of the cello. he picks up a book from his desk and hands it to me. it's big and heavy with a cover with no sparkles and curly title fonts. just the words, "the illiad by homer".

"it's a big book, can you handle it?" my dad asked me. he won't even look at me. he's still just absorbed in his work.

i grasp the heavy book with my little hands. it seems older than i am. it seems bigger than i'll ever be. i narrow my eyes at the title of the book. homer, huh? dad doesn't think i can handle a little homer. i bet i can read it and have intelligent conversation with my dad. we can talk all about the trojan war and whatever. and i won't have to play with my baby not-brothers who fart all the time.

"duh, i can handle it." i answer pridefully.

"mhm," he answers distractedly.

i scurry off with the book, eager to prove myself. i was so young and yet i wanted to be everything. i wanted to be someone worth attention. i wanted to be smarter. better.

i guess that's when the war started.

i crack open my eyes.

5:00 a.m. once again. i wake up to the sounds of the deep cello. i'm laying on the couch with a blanket over me. piper is not here. why does it always feel like she comes and goes like a spirit? i never know when she will leave or reappear. it's strange to accustom myself to not knowing.

my stepbrother was obsessed with magic shows. i hated them.

"they're just illusions." i'd say.

"oh yeah? then you do it. you make salt come out of your ear." he'd retort. and it always irked me that i couldn't figure it out. who am i if i can't decode a trick? catch an illusion?

i feel a rush of everything coming back to me.

there's a dark stillness in the apartment. the empty pint of ice cream is still on the coffee table. the tv screen is blank. piper must have turned it off when i fell asleep. i push the blanket aside and check my phone. the battery is low. i turn off the alarm.

i feel a sudden rush of anger.

why did i do this? why does my back hurt? why do i always have to fight myself? why do i have to prove myself all the time? why didn't i charge my stupid phone? why didn't i just settle for the oboist? why do i expect so highly of myself? where the hell is piper? and why did my dad give a fucking ten year old the illiad as for-fun reading material?

i guess he expected highly of me, too.

either that or he just wanted to keep me busy.

i get up and start making coffee, grumbling to myself.

"hey, annabeth, i see you're up bright and early." i hear a voice from behind me. arms wrap around my waist. i feel her warmth around me. "good morning."

and i feel my shoulders relax.

"how are we feeling this morning?" she asks me.

"i'm frustrated, piper." i say bitterly as i wait for the water to boil. "i'm mad at myself."

"annabeth, you can't hate yourself and expect to be happy."

"i know. that just makes me madder."

"well, then get mad. but stop being mad at yourself."

"i'm not getting mad at you, piper."

piper sighs, releasing me. "hey, go get ready. i'll make the coffee."

so i do. i look at myself in the bright lights of the bathroom as the water runs. i look tired. my eyes don't seem my own anymore. my hair is a tousled mess. the bathroom light makes my skin look sickly. everything seems different from how i remember myself six years ago. i had let something take over me.

and why?

for some idea of myself that i had let manifest in me because i was affectionless? my dad didn't pay attention to me so i decided that i'll read fat books and maybe he would notice me. piper left so i decided that i would bury myself in work and never fall in love again. and i have been adding onto this chase for order and success ever since. this perfect image of myself. where everyone respects me and my work because people never seem to. where i can prove myself as something bigger than myself. maybe then, only then, i could allow myself to be loved. its just a chase for something that will only grow farther away. chasing a rainbow. chasing an illusion.

i look in the mirror, and that's not it. i look in the mirror and see someone pathetic.

why should i let them win? why should i fight myself and let them win?

i brush my teeth angrily, staring at the figure that doesn't look like me in the mirror.

a country with civil internal turmoil doesn't win wars. in short, i cannot win this if i am fighting myself. if i'm going to fight, i'm going to fight for me, not against me.

so what? i'm a gay woman, trying to rise to the top in architecture. i'm dating a musician. so fucking what? i'll have to work hard to gain respect. i'll have to work twice as hard to prove myself.

but so what?

i've been doing that since birth. i wash my face and i open my eyes and i see someone else. i see what could be.

the david in the marble.

i put in the earrings piper gave me like armor. i pull my hair up so everyone can see them dangling. i put on my work heels that click loudly when i walk swiftly. i walk the way my mother always taught me.

"you look different," piper remarks when i walk out, dressed and ready for work.

"thanks," i say. she hands me a thermos of coffee.

"i love you." she says. she kisses me on the lips. i close my eyes and i see stars.

"i love you." i respond, placing my hand on her cheek. it's warm against my hand. holding her is like holding a small fire. something stolen. something forbidden. warmth with a consequence. love with a price. holding her like a light to see the world anew, to keep me warm, to sustain me. i am prometheus and she is the light and this feeling i feel rising in me is humanity. "you were right." i tell her. she always is, one way or another.

piper smiles that smile of hers that gets me every time.