Caleo: I Will Find You

Calypso's POV 9

I tried not to think of all the things that Lady Aphrodite could send Leo's way.

Monsters, gods, demigods with a Percy Jackson hang up. Percy had made many enemies throughout the years, and since he was on the ship with Leo, that could make everyone with a Son of Poseidon complex come after the crew of the Argo II. Or, since Aphrodite had said Leo specifically, any enemies that the son of Hephaestus had made over time could be zapped right onto his deck. 

Like I said... not thinking about it.

I'd grown to hate my chores. I used to find solace in the routine of weeding around my moonlace, but I'd done that so often that it was no longer comforting. It was annoying. 

Everything was annoying with Leo gone. 

The sun didn't shine the same way it used to. Before, with Leo, it had been warm, and life-giving, and something that made your insides sing with glee as the rays shone down on your arms, lighting you up inside and out. Now, with him gone? It was too bright, too hot, favoring some spots of the island over the others, no longer something that you relished in as you lay on your towel in the sand. Now, as soon as you saw it, you grabbed your sunglasses and you turned yourself away.

And the water? It used to be stunningly beautiful, the blue a different shade than the sky, glimmering in the radiation of the sun, clear enough to see the bottom and the gorgeous coral reefs where the marine life lived. The water had never seemed cold before, not here, and when it engulfed you up to your shoulders, it was easy to feel at peace. 

Now? Well. Now I don't even put my toes in the water for fear of the new chill. I used to walk along the edge of the waves, tiptoeing around hermit crabs and kicking little puddles of seaweed. I used to dive into incoming waves headfirst, careless, enjoying the way the salt water felt as it undid my braid, hair hanging damp on my shoulders when I went inside for lunch. I used to love to watch the way the moonlight rippled on the water in the evening, the waves turning black from lack of the sun. 

Everything used to be different when Leo was around. And now? Nothing's the same, all the enjoyment in the small things has evaporated without warning. 

And I know what they say. "Don't let a boy be the reason you smile." And I get it, too! I understand that you're responsible for your own happiness. But you know what? Those rules don't apply when you're isolated on an island for eternity, being blessed with the excitement of seeing new people every couple of years when they find you on accident. Nobody's actively looking for you, ever. So sue me for finding happiness in being the center of someone's attention on occasion. 

That's not fair, I tell myself sometimes, when this train of thought abrupts my sleep. I'll stare at the ceiling, my thin white throw blanket tangled in my ankles, strings of unkempt hair in my face, the moonlight filtering through the window. Leo's looking for you.

But how can I keep telling myself something I'm not sure is true? I have no real evidence that he's even alive anymore, let alone evidence that points to him searching for me. I can pretend that the Argo II is near all I want, but for all I know, he's lightyears away and I've got my hopes up for nothing.

It's not fair of me to doubt him. I know he's got more determination than anyone I've ever known. And I know I should trust his word, and I have, for what feels like forever.

But I've been through this before. Countless of lost sailors have promised they'll return, and I've never seen them again. They could all be dead. They could be happily married with kids. They could be anything in the world, and all I'll be is someone stuck in a place that doesn't exist.

I'll wait for him forever. That's all I'm good at doing, anyway. 

But my optimism is fading, as it does. I don't want to be clinging to falsehoods when I don't have to be. It'll cause me less pain in the end if I accept that he won't ever be back, and man, won't I be surprised if he makes it back here again.

That's all it is, however. One big if. One gigantic he might be back. Might.

I live in a world of maybes and perhapses. And I won't forget that.

The minute I do I'll go insane, if I'm not already.