Lost at Sea

Ch. 5

The god of the sea insisted on having her over for dinner. She was positive that stranger things must have happened, but at the moment she couldn't imagine any.

Maybe it was because he could tell she was in shock, and wanted to make sure she was in a sound mental state before sending her back out into the regular, god-less world. Maybe having mortals over for dinner was some form of godly amusement. Whatever the reason, Sally found herself seated at a small table in a cozy cabin just down the beach. She hadn't even thought to refuse; was that an option, when the person asking wasn't a person at all?

The man -- or Poseidon, rather -- stood at the counter, a cutting board, knife and a fresh batch of carrots in front of him. He'd put on a bright orange Hawaiian shirt when they'd entered, which would have looked ridiculous on anyone else but somehow complemented his dark hair and green eyes.

The rest of the cabin was surprisingly cozy and modest, not exactly the type of residence you'd expect a god to have. A couch sat across from the fireplace in the living room, and across the way was a closed door that she assumed led to a bedroom.

"If--" she cleared her throat, "if you're a god, can't you just, I don't know, make food magically appear?"

He smiled without turning to her. "Yes. But I figured you'd seen enough impossible things for one day. And besides, I enjoy preparing meals on occasion. It makes me feel... connected to your world." He began to chop the carrots in a steady rhythm.

"So... why here? I mean, why Montauk? If you're a Greek god, then, shouldn't you be somewhere around the Mediterranean?"

"Ah, the timeless question. There are a lot of different factors, of course, but what it all comes down to is Western Civilization. The spirit of the Greeks has always lied in the heart of the West, and we move with it. Right now, it just so happens that our base of operations, so to speak, is in New York City. I'm not much one for the crowds, though. Usually I spend most of my time in my palace at the bottom of the sea, but it's nice to get away once in a while, you know? A nice vacation. If mortals spend the summer in Montauk, why can't a god?"

She didn't have an answer to that. Finished with slicing the carrots, he poured them into a large pan with a drizzle of oil, then placed it on top of the stove burner. "Vegetable oil," he said. "Hope you don't mind. I know most prefer olive oil, but I can't stand the stuff. Negative associations."

"Vegetable oil is fine."

As she watched him start up another burner and prepare a pan with fish, a million questions raced through Sally's mind with no way to ask them. So, what's it like living underwater? hardly seemed intelligent or refined. If she was going to dine with a god, she may as well exhibit the proper behavior. She absentmindedly scratched the bottom of the table, her fingers itching for her pencil and notebook to write everything down before it slipped away like a dream.

"Have you been coming to Montauk long, then?" That seemed like a reasonably safe, non-embarrassing question.

"Oh, just a few decades or so. I haven't been able to get away in years, though. It's good to be back."

Decades. She knew he must be far older than that, if she believed he was who he said he was. Which she did. But it was still so strange to think that someone who looked like he was in his early twenties could throw around "decades" so casually.

He must have sensed her unease, because then he said, "I forget how differently time passes for you mortals. I know I must seem ancient. But my spirit, I promise, is as fresh and vibrant as any young man out there." He winked before turning back to the stove, and she couldn't help the heat rising to her cheeks.