Lost at Sea

Ch. 12

When she woke in the morning, he was gone.

He hadn't left her with nothing, though. On the bedside table, there was a note. It read:

Dearest Sally Jackson,

I apologize for not giving a formal goodbye. It was simply too much for me to bear. You are truly a queen among women, and deserve so much more than I've been able to give you.

It's best that I leave now. I'm sure that if you were to spend any more time with me, you'd soon grow sick of me and want to move on anyway. And aside from that, good things rarely befall the lovers of gods. It's good that I leave now before anything can happen to you.

Still, it seems utterly unfathomable that this is the last time we'll see each other. And it doesn't have to be.

Remember that golden coin I left for you that first time I came to the diner? I know you still have it. It's a drachma. If you ever want to see me, simply toss it into a spray of water with the shimmer of a rainbow and speak my name. I'll come to you.

Of course, no pressure. If you never want to see me ever again, that is your right. But if you do, choose the moment wisely. It will only work once.

I hope I will see you again, Sally Jackson.

Forever Yours,

Poseidon

Sally clutched the letter to her chest, tears streaming down her face. She spent the rest of the day in bed, sobbing off and on, and making her way through the massive tub of ice cream in the freezer that Sally had insisted on picking up the week before.

The next morning, she woke puffy-eyed and sore. She stumbled out of bed and into the steaming hot shower. When she was satisfied that her eyes were only a little red and that she looked semi-presentable, she left the cabin and made her way to the diner to try and get her job back.

The owner of the diner was a little gruff with her, displeased that she'd quit halfway through the busy season. But it was fall, and the vacationing teenagers were all in school, and he was now short staffed. She started again that day.

The rest of autumn passed by in a blur. Compared to the excitement and adventure of the summer, everything seemed so painfully normal and dreary. She worked, but not as much as she had at the start of summer, allowing her time to read and write and plan, all from the comfort of the too-lonely cabin. She resolved to only stay through the end of winter. By the time spring hit, she would be on her way.

She tried going down to the docks a few times to strike up conversation with the naiads she and Poseidon had spoken to before, but without the god they were largely disinterested in her, if not downright rude.

September bled into October, then November, and finally it was Christmas Eve. Sally sat huddled by the fireplace, curled up under a blanket and sipping a mug of hot cocoa while she watched the lights twinkle on the small Christmas tree she'd purchased, thinking it was ironic. Despite everything she knew and had experienced, she couldn't help the soft spot she had for the holiday. It wasn't like she and her parents had ever done much to celebrate. But she did have faint memories of her parents going all out for the holiday season.

After a while, she grew restless. She layered up, throwing a blanket around her shoulders for good measure, and stepped outside the cabin into the frigid night air. It was slightly drizzling, so she pulled her hood up. And continued down the beach. She often went on walks like this to clear her head, headless of the weather conditions.

She'd been walking for about a half mile or so when she drew near a light post, casting a faint flow over the boardwalk to its side. That was strange; most of the light posts had been shut off at the end of the tourist season. There must have been some sort of mechanical mix up. As she gazed curiously up at the light fixture, rain pouring down all around it, she couldn't help but notice the slightest refraction of color. It was just barely visible, but it was there: a small rainbow, in the middle of this dark storm.

Sally frantically searched her pockets, afraid for a moment that it wouldn't be there. But of course it was; she never went anywhere without it. She pulled out the golden drachma, stared at it, tense with unsurety and excitement, and tossed it into the rainbow overhead. "Poseidon," she whispered. The coin vanished into thin air.

She frantically searched around her, hoping to catch sight of that familiar dark hair and easygoing smile. She waited for five minutes, then ten. After a half hour had passed, she grew discouraged. Had she done something wrong? But no, she hadn't. She'd read that letter more times than she could count; she knew the instructions to the letter. He just wasn't coming. Soaked to the bones, she turned and walked back toward the cabin, more heartbroken than she'd been when he left.

She opened the cabin door and blindly stumbled in, water in her eyes. She slogged off the blanket and her jacket, hanging them on the back of the door. When she turned back her breath caught in her chest.

"Sally."

And she was across the room in an instant, leaping into his arms and pulling him into a tight embrace. Poseidon held her fiercely, nuzzling his face into her hair. "I thought you'd never call," he whispered.

"I thought you'd never come," she whispered back. And soon they were kissing, and it was just like it had been before, like nothing had changed at all. They knew every detail of each other so perfectly, but as they embraced it was like they were discovering everything again for the first time. Sally's heart could have burst from happiness, and when she met Poseidon's eyes, she knew the same was true for him.

When she awoke the next morning, Sally was almost too afraid to open her eyes. She didn't know what she would do if she saw that the bed was empty. But open them she did, and she found Poseidon staring back at her, like she had a hundred times before.

"Good morning," she said, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

"Good morning," he responded.

"Merry Christmas."

"What? Oh. The pagan thing."

"Not quite what most people say when they think of Christmas, but you're not wrong." She rolled over so that her back was pressed against his chest. "How long do we have?"

"Not long," he responded sadly. "Noon, maybe."

"Noon," she repeated. Then, without preamble: "I'm pregnant."