Stay (I Missed You)

Two

Hera hugged each of her children individually as Zeus lugged her suitcases out of the trunk. "I'm gonna miss you, Mom," Hebe whispered in her ear. She was the youngest, a mere 14. Ares was less physically affectionate but he did hold on to her hug a few seconds longer than he usually did. Hephaestus wobbled over to her on his bad leg, hugging her. They returned to the car, and it was Zeus's turn to say his goodbye. He hugged her briefly and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye," she said. A pang of panic sprung into his heart. For some reason, he had the sense that this might be the last he saw of her. He brushed it off as meaningless paranoia. He briefly considered saying farewell with a deeper kiss, but he was unsure if Hera was in the mood for being affectionate with him.

She tugged her luggage into LAX, leaving Zeus and her children behind.

---

Stepping outside, Hera realized she was way too used to the LA heat. It was only 78 degrees Fahrenheit in the Saskatoon afternoon, while it was supposed to be 101 in California at the same time. She found the cabman she had scheduled, preparing for the overwhelming flood of emotions to return.

She stared out the window. Everything was so flat. There were barely any mountains in Saskatchewan. In LA, you could always see the sierra in the background of the sky. The Canadian prairies kept stretching on and on, continuing endlessly. The round straw bales were littered across the green grass. They passed a small lake with evergreen trees bordering it. The water was so clear, so cold. She was tempted to roll the window down and taste the fresh air.

By the time she arrived at Kneebone, she walked over to the nearby Canada post and bought some US-bound stamps. The postal clerk still worked there, now looking about 70 years old. She didn't bother telling him that she was Hera, Rhea's little girl who had been coming in since she could walk. Thankfully, no one seemed to recognize her. She quickly wrote a postcard to let Zeus and her children know that she arrived, and dropped it off to the postal clerk.

The evening was setting in when she started walking over to her old house. She took her time, counting every step on the way. It wasn't around the other houses in the neighborhoods. It was down a dirt road, a bit secluded from the rest of the town. She could see the dim light bulb in the living room. She knocked on the door, feeling her heart palpitating in anxiety. When no one answered the door, Hera peered through the window to see the silhouette of her mother, sitting completely still. She fished underneath the doormat for the key of the house, quietly opening the door not to startle her mother.

"Mom?" Hera scolded herself in her head. She forgot her mother was deaf for a moment. Had it really been that long? She remembered the ASL dictionary she had in her suitcase. It had been more than ten years since she signed to anyone. Hopefully it would all come back to her while she was in Kneebone.

Hera rolled her luggage in, setting it down next to the door. She was in the living room, and her mother was sitting blank-faced on the couch. Hera bent down in front of her and waved at her eyes. Rhea's pupils looked up, empty.

Mom? she signed. No response.

Mom, I am your daughter, Hera. Do you remember me? Again, no response.

Mom, please, I'm sorry. I didn't visit. Do you remember me? Rhea's eyes started to wander from Hera's face, looking around the room. Hera sighed, hoping that maybe she just didn't recognize her 40-year-old face.

Mom, I am H-E-R-A, fingerspelling clearly in front of her mother's eyes. H-E-R-A, and you are R-H-E-A. I'm here to take care of you. Hera stared, waiting for her mother to answer. Finally, she signed back.