Page 26 of The Golden Hour

A virginal nymph sworn to Artemis, Callisto caught the eye of randy Zeus. The god tricked her, seduced her, impregnated her, then wiped his hands of the crime. For her trouble, Callisto was turned into a bear. For years, she roamed alone in the wilderness, but one day her grown son came upon her while hunting. Before the son could kill his mother-turned-bear or vice versa, some benevolent deity acted and placed Callisto in the sky.

There she remains, safe from the vile deeds of men and god alike, untarnished by time or fear.

And utterly alone.

15

I hear familiar voices inside the kitchen. My heart swells with the need to race inside to see my sisters, but some instinct makes me pause outside. As I listen to the conversation, nerves tickle my throat and shorten my breath.

Six years is a long time, and the kids I remember are women now, twenty-two and nineteen years old. Vivian said Ellie is at UCLA, and Lizzie would have graduated high school last year.

“It’s weird, is all.” Ellie’s voice, drawling and dismissive.

“Who cares?” asks a higher, smoother voice. Lizzie. “I can’t wait to see her. I wonder if she’s changed. Does she look different, Mom?”

“Not especially,” Vivian answers, sounding as bored as Ellie. “And given her lateness for breakfast, she hasn’t changed much, either.”

Back from the dead and nothing’s changed. The insult is so familiar it triggers nostalgia. I’ve never been a morning person, and Vivian has never wasted a chance to demean me for it.

A maid leaves the kitchen, turning the corner with quick steps, and yelps when we nearly collide.

“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly, stepping out of her way.

Selina, wide-eyed, whispers, “Forgive me.”

Before I can tell her that’s ridiculous, that it was my fault, Vivian’s voice rings out, “Callisto, is that you?”

“Here goes nothing,” I whisper, then call out, “Yes, coming!”

Selina mouths, “Good luck,” and scurries past me.

I glance after her, bemused, and when I turn back around, a slender form barrels into me.

“Holy shit, I’m so glad you’re alive,” Lizzie cries with a half sob, half laugh.

“Language!” snaps Vivian.

I hug Lizzie back, pressing my face into her honey-blond hair. She smells the same—like the fruity lotion she loves. Tears prick like hot needles behind my eyelids as memories race through me. All the happy times with my siblings I’ve worked so hard to forget. Mud pies, skinned knees, and hide-and-go-seek. And later, staying up to all hours braiding each other’s hair, painting our nails, and cutting up magazines to make dream boards.

Opening my eyes, I look over Lizzie’s shoulder and meet Ellie’s hard, sea-green gaze. Standing next to her mother with her arms crossed, she looks about as happy to see me as a hangnail.

As the closest in age, we’ve always had a complex relationship. But it changed at puberty when Ellie decided I wasn’t her friend but her competition—a betrayal of our bond I never understood. She was always brighter, bolder, and more beautiful. The crown jewel of the family, while I was ever on the outside, the sister who didn’t belong. While we’ve enjoyed periods of renewed closeness—especially when her first boyfriend broke her heart in high school—a thread of tension lives between us that doesn’t exist between me and Lizzie.

Still, when Lizzie releases me, I walk to Ellie and hug her hard. Slowly, her body loses tension and her arms lift to return my embrace. It’s lackluster compared to Lizzie’s, but it’s something.

“It’s so good to see you,” I tell her, leaning back to see that her eyes have somewhat thawed.

“You too,” she says, then sniffs and looks at Vivian. “Like I said earlier, I can’t stay. I have a paper to write.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Vivian speaks first. “Very well. Will you be here for Thursday dinner?”

“I have to check my schedule—”

“Eleanor.”

Lizzie snorts, which earns her a sharp glance from Vivian.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll be here.”

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