Page 16 of Bows & Eros
Once Ethan had begun to talk, he had commanded the whole of my attention.
I could not have recounted with any accuracy when the pancakes arrived, or who had brought them to us, or whether I poured the syrup on top or Ethan did. I didn't even remember taking up my fork and edging it into the fluffy stack, but I had definitely done so, because little by little, the pancakes were vanishing and my hunger was abating.
I could taste blueberry and milk chocolate and maple, I suppose, but it was muted, somewhere on one of the rear burners of my mind.
"I met Hermes in art school," Ethan had begun, spreading his hands on the table like he was preparing to count his mistakes as he went. "He was a brilliant burnout with a penchant for street art, and in my circles at that time in my life, that wasn't unusual at all. He was a weird guy, yeah, but so was everyone else, including me. No one thought it was odd that he'd vanish for varying lengths of time or that he seemed to know alotof people on every link of the food chain. He was fun and chaotic and easy to be around ... the charming troublemaker sort."
"Sounds familiar," I muttered, which at least got me half a smile.
"Eventually, I let him talk me into this figure study he was doing, wherein the model we were interpreting into our art was his cousin, Dita."
"Dita," I had repeated in half a whisper. "What did ... uh ... what didshelook like?"
Describe Aphrodite to me, I was saying, more or less.
Ethan had given a ragged half a laugh, shaking his head. "I don'tknow. I feel like she could walk up to us right now and I'd recognize her, but I couldn't describe her to you to save my life. I just remember thinking she was beautiful and that I couldn’t believe I was lucky enough to snag her interest for a little while before graduation. I moved into the city to start my career as a starving artist, and a few months later, she showed up with a baby, handed it to me, and I never saw her again. She sent support, though."
"Money?"
"Patrons," he answered, sounding just as baffled as I felt. "Suddenly I hadtonsof work, enough to support Aaron and myself, to hire help, to pursue my own goals while making sure my surprise son was taken care of. To be honest with you, I completely forgot about Hermes, and I rarely thought about Dita, even. It was like my mind had just decided to accept that I'd been handed a baby by a woman I couldn't picture or track down and questioning it wasn't even a consideration."
I realized I was holding a cup of coffee, the warmth spreading through my hands. It was a story that made very little sense, and yet I was getting the distinct feeling of satisfaction, as though it were exactly the explanation I was looking for.
"When Aaron was about seven, Hermes showed up at our door on Christmas Day," Ethan continued, poking at his pancakes. "He brought a whole stack of gifts with him and I was happy to see my old friend. I invited him into the little party I was having and let him spend time with his nephew while the guests unwrapped presents and ate Christmas dinner. The strangest thing about that memory really should be how nonchalant I felt about Hermes's presence. I didn't ask after Dita or ask where the hell he had been all these years. I just picked up right where we'd left off."
"That is weird, yeah," I agreed, wide-eyed.
"He gave Aaron these foam balls like to juggle with," Ethan said, stopping for a moment to take a bite of his food. "Aaron tossed a couple at guests because that's just the kind of kid he's always been, and ... well, I guess at the time I thought it was just too much eggnog. Those guests got extremely fresh with each other in short order and I ended up shutting the party down and closing up shop for the night."
"So this has happened before?"
"Yeah, I guess it has. It didn't really register at the time. Those people are happily married now, too."
"And Hermes?"
He laughed, scratching at the polish on the table, right over where the town church was etched on the map. "I have no idea when he left or how. He was gone, and I didn't really contemplate it until much later. If Aaron hadn't brought up the whole ordeal a few days later, I'm not confident I'd have even remembered it happening. Maybe that's what will happen to the people of Crete, hm? They'll all wake up tomorrow and think the last twenty-four hours were perfectly normal."
"Except for the ones who eloped," I replied, tilting my head. "Ethan, if I suffer memory loss tomorrow, I insist that you remind me. This isn't the type of thing I'm okay forgetting."
"Oh, no?" he teased. "I think maybe we're cut from different cloth."
"Different patterns at the very least," I replied with half a smile, looking up at him through my lashes from across the table.
He looked so guileless, so utterly willing to be open with me about the insanity that had been his life as a father. It made my heart ache a little.
I inched my hand across the table, looping my fingers over his. "I was harsh earlier. I suppose when you get absorbed in the type of work you do, it can be easy enough to miss the town newsletter."
"No, you were right," he replied heavily, flipping his hand over so that he could return my grip—an unexpected gesture that sent a spike of warmth into my chest. "There are even flyers around the diner for Family Fun Day. I've seen at least three since we got here. I have no excuse for missing it. They're hot pink."
I gave him a little grimace, deciding to withhold the information that I had been party to putting those flyers up in here a couple of weeks ago.
"I guess because Aaron never says anything, I've told myself he doesn't mind my absence," Ethan confessed with a little sigh. "But he's a kid. Kids want their parents' attention. If I had shown up, I bet Hermes wouldn't have."
"Honestly I'd really like to see his interpretation of subbing middle school math classes at this point. I'm sure it'd be exceptional."
Ethan chuckled. "I'm sure it would be."
The appearance of Edna Beaufort, the diner's owner and most invested waitress, startled us both enough that we broke our hands apart, each returning with renewed interest to our respective plates of pancakes. I somehow knew without looking up that she was smirking.
