Homer's Excellent Adventure

by P. J. Hoover

  “Elpenor!” Odysseus said. “What are you doing here?”

  It was obvious that he was being dead here. He didn’t act like he recognized us at all. Instead, he drifted forward, sniffing the air, until he was right in front of the jar of black blood. Without a word, he lifted the jar to his mouth and drank. His lips were covered in the blood, but he licked them clean and recognition finally registered in his eyes.

  “King Odysseus, you left me,” he said.

  “Left you?” Odysseus said. “We stayed for a year. Then we sailed on. Why weren’t you on the ship when we set sail?”

  Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen this guy since before we left the island.

  “I fell off a roof, man,” Elpenor said. “Nobody noticed.”

  “Fell off a roof?” Odysseus said. “Why in the name of the gods would you do that?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Elpenor said. “It was an accident. I had way too much of that mead. And now all these animals are grazing around my body, peeing on me. Maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you could come back and bury me.”

  Everyone knew you had to bury the dead. Otherwise they’d never be at rest. It was just one of those things taught since birth. Respected.

  “Consider it done,” Odysseus said because this was his crewmate. “We will give you the rest you deserve.”

  “Thank you,” Elpenor said.

  “Oh, and sorry that nobody noticed,” I added. That seemed like the worst part of it. That this poor guy had gone and fallen off the roof and died and nobody had even noticed he was gone. I liked to think that Dory, at least, had my back should I ever fall off a roof and die.

  “It’s good to have friends,” Elpenor said, and then he walked away.

  Some old guy walked up to us next. No wait. It was a lady. No, that wasn’t right. It was a guy, but he looked a lot like a woman with his long hair as the lights around the shore shone down on him. He didn’t even look at the jar of blood.

  “King Odysseus,” the old guy said.

  “Prophet Tiresias,” Odysseus said, and he bowed low.

  “Prophet!” the old guy said. “That’s a hoot! I haven’t told a prophecy in years.”

  This wasn’t sounding all that encouraging.

  “We come for your help,” Odysseus said.

  “Help! What help can I offer the King of Ithaca?” Tiresias said.

  “Well, man, that’s the problem,” Odysseus said. “We’re having a bit of an issue getting back.” And Odysseus told him all about the cyclops and our fight with Poseidon, and how now Poseidon was making it super hard for us to get home.

  “You messed up, Odysseus,” Tiresias said. “You shouldn’t have made the god angry in the first place.”

  Odysseus pursed his lips. “Be that as it may be, the damage is done. What can I do about it now?”

  “Not much,” Tiresias said. “Except try to make it up to the god.”

  “And how should I do that?” Odysseus said. “I seek your guidance.”

  Tiresias pulled a rolled-up scroll out from under his robes. “I’ve got a twelve step plan for you, including what you should do once you get back to Ithaca,” he said, handing it over. “But I’m going to warn you. It’s not easy. The first step is the hardest. You have to admit that you’re powerless in the face of the gods.”

  Odysseus studied the list, and his eyes narrowed with each line he read.

  “Hmmm …,” Odysseus said. “These steps will not be easy.”

  Nothing on this journey had been easy so far. I didn’t see how Odysseus thought anything was going to change.

  “But if this is what it takes, then I will make it my master,” Odysseus said, stuffing the list into his pocket.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Tiresias said. “Don’t eat the cattle.”

  “What cattle?” Odysseus asked, but Tiresias faded away.

  “So, we got what we came for?” I said.

  “Possibly,” Odysseus said, but then another person appeared on the shore and walked over to the jar.

  “Mother,” Odysseus said when he saw her.

  Recognition didn’t shine in her eyes until she finished drinking from the jar of blood. But then, she saw her son, and she ran to him, and they embraced. And tears ran down Odysseus’ face.

  “What evil is this that you are here, Mother?” Odysseus said.

  She pulled back from the hug, and then she slapped him. “You left your poor mother,” she said. “What kind of son are you? For years on end. I watched out for your wife and your son, but you stayed away so long.”

  “It’s taken us longer to return than I had hoped,” Odysseus said. “But we’re coming. I swear it.”

  “And what do you swear on? Your mother’s grave? Because that’s what you’ll find when you get back there.”

  “But why did you die? How did this horror come to be?”

  Well, it turned out that his mom died from being so sad because he’d been gone so long. And then she filled him in on everything that he’d been missing at home. And the more words she spoke, the angrier Odysseus grew.

  “Poseidon will pay for keeping me away for so long,” Odysseus said.

  “No,” I piped up before I thought better of it. “Don’t you get it? You need to make up with Poseidon. Not make him even angrier.”

  “The boy is right,” Odysseus’ mom said, thumping him on the side of the head. “Use that brain of yours. You’re not king for nothing.”

  She faded away. But my mind started churning. And my heart pounded in my chest.

  A couple other guys visited Odysseus after his mom. Agamemnon, who’d been the king who convinced Odysseus to fight in the war in the first place. Odysseus hadn’t known he was dead. Achilles, this awesome hero from the Trojan War who the guys talked about like he was some sort of god. I couldn’t focus on either of them. Now that Odysseus had seen his mom, my mind could only think of one thing.

  Because I had to know. One way or the other.

  I closed my eyes and prayed to see him if he was here. I prayed to Hermes because he kind of seemed like he was on my side. I prayed to Hades and Persephone since they ruled the Underworld. And then I just prayed. To any god who might listen and grant me this one small request.

  And then I prayed that he didn’t show up. That he really was still alive and my hope that I’d been holding onto for so long wasn’t in vain.

  But it wasn’t to be.

  From the darkness, a shadow appeared. Odysseus, as if he knew, took a step back. The shadow crept to the jar of blood and drank. And then his eyes found mine and recognition brightened his face.

  “Homer!” he called and held his arms open wide.

  My heart sank because seeing him here meant he really was dead. He wasn’t on a journey to come home to Mom and me. We’d never see him again, at least not outside of this place. And the sorrow of this thought threatened to overwhelm me. But the happiness on Dad’s face forced me to push past it. If this was the only chance I had to see Dad—to get the closure that I desperately needed—then I was not going to waste it.

  “Dad!” I said, and I ran toward him and let him engulf me in his arms, just like he’d done so many times when I was younger. He held me tight and stroked my hair, and I pressed my face against his chest and wished that I could stay here forever, with him.

  “Homer, look at you,” Dad said, stepping back enough that he could see me. “You’re so grown up. What happened?”

  “Puberty?” I said, trying to use humor to avoid the true crushing emotions that ran through me.

  “Has it been that long?” Dad asked.

  “Over two years,” I said. “I waited for you. I turned the hourglass just like you told me to. I went to town when the other soldiers came home. But you weren’t there. You never came back.”

  “And I’m so sorry,” Dad said. “I thought about you every day. Missed you so much. I used to tell stories about you. To the other soldiers. Did you know that?”

  I shook my he
ad, not trusting myself to speak.

  “I told them how brave you were. And how smart you were. And how I knew you were destined for great things.”

  I swallowed hard, not wanting to disappoint Dad by telling him how wrong he was.

  Dad laughed and ruffled my hair. “It does my heart good to see you so grown up.”

  “It does my heart good to see you,” I said and swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “How is your mother?” Dad asked. “Are you taking care of her, now that you’re head of the household?”

  I thought about how close I’d come to failing so many times already. And how if I failed, Mom would be lost. And how I had to tell her that Dad really was dead. That he wasn’t coming back. Every bit of determination inside me doubled. I had to get home. I could not fail Mom, and I could not let Dad down.

  “I’m taking really good care of her, Dad,” I said. “But she misses you. We both do.”

  He reached forward and grasped the hourglass hanging around my neck. “I’m always with you, Homer. Even when you think I’m not. I’m there, watching you. Just talk to me, if you need to. I’ll hear you, even if I can’t answer. I’ll be there beside you. Always.”

  I wrapped my hands around his, realizing how small my hands were in comparison to him. I still had a lot of growing to do before I became anywhere near the man that Dad was.

  “I love you, Dad,” I said.

  “I love you, Homer.” And with that, Dad drifted away.

  As if he knew exactly what I needed, Odysseus stepped forward and rested his hand on my shoulder.

  “He would be proud of you, Bard,” Odysseus said. “Your bravery. Your loyalty. Your determination. Just as I’m proud of you. The world needs people like you. People who make a difference.”

  I nodded slowly. I had to stay the path. Continue to make him proud. Make them both proud.

  Odysseus and I stayed there until the silhouette of Dad slipped back into shadow and vanished entirely. And then the rustling of the dead began again.

  One more person came toward us. He drank from the jar of blood, and recognition registered in his eyes.

  “Ajax,” Odysseus said, and he moved forward to greet the dead.

  But Ajax turned his back and refused to talk to Odysseus, no matter what Odysseus said.

  So finally, Odysseus gave up. It was one conversation that was not meant to be.

  We turned back to the water. The boat with Charon was just coming to shore. And there, right up front, was Dory.

  Dory got off the boat even as Odysseus stepped on.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I had to come,” Dory said, and then her eyes drifted past me to the figure who still stood on the beach with his back toward us.

  She walked forward, toward Ajax. I trailed after her because I didn’t like the idea of her going ahead alone. And when she got about five feet away from the dead Greek hero, he turned to face her.

  “You’re alive,” Ajax said when his eyes found her.

  Dory nodded slowly. “You called me here,” she said. “In my mind. I heard you. But do I know you?”

  “I thought you were dead,” Ajax said. “I thought they killed you. You were just a baby.”

  Wait. I had no clue what was going on here. Ajax knew who Dory was? But how was that even possible? Dory was from Ionia. A slave. Ajax had been in Troy, fighting in the war.

  “I remember … noise,” Dory said. “Fear.”

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” Ajax said. “You were supposed to be on a ship. I put you there myself. But then the ship … They said it was destroyed.”

  “I don’t know you,” Dory said, but she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

  “I know you,” Ajax said. “And I’m sorry I failed you.” Then a single tear rolled down his face before he turned away. And that’s when I noticed that the tattoo Dory had on the back of her neck that she always tried to keep hidden … Ajax had one just like it. And I knew I’d seen the tattooed symbol somewhere else—it was really familiar—but I couldn’t remember where.

  We waited until Ajax faded into the mist, then we turned and walked away, back to the boat where Odysseus and Charon waited. Odysseus didn’t ask Dory what Ajax had said, and she didn’t offer it up either. We drifted across the River Styx and through the crack in the world and back to where the guys waited.

  Odysseus didn’t talk about what had happened in the Underworld. But I wrote it all down because it was definitely a part of his story. The part with Dad wasn’t. I kept that to myself. I’d share it with Mom once I got home. Because I would get home.

  As for the conversation with Ajax, I wrote that down, too. And I drew the symbol. The tattoo. It might not fit in the same story as Odysseus, but it must have a story all of its own.

  SAME SONG, SECOND VERSE

  WE STOPPED BACK BY TO VISIT CIRCE. YOU’D THINK that after a year on her island, the guys would have been used to her by now, but they still crept around her like they were scared she’d turn them into farm animals again.

  She didn’t.

  We buried Elpenor. His body was right where he’d said it was. Once the guys found out he was dead, they all felt guilty, and so his eulogy went on for two days because they all wanted a chance to talk about what a great guy he was. Pretty sure he would have chuckled at that since they hadn’t noticed he was gone, but it made for a nice funeral. Of course, then they all celebrated some more and drank a bunch of mead, which took another week.

  Circe spent more time with Odysseus, giving him a bunch of advice that I hoped would keep us from getting killed. We couldn’t stand to lose anyone else. And then finally we left the island.

  “Prettiest witch I’ve ever seen,” Odysseus said, straightening his fresh yellow tunic.

  I didn’t think his wife, Penelope, would be too happy about that comment.

  The final sands in the tiny hourglass fell through to the bottom, and I flipped it. My third rotation. But I wasn’t worried. I still had plenty of time.

  “Have you thought any more about it?” I asked Dory as the guys rowed the ship away from Circe’s island.

  “About what Ajax said?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Some,” she said. “But I still don’t remember much.”

  I’d thought a lot about Dad. And sure, I wished he weren’t dead, that he were back at home waiting for me, but at least I knew now.

  “He had the same tattoo as you,” I said.

  Immediately her hand went to the back of her neck. “You’ve seen it?”

  “Of course, I’ve seen it,” I said. “We’ve been around each other twenty-four/seven for the last two years.”

  “You weren’t supposed to see it,” she said.

  “Why? What is it?”

  Dory shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve always had it. Always kept it hidden. I guess I’ve just always has this feeling like I’m supposed to keep it secret.”

  “But why does Ajax have it, too?”

  “No clue,” Dory said. “Just promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “I can keep your secrets.”

  “What secrets?” Eurylochus said, sneaking into the galley like the rat that he was.

  “No secrets,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

  Eurylochus strolled forward and got right in Dory’s face. “Cook, I know you’re keeping secrets. And I’ll find out what they are. And if for some reason I find out that you’re responsible for our not reaching Ithaca, I’ll have you thrown overboard.”

  I shoved my way in between them. “Dory isn’t responsible for us not reaching Ithaca,” I said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Eurylochus narrowed his eyes. “Just know that I’m watching you always. One slip, and you’re shark fodder.”

  He shoved me backward and left the room.

  “That guy’s like a wet sock,” Dory said, trying to diffuse the tension in the air.

  “Or an
itchy sweater,” I added. “There’s nothing worse than an itchy sweater.”

  “Except a wet sock.”

  “What’d you do to make him so mad?” I asked. My heart pounded. There was no possible way he knew Dory was a girl.

  Dory shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t like the soup?”

  Maybe. Or maybe there was something else. All I knew was that Dory had to be extra careful.

  ONCE WE’D SAILED FOR A FEW DAYS, ODYSSEUS came into the galley.

  “Cook, do we have any beeswax?” he said.

  “Possibly,” Dory said, standing protectively in front of the supply cabinets. She hated how just since he was king, he thought he should get whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

  “I’ll be needing it,” he said.

  “Why?” Dory asked.

  “Why do you always question me?” Odysseus said. “I’m the king.”

  “Not my king,” Dory said, and I kind of cringed at her words. She’d gotten a bit more outspoken since our visit to the Underworld.

  “Just give me the beeswax, Cook,” Odysseus said.

  “Fine,” she said, handing it over. “But bring me back what you don’t use.”

  I followed Odysseus up to the deck to see what crazy scheme he had going on this time. In addition to the jar full of wax, a bunch of rope lay coiled on the deck.

  “You want us to do what?” Eurylochus said.

  “I want you to tie me to the mast,” Odysseus said. “And then I want you all to stuff wax in your ears.”

  “And why is that, great king?” Eurylochus said. He never gave up on pushing Odysseus’ buttons.

  “Because I want to save your lives,” Odysseus said.

  The guys laughed.

  “Save our lives from what?” a guy we called Skinner said. He wore a tunic made of eel skins, hence the nickname.

  “Killer mermaids,” Odysseus said, which was completely the wrong thing to say. Killer mermaids. I could almost imagine mermaids with long fangs jumping at the guys and sucking the blood from their bodies.

  “Mermaids are no match for us,” Eurylochus said, and a bunch of the guys cheered and held up their swords, like they were ready to fight anything put in front of them.

  “These are not just mermaids,” Polites said, leaning forward. “I’ve heard stories of these creatures that haunt the sea.”