A Broken Fate

by Cat Mann

  ****

  On the second evening of our trip, Ari and I decided to take a walk through an old, hilly neighborhood just off the beaten path. Beautiful flowers draped from stone pots and window boxes. Women hollered across balconies to one another as they put laundry out on lines to dry. Stray cats stretched and meandered about the white-washed lane, men sat together at chessboards and smoked cigars while small children kicked a ball back and forth along the narrow pathway. The experience was like walking back in time. I felt at home in the community. I could tell Ari felt that way, too. We belonged in Greece. It was in our blood.

  We came upon an old woman outside sweeping the steps to her home. She turned to greet us and as soon as I saw her face, I knew that I had met her before but couldn’t quite place the memory, as if our meeting had been in a dream. I gave her a smile as we passed and her face went slack. She dropped her broom and pointed at me in awe.

  “Ava?”

  Ari’s jaw dropped and he looked from me to her. “Do you know this woman?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Yes,” I smiled, “I think I do.”

  A dream I had so very long ago that it felt like a different lifetime flitted into my memory. This woman had spoken to me in my hospital dream and had taught me how to reel the thread in to make time back up; she had pleaded for more time and I gladly gave it to her. The lesson that she bestowed upon me was ultimately what had saved Aggie; Ari and I both owed her so much.

  We hugged one another and fat tears fell from her eyes. I wiped them away and turned to introduce her to Ari. She got one look at Ari, blushed, threw her arms around him, and kissed both of his cheeks. She invited us in and I took Ari’s hand and told him that I would explain it all later.

  I remembered that her name was Maya. She welcomed us into her home and introduced us to her little grandson, Max, sitting near the garden door and rolling a ball back and forth. Maya’s hair was salt and pepper colored, long, and smooth. Her eyes were light brown and sparkled brightly. She smiled at us almost adoringly.

  Max was a beautiful child, with rosy, chubby cheeks and stubby little-boy fingers. His brown hair stood up all over in disarray, just like Ari’s. He had a cute, baby tooth smile and the same light brown eyes as his grandmother. He took to Ari instantly. Max spoke only a tiny amount of English and Ari kept looking at me for guidance, but the little boy’s speech was mostly that of a two-year-old – nonsensical sounds along with some words for various toys and games.

  Maya’s home was lovely. It possessed a worldly charm with stone walls and exposed, natural-wood beams, windowsills and doors. She had a large farm kitchen sink and freshly cut flowers displayed in antique vases. The space was really quite magical. Maya insisted that Ari and I stay for dinner and she served moussaka with a plate of olives and wonderful loaf of bread. For dessert, she gave us Greek yogurt with honey and almonds. Max sat on Ari’s lap the entire time and babbled to him about playing ball on the pathway. When the meal was done, Max dragged Ari by the hand out to the courtyard near the garden.

  I helped Maya clear the plates and walked with her to the sink in her little kitchen. I set the plates down and Maya took both of my hands in hers and looked me in the eyes before pulling me in for another hug. She released me then placed her hand on my cheek.

  “I have waited a long time to meet you, Ava.”

  I looked at her quizzically.

  “Why me?” I could tell Maya was a descendant of a deity but I was not sure of whom. “Who are you?”

  She walked down the hall and pulled out a large book from a closet and then took my hand and sat back down at the table. She pulled a picture out of the book and showed it to me.

  I cocked my head to the side and took in every detail. The picture was of Maya, taken probably forty years earlier. She was wearing a dress that went past her knees and was standing next to another young woman of approximately the same age. I pointed to the one that was clearly Maya.

  “You?” I asked.

  “Umm hmm,” she responded. She pointed to the other woman, looked at me, and said “Margaux.”

  My eyes turned the size of half dollars and my heart began to pound of out my chest.

  “My Margaux?”

  “Umm hmm.”

  She took out another picture, the photo was of Maya and Margaux again, only this time, Maya’s belly was swollen and round. She pointed to her belly and smiled at me until I understood.

  “Lucy. My mom.”

  “Yes.”

  “You are my Grandmother?”

  “Yes, Ava, I am.”

  I felt as though the wind had been knocked from my lungs. My jaw slacked at this revelation and my heart pounded against my chest. Maya was my mom’s birth mother. My grandmother.

  “I am of the goddess of Demeter, Ava. My husband, your grandfather Christos, was the last known descendant of Clotho, the spinner of the thread.”

  I had learned the year before, on my trip to London, that my mother was the descendant of Clotho. I had to beat the information out of Margaux but in the end, she confirmed that my suspicion was right. I kept this information to myself. I had not even told Ari of my discovery.

  Since my grandfather was descended from Clotho, Maya had known, in my dream so long ago, that I could pull her thread and delay her death. I possess all three capabilities – I can spin life, measure life and end it. I looked out the garden door at Max who was laughing loudly at Ari who was trying with much difficulty to bounce the ball on his head several times in a row.

  Maya nodded at me with a smile and stated that Max was my cousin. She had another daughter, Lacy, ten years after my mother was born. When Lacy died, Maya, not willing to lose another child, kept Max to raise him. She said both of her daughters had possessed the power to spin life and that the Kakos had sought them both out. Max’s mom, Lacy, and his dad, Egan, were murdered right after Max’s birth when they refused to spare the Kakos’ lives any longer. Margaux had taken my mother, ten years prior to Lacy’s birth, vowing to keep her safe and away from her destiny as a Fate.

  My mother was never told about her past or where she came from; she had no idea who she was until she met my father. Maya added, with a bit of bitterness, that if it hadn’t been for Margaux allowing my mom to be with my dad, my mom would still be alive today. The Kakos, she said, found out about my mother in the course of their hunting down my father.

  Maya, angry with Margaux, stopped speaking to her friend when I was born. She had herself spent considerable energy and ingenuity keeping Max a secret. The little boy was born. I was the first person to know of his abilities as a Fate. She said that she had been following my progress with the Kakos. And she wished me good luck.

  “What do you mean…good luck? There’s more, another Kakos isn’t there?”

  I took a deep breath as I asked my question. I wanted to know what Maya had meant by wishing me luck. Her face turned serious and she nodded yes, slowly.

  “Is he safe -- Max?”

  She frowned. “It is you he wants, not a little boy. He will find you, Ava.”

  I asked who he was and where I could find him. She told me there are some things not to be spoken of and that the person I wanted to know about was one of those things. I begged for more information and she simply said that No. 7 rarely shows his own face and had not been seen for eighteen years. When No. 7 does come forth, she added, he takes the form of someone else and thus is not recognizable. He has the power to possess someone else’s soul and body. A very cold chill ran through my veins at this news. I pressed Maya again for more information but she was not forthcoming. She turned to look behind herself often, as if someone might be listening in on our conversation.

  It began to get dark; Maya’s home filled up with shadows, and a cool evening breeze came in through an open window. Ari carried Max, who was rubbing his eyes sleepily, back to the table. I stood up to leave; worried that Ari and I would not be able to find our way back in the dark. Maya gave us great big hugs. Max threw his
chubby little two-year-old arms around Ari and cried for him to stay. I choked back tears, afraid of what would happen with Max the next time I saw our grandmother in the hospital dream.

  Maya stopped us right before we walked out the door and told me to wait one more minute. She hurried down the hall and started rummaging through a closet and came back with a long rectangular box. She handed the box to me and I looked at her curiously. She motioned for me to open it. I slid the top of the old, dusty wooden box off and found a very ancient pair of sharp scissors tucked away inside. The very same pair I hold each night in my dreams.

  Shock and wonder consumed me as I sucked in a breath. Maya smiled and told me the scissors had belonged to Atropos. She took my face in her hands and her eyes looked straight into mine as she said, slowly and deliberately, “Use them when the time comes; you have to use them.”

  I tried to ask what she meant but, looking out into the darkening sky, she ushered us from her home and bolted the door behind us.

  I linked my arm through Ari’s and we walked back to The Loft. I told him that the scissors had belonged to Atropos, and that they are the very ones I use each night when I roam the hospital halls in my dream. Then I told him about the dream I had a year ago, when Maya taught me to pull the thread, and I told him how my experience with her had given me the tools I needed to save Aggie.

  “Ari, I haven’t told you this yet, but I have found out that my mother was descended from Clotho.”

  He came to a stop on the path and turned to gape at me.

  “When did you learn this, Ava?” Ari seemed more than shocked at my revelation.

  “On my way to London, last winter. Margaux explained a little bit of my background to me. I had to force the information out of her and I couldn’t tell if she was being truthful or not until tonight.”

  “Why do you keep things from me? You knew this whole time… Christ, Ava!” Ari’s jaw was tight and he sounded irritated.

  “I’m sorry, Ari. I have a hard time talking about some parts of my life.”

  “I’m your husband. We should tell each other everything. I know I tell you everything.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded my head, filled with remorse, yet I still didn’t say anything about No. 7. I wasn’t ready for him to know that my fight with the Kakos was not yet over.