by Mary Gray
Teo guides me by the arm and leads me across the upstairs hallway that’s open to the bottom floor. I can see seven couples eating and chatting, and Teo has me stop where part of the staircase curves out into a semi-circular balcony over the living room, like we’re on a stage.
“Everyone,” Teo says, lifting his arm up, his baritone voice carrying easily over the music, “I would like you all to meet our last friend. The crowning jewel of Elysian Fields.” He pauses briefly, nudges me ahead, and cries, “I give you, Persephone!”
Persephone?
My blood runs cold. I know that tale; I read about it last week. Persephone is paired with Hades, the god of the underworld. The god who abducts and imprisons her by force.
I thought he liked my name. I always liked it—my mom chose it specifically for me. After breaking down in a snowstorm in Wyoming while seven months pregnant with me, a lady took her in and fed her. For an entire week. In Cheyenne. It means something.
But Teo’s hand holds mine still, like he’s displaying a mannequin. I’d like to protest, but he squeezes my hand with reassurance and I know to follow his lead.
His hold on me is tight and I haven’t forgotten that Teo has saved me. Saved us. He has provided us with asylum from the monsters outside, carefully built this world and invited me into it. So, really, what I should be feeling is gracious to him. Teo is honoring me. Here I stand above these other couples, supposedly as their crowning jewel. Their Persephone. While the implication is a bit ostentatious for my taste, Teo deserves my thanks. I should give it.
I turn to him then, allow him to lift my hand, and I graze my trembling fingers along his strong lips. And he holds them there like that, moving my fingers down his stubbled jaw. The strong lines and dark skin of his face make it hard to breathe; I wish I could pull him close for a kiss.
Teo’s gaze warms me, making me feel like jellyfish and coals. “These are your friends,” he says, breathing into my ear. He points down the stairs. “Do you see the blonds? They are quite amusing, don’t you think?”
I see who he means; there are four people with long blond hair, two girls and two boys, by a counter jam-packed with food. But the girls wear elaborate medieval dresses, and the boys wear skater clothes—one with a pink and green streak of color in his hair. They seem to be playing a quiet, subdued game of charades.
“You’ve met Marc and Cleo.” Teo gestures to where they sit on a tasseled couch against the wall. “They make a stunning pair, don’t you think?” And it’s true, though everything about Cleo tends to burrow beneath my skin. Her arms wrap possessively around Marcus’s neck and she whispers something into his ear. Whatever. Maybe he has a thing for streetwalkers over heatstroke victims who come across his front porch.
A few other people cluster around a dining room table to the side, but Teo leads me away from the top before I can take a closer look. We travel down the curved staircase as everyone in the room stiffens. A plump girl wearing an orange sari and scarf on her head balances a plate of veggies on her lap where she sits on the other couch. She gropes for her partner’s hand, but he jerks his hand back. What a douche.
At the foot of the stairs, Teo clutches my waist the way I have always dreamed he would. It’s tight, possessive, and I am only too happy to be wanted by someone else. It reminds me of the two seahorses I saw at Sea World when I was little. My mom explained how their tails curl together when they’ve found their true love. It’s nice to feel connected to someone. Plus, Teo’s never held me like this before; our moments have been like captured fireflies—cherished, and much too soon released.
Someone mumbles from the kitchen table, an elaborate hunk of wood with hieroglyphics and large, clawed lions’ feet. Two of the boys—one in overalls, the other in a plaid shirt—make me realize the women are the only ones wearing costumes. But the costumes are so random, so eclectic; it almost makes me wonder if Teo raided a high school theater’s closet and said, “Here you go.”
Teo grips my waist hard, which reminds me of how he hates mumbling in class. It is time for you to learn eloquence, he said as he had us listen to Gregorian chants. “Someone has a comment,” Teo says. “I’d like to hear it. Perhaps you would like to comment on Persephone’s name?”
I let my gaze shift over to the two blond couples again—they’ve discontinued their low-profile game of charades. They all look so shiny and alike. I think of one of those outdated Doublemint Gum commercials my mother laughed at when I was small, with sets of twins smiling in every scene. Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun. Only the two couples are missing their smiles. Teo has that effect on people—he makes them smile less and think more.
None of the couples around the table are talking, and Teo’s fingers dig into my waist. The three couples at the table duck their heads, seeming to want to hide from Teo’s question altogether. Some of my classmates used to do that, until they learned that Teo is much happier when you offer what you have learned, prove you’ve taken the time to study the material for class.
So I answer for them, knowing that sharing my knowledge of Persephone will ease Teo’s mind. “Persephone was queen of the underworld.” Married to Hades, I think inside, but I don’t say it out loud.
Teo drops his head sideways, revealing the slight black stubble on his shaved head. He swivels his head back and forth, up and down, a stretch I’ve seen maybe a thousand times. “Is that all, Persephone?” he asks me like he’s my best friend, or maybe the friendly checker at the 7-Eleven before I slap the counter with another pack of gum.
“Yes,” I say, my throat constricting as it hits me that there will never again be visits to 7-Eleven. Barely five minutes have gone past and I have already forgotten this new fact. I open my mouth to say something about the Living Rot when Teo says, “It is time to dance.”
Immediately, everyone finds their feet. Everyone, that is, except for Cleo and Marcus. She’s tugging his hands, trying to pull him from the couch. He’d better get a move on if he—oh, there he goes, trudging across the hardwood floor to dance with Cleo, who wraps her paws around his shoulders. I breathe a sigh of relief. No one speaks a word as the boys in regular clothes hold the waists of girls in fancy dresses.
With one hand squeezing my waist, Teo squints down at me as we waltz away from the stairs. “That went well.”
I’m not entirely sure how he thought it would go—or how well differs from poorly—but I smile anyway and say, “Yes, it did.”
The seven other couples mimic Teo’s dance with blank faces and shoulders tight. How many of them are thinking about the monsters? How many are troubled by the fact that the Living Rot could—has—happened again?
Teo’s masterful lead helps sweep me away from the horrors on the outside—he has given us our own protected world. It makes me wonder if there’s some sort of barrier through the trees. The neighborhood seems isolated. I would guess no one knows we’re here.
The couples stumble about with little grace, a few sneaking looks at Teo and me. The girl wearing the sari and her scowling, pencil-thin date are the clumsiest, both watching their feet before crashing straight into Cleo and Marc. There’s a domino effect when Marc trips over a tassel-infested ottoman and falls awkwardly to his knees.
My heart leaps. I must be wincing, because Teo turns around to see the cause. He takes in the sight of his brother bent across the ottoman, and puts together the fact that someone in orange can’t seem to find her balance in the room. This poor girl in the orange needs a rest, to put up her feet.
“You,” Teo points to the sari-wearing girl, “and you,” he points to her date, “tell Persephone your names.”
“Ana,” the girl squeaks, steadying herself on the couch. “And this is Sal.” Her date bobs his head in agreement, wiping his hands on his jeans.
Teo narrows his eyes. “Tell me, Ana, do you enjoy looking like a hippo mashing feet with a giraffe?”
Everyone freezes. He did not say that. Whatever happened to my Teo, who’s gifted with beautiful words?
He must be tired, frustrated by our failure to contribute to his conversation before. Humiliation trickles into dear Ana’s eyes. “You’re right,” she says, and I want to pull her aside and give her a hug, because we all make mistakes.
Her partner, Sal, though, is rather giraffe-like and does have an unusually long neck. He stares ahead, his miniature rectangular glasses perched neatly on the bridge of his nose. But his gaze isn’t looking at anyone. He merely toys with a block of wood in his hands.
Teo sighs, glaring at Ana in her orange sari and slipping headscarf. “Let us see those mashed-potato arms in some type of position—”
My jaw falls open. “Teo!”
I’ve only spoken his name, but it’s as if I’ve stolen a megaphone and wailed Silence! Seven couples hold their collective breaths. Even the air conditioning seems to pause out of shock and apprehension, and the musician in Cleo’s music knows to soften her voice, her once-articulate stanzas becoming slurred.
I watch as Teo’s shoulders rise and fall and hate that this party isn’t going well. That’s how class was sometimes with Teo. On the bad days, no one would speak a word, so fearful that he would snap. On the good days, though, no one could stop talking about his high spirits and how nothing was better than learning with him. And that’s what I want right now. Those good days when everyone sees that what Teo does is for a purpose, and he’s always thinking ahead so we can learn as much as possible. He is, after all, the reason we had the highest math scores in the state.
This is not one of those good days, not at all. Plus, I’ve broken Teo’s cardinal rule: never interfere with what he says. I’m mostly mortified I somehow forget about that unspoken rule, but I can’t help wondering why he thinks calling people names is okay. But that’s Teo. His mind is so far ahead of everyone else’s that he has a hard time being patient sometimes. My rebuke must have been embarrassing for him. For that, I can’t help feeling a little dismayed at myself.
Teo rounds on me and sneers; rightly so, but it still hurts. “The others in this room have learned never to interrupt their Director.” He grabs me by the arm and drags me past the massive Egyptian statues by the door. “Never interrupt me, Persephone. Never question what I have to say.”
My face twitches again, and it takes all I have not to hang my head and weep. Teo expects a reply, but the singer in Cleo’s music steals my focus. I can just now decipher what she’s trying to say: Little monkey, be my friend, be my friend, be my friend. Pushing the sound away, I look Teo directly in the eyes and say, “I understand.” My face doesn’t twitch or anything.
Teo sucks in his lips, then swivels his head again. “Can’t you see what I have here, Persephone? I’ve built our perfect world.”
I shake my head; it’s impossible to be perfect. Of course, Teo knows that, but who am I to challenge his authority? He’s the reason why we’re alive. He’s the person who had the foresight to build this place. If he hurts people’s feelings, maybe I can make it my own personal goal to swoop in and patch things up along the way—only after he leaves the room.
Before I can say that I see what he’s trying to do, he grips me by the wrist, opens Cleo’s front door, and pushes me out. I stagger; never has he shoved me like this. My fingers begin to twitch like I’ll defend myself, but I force them to remain still. He pushed me because I didn’t appreciate his work. I can’t question him in front of everyone. I can’t.
Teo follows me, slamming the door behind him, making me jump, but I force myself to remain calm and to still my twitching face.
Electricity simmers in Teo’s gaze. I feel like he’s stockpiled the entire world’s energy and infused his gaze with it. I can almost hear the sizzle from all that power directed at me.
“Go inside, Persephone,” he spits, making me flinch. “Learn the names of your neighbors. All of them. Then return to me tonight and show me you can pass this second task.”
Second task? My heart slams inside my chest—Teo yelled at me. But I should have known to hold my tongue. While Teo was rude, I need to remember some things are better left explained away after he leaves. He doesn’t think before he speaks, I could explain to poor Ana. See, I’m twitching myself.
Yet, Teo has provided safety from the monsters outside. We are protected against the Living Rot, and he has a vaccine.
“Wait,” I call to Teo as he moves away from me to the street, his coattails billowing behind him, “what about the vaccine?”
Teo turns a cold look on me. “You have not earned it yet. Everyone must prove themselves first.”
Prove ourselves—by learning everyone’s names. At least, I hope that’s what he means. But how can he hold onto the vaccine like a collateral while the sickness is mere miles away?
This echoes his reward systems in the past. He would say before the math meets: Perform well and you can ride with me. Complete the extra credit and we can move on to higher things. Like listen to him play the violin or meditate with Gregorian chants—activities like these were rewards for accomplishing the simpler tasks. That’s when we may enjoy a higher purpose, he would say, and suddenly everything makes sense.
I learn the names, I receive the vaccine, and we can move on to him explaining his vision for Elysian Fields, his dream. Why am I always so obstinate? So unwilling to accept his direction? He did refer to himself as our Director, after all.
I watch Teo stride away from me, his powerful legs moving down the street. He even moves like he’s in control. I need to show him I’m willing to learn his ways.
As his black suit coat disappears inside the house at the very center, the one where I woke up, I can’t help wondering if it hurt him to be angry, if he realizes how much he hurt me. But it doesn’t matter; I’ll do anything to prove myself to him. Because I can show him I’m worthy of his love, his dreams, this place. He might have unrealistic expectations, but I can do better. He will see.
4
With the pointy-eared Egyptian statues flanking every nook and cranny of Cleo’s too-warm house, I feel like I’m being watched. Like Teo’s given the statues orders to report back to him. Part of me wonders what it would be like to see them move—to see their powerful bronze bodies marching about the room. Their footsteps would echo the drumbeats inside my chest, the never-ending pounding.
If I’m to learn the names of the couples, I must forget the oversized statues, digest everyone’s faces as well as their names. It can’t be that hard to learn fourteen names.
Leaning against the wooden door behind me, I watch the one person I know best—Marcus, with that black, floppy hair. He needs a haircut, because he keeps shaking his bangs out of his eyes. He’s talking to Cleo, heads close together on the couch. But with Teo out of the room, I take the time to really study Marcus. The way his gray knit shirt actually has to stretch over his shoulders and chest, and how a shade of dusty plum enshrouds one eye. He must have been in a fight, though I can’t imagine with whom. With those ripped arms, though, it’s not hard to imagine him tearing someone apart.
Cleo’s beads slap into his cheek, and he laughs like beads have never been more amusing in his life. I don’t know—I guess I feel betrayed. I figured he would be an ally, but he wouldn’t let me inside his house. And he’s chitchatting with Cleo? I think I sort of hate her, the way her boobs are spilling out of her dress.
Marc’s eyes dart to me and flicker before he looks away. His eyes always lit up when he saw me before, but today it’s like he purposely pushes the light out. I’m suddenly finding it hard to stand.
It has happened before, when I ran into him at the grocery store. He was buying ingredients for lunch. I remember him balancing rice, asparagus, and cooking wine without a shopping cart. I asked him what he was making and he seemed to grit his teeth and wouldn’t meet my gaze, which was really strange, coming from him. He didn’t joke with me, didn’t look at me the way he usually did. I left feeling disheartened, wondering what had happened to the friend who always tried to grab my ponytail at the math meets. The one who s
ang my name. Instead, he stalked off to meet Teo at the front of the store. I wanted to follow, but I didn’t want to go where I wasn’t welcome. And I didn’t understand why he had left me like he was hurt.
And now all I can wonder is why he didn’t tell me about the snake, why he wouldn’t get me some water. He must have seen my sunburned arms, my lips cracked from the sun. I don’t understand why he’s grown so cold.
Marcus strides across the room with nothing like the prowl of his brother’s. His is more automatic—nothing fluid, just a walk. When he reaches me, my knees stupidly buckle enough to make me lose my balance. He grips my arms and steadies me against the wrought-iron rails of the stairs at my back. My heart thump-thumps and I have to take an extra step.
“Careful there, Cheyenne.”
I stiffen in his grip. Now he’s my friend? He’s so hot and cold—like when he was always playing around at the math meets. I don’t know what he wants. I never know.
Cleo follows Marc’s path, her beads swaying as she walks, a smirk playing on her full and pouty lips. “Well, hello there, Number Eight.” She juts her bottom lip outward, as if in sympathy. “Did Teo-bear leave you behind?”
I scoff. I’m about to say something about her behind when Marcus cuts me off. “What did Teo say?”
I glance at Cleo, her mock sympathy shifting to disgust as she sees Marcus’s interest. Her eyes narrow and she flips her beads as she huffs away, which almost makes me wish I had my own beads to swing for joy.
Marc wants to know what Teo said. But I’m not so sure Teo would like me confiding in his little brother just now. Besides, Marcus doesn’t deserve to know after his little stunt with the snake. “Why didn’t you help me before?” I ask, folding my arms.
He mimics my stance, folding his arms, too. “Look, Cheyenne, I couldn’t tell you about the snake, but I was trying to help you out.”
“By chasing me away?” What kind of an idiot thought yelling at someone was the same thing as, Hey, you might want to come inside to get away from the anacondas hanging around my house?