Muse Unexpected (5 page)

If anyone were to ask Sophie what happened during the twenty-four hours after she arrived home from school, she would have said it was a painful blur.

She’d arrived home from school two hours late and was greeted by her mother rushing to meet her, grabbing her into a hug.

“Mom?” she said, choking on a strand of her mother’s hair. “Mom, you’re squeezing the breath out of me.” She struggled to loosen her mother’s grip, but was unsuccessful.

“Sorry, honey. I…” Callie paused, her face darkening. “Why didn’t you tell me you were staying late at school? You had me worried sick, thinking something had happened. You can be so selfish. Damn, Sophie.”

“Whatever, Mom. Once again you didn’t look at the schedule on the fridge. Today is my afternoon to help out at the school newspaper. You know that.” Sophie shouted back, hurtling her book bag down and splitting open the zipper. Her books fell out into a heap on the floor. Using it as an excuse to turn her eyes away, she bent down and gathered her books and the broken book bag into her arms. She was sick of her mother’s mood swings and right now she couldn’t stand the sight of her.

Only have to last a few more years and I’m free
.
College will take me away from this crazy woman.

When she looked up, her mother had raised her hands to touch her own flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Callie reached for Sophie’s arm, but she pulled away. “I forgot all about it. It’s been one of those days.”

She forced a small, pressed-lipped smile. “Whatever, Mom, I’ve got some homework.” Turning her back, Sophie made her way upstairs, careful not to make any sound. She knew her mother would be listening and she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how angry she was. She had lied about having homework, but she knew it was the quickest way to get away from the big serving of crazy her mother was doling out in abundance.
Here’s to hoping her level of freakiness isn’t hereditary. Freak. Freak. Freak.

Opening up her calculus book, in case her mother burst into her room to go for Round Two, Sophie lay back against the neatly arranged stuffed animals on her bed, sending some of them toppling over the edge.

She reached over and switched on the radio, snuggling deeper into the mound of soft plush toys and listened to the first strains of Vivaldi’s
Winter
concerto. A wave of weariness hit her and what seemed like a moment of closing her eyes ended up being a long and welcome nap. The memory of the argument she’d had with her mother was replaced with a world of nothingness.

Several hours later, she opened her eyes and glanced at her alarm clock. It was nine p.m.

“Shoot.” Her mind raced as she tried to remember her father’s schedule. He should have arrived home around seven-thirty and she wondered why her mother hadn't woken her up.

She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it back; securing it with a band she had around her wrist. She didn’t bother to look at her reflection in the mirror and unlocked her door, opening it a crack. There were several voices downstairs, talking in hushed tones, and this puzzled her because she knew her mother never invited guests on the same night her father returned from a long overseas trip. The old wooden floors underneath the shag carpeting creaked and in response to the sound the voices downstairs stopped mid-conversation.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she paused and glanced into the living room, surprised to see several of the neighbors sitting there, talking with each other in hushed tones. The gold faux-brushed velvet, made during the ice age, furniture set didn’t have a single unoccupied spot.

This is so not okay
.
No one goes into the living room, unless it was a special occasion like Christmas or Easter, or maybe a dinner party.

She nervously smiled at the group, wondering whether her mother would make her vacuum and rake the shag carpeting. She entered the kitchen and walked into an even larger group of people. Seated at the table was her mother, who had a bottle of whiskey and a glass next to her. Next to her mother was an ashtray with one of her father’s cigars in it. It was lit, filling the room with its scent.

She stared at her mother and panicked because her gorgeous, always put-together mother looked twice her age, with streaked make-up, messy hair and bloodshot eyes. She knew something was wrong.

“Mom?” Her voice squeaked. The sound didn’t catch the attention of anyone in the kitchen. She licked her lips and cleared her throat.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

Callie stood up with a slight teeter and walked towards her. When she reached Sophie, she hugged her then pulled away to look Sophie in the eyes.

“Sweetheart,” Callie said.

She caught the eye of her mother’s good friend and their long-time neighbor, Stephanie, trying to get some sort of answer from her, and when she saw tears beginning to swell in her eyes she turned back to her mother.

“Callie,” Stephanie interrupted, with a choking sound, “wait.”

Standing up, Stephanie took her husband Gil’s hand and they exited the kitchen, followed by the rest, leaving her alone with her mother.

“Okay, this isn’t funny. What’s wrong with you?” Sophie demanded.

“Honey, I need you to be strong. There was an accident and Daddy,” Callie began to cry. “He died.”

She couldn’t remember what else her mother said because her legs lost all of their strength and she started to fall. She sensed her mother’s arms wrapping around, stopping her from falling to the ground. .

At first, Sophie wished whoever was screaming would stop, but then she realized she was the one who was screaming—so out of control she could feel the strain in her throat, in-between sobs for breath. She tried to wrestle herself away from her mother, pushing her fists against her, but her mother held her tightly, saying what she assumed were Greek words of comfort.

Her screams had died away to silent crying and her mother kissed her on the forehead several times, continuing to hold her.

“Can you stand?” Callie said. “Because my legs are about to give way and the
very
last thing I want to do is sit on this filthy floor.”

Sophie couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Mom. When has this floor ever been filthy?” She stood on her own feet and grabbed her mom’s hands, showing her she was okay.

Sophie managed a weak smile. “You look like crap, Mom.”

Her mother rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, which made it look worse.

“Well, you’ll have to excuse me for my appearance. I wasn’t expecting guests.”

Sophie sat down at the table.

“What happened?” she asked.

“There isn’t much use going into the details. We can…”

Sophie nodded her head in agreement, but then changed her mind. “No. No, get it over with so I can deal with it all at once.”

“Sophie, I don’t think—”

“Damn it, Mom,” she shouted hoarsely.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. The police don’t know what happened and I sure as hell don’t know. He’s gone. Do you understand? He’s gone and I don’t know what to do. What to say. So shut the hell up!” Her mother’s hand flew to her mouth and she began to cry. “I’m sorry, Sophie. Oh, God. I am so sorry. Forgive me.”

She burst into tears and threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Oh Mom…”

With a flash of light and crack of electricity, Georgia appeared outside of the small Cape Cod in Columbus, Ohio. She noted that her luck continued to hold up, as she glanced around and saw the street was empty. Knowing how and when to Shimmer unnoticed was a true talent and one she had mastered. She stood for a second, catching her breath. It had been a long time since she travelled so far. Shimmering from one room to another was one thing, but Shimmering thousands of miles was enough to make her feel like she was about to vomit. She almost did, but refused to allow herself to show any kind of weakness. When her head stopped spinning, she straightened and checked herself to make sure she was presentable. Her long, honey-colored, streaked-with-white hair was pulled into a modern French twist. She doubted herself a little, wondering if her outfit was overkill and would send the wrong message, but she pushed the concern out of her mind. She wore a sleek, tailored couture black suit, with a matching black trench coat, black gloves and a pair of black designer pumps accented with shiny, red-lacquered soles. Several strands of pearls, of varying sizes and lengths, rested against her skin inside her opened white shirt. Her gold brooch with the large red stone was fastened to her lapel.

She knew she didn’t look like the stereotypical grandmother.

I refuse to show up wearing a granny dress, shawl and sneakers.
My daughter, the rebellious one, wouldn’t be fooled by such an outfit and if I’m going to win Callista and Sophia over, I need to be savvy and being savvy requires my incredible good luck and my exquisite sense of style and good taste.

She opened the small gate and shook her head in disappointment at its peeling paint.

“I’m used to walking into a room and commanding attention without much effort and there was no reason why now should be any different.” She tightened the belt of her trench coat to emphasize her point. However, the closer she got to the door, the more her nerve began to slip away again.

But it’s always good to have a contingency plan
.

She reached into the front pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a small vial. Taking care, she uncorked it and smeared some of the blue liquid onto her gloved right hand. She reminded herself she now had only a minute to touch Callie.

If she won’t return to Greece willingly, a veil of obedience potion should remove any willful notions Callista may have
. She raised her other hand to knock and the door swung open.

She forced herself not to sneer at her daughter’s meager environment.
It was unacceptable. It was pathetic. Here’s to hoping the time in this hovel will be short lived.

“Callista?” she called, her heavy Greek accent hanging off of each syllable she spoke.

Callie’s mouth flew open. “Oh, shit,” Callie said. “Georgia?”

“Language, Callista. Georgia? Have I reached such a lowly place in your heart? Am I
now
to be referred to as Georgia and not Mother?” Stepping forward, Georgia embraced her daughter and kissed her on the cheek, making sure her right hand touched the back of Callie’s head. She felt the shudder run through her daughter’s body as the spell took hold and she stepped back.

Georgia
stared at her daughter, waiting to see who would be the first to blink. Callie sighed and stepped aside to allow her to walk into the house.

I should have used the veil potion on her ages ago
.
Think of all the time I’ve wasted.

Her thoughts of triumph were short-lived as she saw the group of people standing behind her daughter. She glared at them, leaving little to the imagination as to what they should do.

“Well,” she said, watching the group depart, “that is much, much, much better. Callista, you know people will sit around like spectators at the crucifixion, licking the tears and drinking in the sorrow of others like a fine wine. It’s so distasteful.”

“Georgia…” Callie said, in a low tone, almost a growl. “Now is not the time for you to throw your ego around. Please, be quiet. Sophie is in the next room and has just found out about Angelo.”

Georgia
removed her coat and laid it on the nearest chair.

“We’ve all made mistakes and I have been gracious enough to see beyond your shortcomings and forgive you. I am here to help you through your time of need and judging by what I’m seeing, I may have arrived too late.”

Callie stared back at Georgia. “You know what, Georgia, I know I shouldn’t let you bait me, but I'm too exhausted. I am standing here, having been told my husband is dead, and you have the nerve to travel thousands of miles to resume an argument that ended whatever limited amount of goodwill we had for each other. What the hell are you doing here? Are you serious?”

Georgia
ripped off her gloves and threw them onto her coat as she prepared for battle.

“Oh please, Callista. Is this where we’re at? You yelling at me and me yelling at you, each of us refusing to even give an inch?”

She stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her and turned at the sound of a middle-aged couple rising to their feet. “And I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, who are the two of you? I would think the time for you to depart has long since passed.”

It is beyond mortifying to have these mortals witness how disrespectful my daughter is being toward me.
This will not do.

The woman moved forward, extending her hand. “I’m Callie’s friend, Stephanie. We live in the neighborhood. We’ve known each other for years. Both of our daughters were born around the same time and go to the same school. I don’t know why I’m rambling. This is my husband, Gil.” Stephanie broke out into a loud and nervous laugh.

What a nervous bundle of nerves this one is. I don’t have time to bother with this obnoxious woman. Is this the sort of person my daughter and granddaughter are exposed to?
Georgia
glanced at Stephanie’s outstretched hand and shook it with her left hand, fearing at any moment the woman would begin to cry.

Gil pulled Stephanie away. “It’s been a real pleasure meeting you,” Gil said, reaching for the door. “Callie, we’ll call you tomorrow morning to discuss arrangements.” The door shut behind them with a soft click.

“Damn, damn, damn, Georgia.” Callie yelled. “I can’t do this with you. And as for those people you dismissed, Gil and Stephanie have been more of a family to me than you ever were. You gave away your right to offer your opinion in my life when you banished me.”

“I didn’t banish you,” she said through gritted teeth. “That is a lie, Callista, and I won’t be lied to. You waltz into my office one day, interrupt a staff meeting to proclaim your love for that, that… that man. What was I supposed to do? You were talking nonsense. Love…normal life, you kept on droning on and on about what you wanted. Your needs. You were such a sniffling little, ungrateful wretch.”

“Why can’t you ever listen to me? You…you…you never listened and you always treated me like an afterthought. Like I was a possession you could use as a bargaining chip to negotiate a more powerful position for yourself.”

“Is that what you think? Do you believe I cared so little for you? Listen to me, you ignorant child. Everything I have done I have done for you. I have clawed my way to the top on my hands and knees for our family’s benefit. You didn’t mind the power and wealth when I bought you that little English convertible. As long as you had your way, you were content.”

“It doesn’t matter, Georgia,” Callie said. “None of this matters. What’s done is done. Now, if you’ll kindly leave.”

“I didn’t banish you,” she said. “You made your choice and from that very moment, you took control of your own life. Whether or not you will admit it, I have responsibilities requiring sacrifice. Sacrifice from not only me, but also from those I love. And now, you intend to throw your mother out of your home. The woman who gave you life, who raised you, who loved you even when you cursed my name and kept me out of my granddaughter’s life.”

“Georgia, I had hopes. I had hoped your icy heart would have melted with the birth of Sophie. But, after sixteen years, I am forced to admit it hasn’t."

Georgia
clenched her hands. “You were promised to another and you had gifts, which were meant for more important things. This?” She motioned to reference the house. “This isn’t what you were meant for.” She stood up, her face inches from Callie’s. “You spat in the face of our family’s tradition and the Fates, and said no thank you; I don’t want the blessings you have bestowed upon me. You had a calling, the ability to do great things and what have you done with it? Nothing. You are an embarrassment to the Demigod…”

“Mom?”

A voice came from the kitchen and a young girl walked into the room. “What’s going on?” the girl asked.

Be smart
.
You get one second to make an impression on this girl.

“Sophia? I’ve always dreamed of this day. Darling, you’re lovely.”

I’m sure I sounded as bad as I think it did. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Callie walked towards her daughter and protectively stood in front of Sophie.

“Honey,” Callie scratched her head. “I don’t know how to explain, but this is Georgia.”

Georgia
corrected her. “Sophia, I’m your Yiayia.”

“You don’t look like a person who would go by Yiayia. I’m sorry, but this is too much,” Sophie said.

Georgia
took a step closer to her granddaughter, not sure if she should embrace her or wait for Sophie to make the next move. Sophie left the room, running up the stairs.

Callie dropped onto the nearest couch, her head cradled in her hands. “Well, your first interaction with Sophie was sheer perfection. Looks like your relationship with my daughter will be as successful as our relationship. Why doesn’t the house just explode? I think an explosion would make this evening complete.”

Georgia
gathered her items and slowly walked toward the front door.

Come, come Callista. Stop being stubborn. Give in to it. Let your last little bit of will power leave you
.

“Mom…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’ve forced me into a corner."

Georgia
smiled inwardly.

“You’ve shoved your way into my life and for Sophie’s sake; you have to stay with us.”

Callie walked towards the adjoining hallway, to the first floor bath and guest bedroom. She switched on the bedroom’s overhead light. The simple room featured a wrought-iron bed, patchwork quilt, overstuffed reading chair and antique wardrobe.

“Georgia, you can sleep in this room. Is your luggage outside?”

“No dear. It’s in the guest room.”

Sparks of light bounced around the room, revealing to Callie a matching set of luggage. Callie shoved Georgia into the room.

“Are you crazy? Someone is going to see you Shimmer and we’ll spend the next few days trying to get them to sip your special clover tea to make them forget. Stop being cute.”

Georgia
walked past Callie and sat down in the reading chair, reaching over to turn on the reading lap. She grimaced at the glare caused by the overhead light and with a sudden glint in her eyes the light switch clicked off.

“There. That is so much better.”

Callie frowned. “I’d offer to help you unpack, but I’m guessing it’s—”

They both finished the sentence, “—already taken care of.”

Callie walked out of the room and returned with a towel and washcloth set. She placed them on the bed.

“Georgia,” Callie began.

She raised her right eyebrow.

“Okay,” Callie paused. “Mother, enough with the tricks. While you’re here, you have to promise me you will leave the Shimmering stuff back in Greece.”

Georgia
got up and walked to the bed, reaching for the towels. She folded them again, avoiding her daughter’s gaze.

“Mother, promise me. Sophie isn’t part of this. You know it and I know it. She isn’t like us and I would like to keep it that way. She’s been through enough.” Tears welled up in Callie’s eyes.