The Deep End of the Sea Read Free Page A

here with you, drinking wine and reflecting upon my failures as a father. Instead, I would be at the entrance to the grotto, with all of the other laymen.”
    “They are not laymen,” I protested, and he hushed me, like he tended to do.
    “Fishermen, then. You could have easily killed me, matakia mou . But you didn’t.”
    He calls me his eyes, which is so lovely of him, and yet bittersweet at the same time. Because his eyes are gone and mine are still here, and I wish, oh-wish so much, that I could say the situation were reversed.
     

     
    The Girls love Mikkos. He is the only other person allowed to touch them, especially since he brings them little treats every time he visits. Legend claims my snakes are just as deadly as my eyes, but the actual truth of the matter is: I don’t know if they are.
    It’s weird, right? That we’ve been together for over two thousand years, and I’ve murdered far too many people, and I can’t say, one way or another, that the dozen snakes on my head are equally responsible?
    They are gentle creatures, individually named by me but normally referred to as a whole, since they intertwine together more often than not. More importantly, they abhor death just as avidly as I do. I know this not because they tell me in words, but because they get depressed. A strong sense of malaise infects them, rendering them listless owners of poor appetites. So we do not risk anything, not when it comes to anyone except Mikkos. And even then, it took a good decade before they let him touch them.
    But it isn’t only Mikkos they like. There is one more person who the snakes adore, only it’s always done under the cover of a thick wrap. And that’s Hermes. Yes, the god Hermes, Athena’s brother and Poseidon’s nephew. And while I do not think too favorably of the gods and goddesses in general now, I will admit I am also quite fond of the messenger god.
    Okay, more than fond. He is, to be precise, my best friend.
    Hermes began visiting me shortly after I became a monster. In addition to being a messenger for the mighty Zeus, he also ferries the souls of the dead for his uncle Hades. I, being a newly minted murderess, had souls for Hermes to ferry. I loathed and feared him at first, convinced he would abuse me like his relatives had, but he is a persistent thing. It took years—literally, hundreds of years—but he chipped away at my shell with acts of kindness small and large.
    Once, early on in our relationship, I awoke to sounds just outside my inner sanctum. As this was before actual locks were installed, when a heavy urn served as a doorstop, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I lowered my voice to what I hoped sounded monstrous and shouted, “Depart forever if you know what’s good for you!” But a knock sounded in the darkness as a response, rattling me and the Girls. I attempted one more warning, “You must wish for death. Leave this island and never return!”
    And yet, it wasn’t a wayward stranger who answered. It was a god. “I’ve brought you something.”
    Hermes had brought me something .
    I didn’t know what to do. So far, he’d been kind in his brief visits, but the gods are, at best, temperamental, so one never knows which direction the wind will blow in their favor. I left the door firmly shut, and after what seemed like an hour, and the silence around me punctured only by Poseidon’s angry waves against the shores of my tiny isle, I arose to ensure his departure. The moment my hand touched the door, he called out, “I’m leaving now. If you need more, let me know. Sweet dreams, Dusa.” A rush of wings followed, signaling his true departure.
    He’d called me Dusa, a name my youngest sister bestowed upon me back when her hand had to hold one of my fingers, it was so small. I’d not heard the name for years, and here it was, coming from a god.
    I ended up crying. The Girls were soft and loving, peppering my face with tiny licks that served as kisses, but I wept long