Daughter of Wine

Leo

I thought I was busy before. When Calypso sets her mind to something, she's a machine.

Within a day, she's gathered enough supplies for a weeklong voyage—food, flasks of water, herbal medicines from her garden. She wove a sail big enough for a small yacht and made enough rope for all the rigging. She's gotten so much done that by the second day she asks me if I need any help with my own project.

I look up from the circuit board that's slowly coming together. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were anxious to get rid of me."

"That's a bonus," she admits. She's dressed for work in a pair of jeans and a grubby white T-shirt. When I asked her about the wardrobe change, she claimed she had realized how practical these clothes were after making some for me.

In the blue jeans, she doesn't look much like a goddess. Her T-shirt is covered with grass and dirt stains, like she's just run through a swirling Gaea. Her feet are bare. Her cinnamon-toast hair is tied back, which makes her almond eyes look even larger and more startling. Her hands are calloused and blistered from working with rope.

Looking at her, I feel a tugging in his stomach. She reminds me of Calli. 

Gods, I miss her. I've been alone with Calypso on this island, for what, a week? She has to be freaking out. 

"So?" she prompts.

"So...what?"

She nods at the circuitry. "So can I help? How is it coming?"

"Oh, uh, I'm good here. I guess. If I can wire this thing up to the boat, I should be able to navigate back to the world."

"Now all you need is a boat."

I try to read her expression. I'm not sure if she's annoyed that I'm still here, or wistful that she in't leaving too. Then I look at all the supplies she's stacked up—easily enough for two people for several days.

"What Gaea said..." I hesitate. "About you getting off this island. Would you want to try it?"

She scowls. "What do you mean?"

"Well...I'm not saying it would be fun having you along, always complaining and glaring at me and stuff. But I suppose I could stand it, if you wanted to try."

Her expression softens just a little.

"How noble," she mutters. "But no, Leo. If I tried to come with you, your tiny chance of escape would be no chance at all. The gods have placed ancient magic on this island to keep me here. A hero can leave. I cannot. The most important thing is getting you free so you can get back to your girlfriend and stop Gaea. Not that I care what happens to you," she adds quickly. "But the world's fate is at stake."

"Why would you care about that?" I ask. "I mean, after being away from the world for so long?"

She arches her eyebrows, as if surprised that I've asked a sensible question. "I suppose I don't like being told what to do—by Gaea or anyone else. As much as I hate the gods sometimes, over the past three millennia I've come to see that they're better than the Titans. They're definitely better than the giants. At least the gods kept in touch. Hermes has always been kind to me. And your father, Hephaestus, has often visited. He is a good person."

I'm not sure what to make of her faraway tone. She almost sounds like she was pondering my worth, not my dad's.

She reaches out and closed my mouth. I hadn't realized it was hanging open.

"Now," Calypso says, "how can I help?"

"Oh." I stare down at my project, but when I speak, I blurt out an idea that has been forming ever since Calypso made my new clothes. "You know that flameproof cloth? You think you could make me a little bag of that fabric?"

I describe the dimensions. Calypso waves her hand impatiently. "That will only take minutes. Will it help on your quest?"

"Yeah. It might save a life. And, um, could you chip off a little piece of crystal from your cave? I don't need much."

She frowns. "That's an odd request."

"Humor me."

"All right. Consider it done. I'll make the fireproof pouch tonight at the loom, when I've cleaned up. But what can I do now, while my hands are dirty?"

She holds up her calloused, grimy fingers. I can't help thinking there's nothing hotter than a girl who doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. Calli doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. But of course, that doesn't  apply to Calypso. Obviously.

"Well," I say, "you could twist some more bronze coils. But that's kind of specialized—"

She pushes in next to me on the bench and begins to work, her hands braiding the bronze wiring faster than I could have. "Just like weaving," she says. "This isn't so hard."

"Huh," I say. "Well, if you ever get off this island and want a job, let me know. You're not a total klutz."

She smirks. "A job, eh? Making things in your forge?"

"Nah, we could start our own shop," I say, surprising myself. Starting a machine shop has always been one of my dreams, and Calli and I had talked about it. "Leo, Calli, and Calypso's Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters."

"Fresh fruits and vegetables," Calypso offers.

"Ooh, Calli will love that. Cider and stew, too." I add. "We could even provide entertainment. You and Calli could sing and I could, like, randomly burst into flames."

Calypso shifts. "Leo, Calli, and Calypso's Garage. Kind of a long name, don't you think?"