The God and the Geek

Chaper One

The Return

I wake up in a cold sweat. I wait to see if there is any movement in the house, as sometimes my screams wake up my mom. I cannot believe that I’m still having those dreams. The man of my dreams was Tristan. I’m not crazy or anything, but he said since he was a god of Greek descent he could enter my dreams. At first, I was skeptical. When had the Greek gods decided to take a vacation from fantasy and take all-expenses paid stay in reality? Then, when he kept returning to my dreams, I was given proof. He could make flowers (and more) appear out of his hand. He could read my mind, or so it seemed at the time. However, the most persuasive thing he showed me was Hephaestus-as in the Greek god of the Forge Hephaestus! He was in a wheel chair (thanks to his mother, the edge of a cliff, and a very big ego) but he was very nice. The thing that convinced me was when he took out of his messenger bag a lightning bolt. Not just any lightning bolt however, one of Zeus’ lightning bolts. Then I was convinced. As a fan of Greek mythology, I would sometimes burst into heartfelt yet unattractive laughter at the irony of the situation.

He had been visiting me in my dreams for over two years. During that time, surprisingly, we fell in love. He explained that he was the son of one of the gods, but wouldn’t tell me which one. He said that his father was not happy that he was spending so much time with a mortal, but that he was willing to risk it to spend more time with me. Near the end of the second year, he proposed to me, and I accepted. On the day of our picnic, we were celebrating our engagement. Then the shadow demanded his return and I hadn’t seen him since. That was over three years ago. I hadn’t had that dream for two of them; I thought I was over it.

A tiny flicker of hope started to grow within me. Maybe Tristan was back, coming to keep his promise. No. I would not get my hopes up only to get them crushed again. For the first year when the dreams stopped, I had a breakdown. I wouldn’t talk to anyone and wouldn’t leave my room. I hadn’t realized how much I truly loved him until he was gone. It was almost crippling, to think that I wouldn’t see his face every night as I lay sleeping. That I wouldn’t be able to brush his midnight black hair from his sun-tanned face. Wouldn’t be able to kiss him good-bye every morn, waking up more well rested than ever. The second year I went back to school. I started talking again, reconnecting with my mom. I even met Eric, a jock who turned out to be really nice. We had been going out for over seven months now. I glanced at my bed stand, on top of which was a picture of Eric and me. He was the star quarter back of the football team. Now, I’m not the cheerleader in the head jock head cheerleader relationship, but just a junior who is dating one of the most popular people in school. I glanced at my clock. “Great! Now I’m going to be late for school!” I mumble as I hurriedly grabbed my navy blue jeans and my ‘I wanna be famous’ tee shirt and rush out the door. “Bye mom!” I yell as I bound out the door and on to the bus. “Thanks for waiting, Frank.” I say to the bus driver as I make my way to my usual seat at the front of the bus.

“No problem Beeba.” He says. I’ve known Frank since I was little and use to take the bus to kindergarten, first and second grade. Ever since he heard my friends call me Beeba, he had started to use it as a form of endearment. While the big yellow bus made its way towards school, I thought about my dream. It was almost as vivid as Tristan’s actual visits. ‘Ok, get it together! Just focus on school and Eric.’ I thought to myself. Trying not to think about Tristan was going to take a lot of energy. This was going to be a really long day.

***

“Trice! Trice!” Eric yelled, waving me over to his friends. He was surrounded by the rest of the football team, the cheerleading team, and the popular wanna-be’s. Once I said thanks and goodbye to Frank I made my way over to the “it” crowd.

“Hey Eric.” I said and gave him a kiss. It wasn’t the same as when I kissed Tristan, but it was better than kissing my pillow. It wasn’t passionate but it was long and I was getting tired of it. Then, when I was just about to break away, I heard a growl. It sounded like angry wolf mixed with a bear that did not get enough sleep. Once I broke the kiss, the growling stopped. I looked up at Eric’s chocolate brown eyes. They were so different from Tristan’s sea blue eyes. No matter how long I hadn’t seen him, I would always be surprised by the obvious differences between the two. I kissed Eric again, just to see what would happen. It was a short kiss but once again I heard the growling. So whatever or whomever was making the noise either didn’t like Eric or didn’t like me.