"You're like a drug. I'm addicted," purred Senator Miguel Flores through the phone.
"How cliché." Mnem lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Mortals! So predictable.
"You don't like my metaphor?" Miguel chuckled. "I'll do better. You, Mnem, are like a field of corn."
"Corn. Mmm...I'm intrigued." Mnem set the phone down on the table, tapped the SPEAKER mode.
"A field of corn is beautiful and bountiful. It is sustenance. It nourishes heart, mind, and soul. I want to walk through the rows of your waving golden stalks. I hunger for your sweet taste."
Mnem cleared her throat to cover her laugh. "Oh my. Stick with politics, Miguel, not poetry." She was too old to fall for flattery, especially the kind wrapped in such a cringe-worthy metaphor. And yet her body warmed.
"I wanted to hear your voice."
"Mm-mm." Mnem tapped her pen on the table and stared at the abysmal list in front of her. She had stared at it all morning. "That's nice."
"You sound distracted."
"Sorry, just working on my résumé."
"Those are always tricky. Experience and education are a good place to start."
Education. Oh dear...
Mnem grit her teeth. Thales of Miletus, Democritus, Anaxagoras of Clazomenae. The early great philosophers. Not to mention the Parthenon of gods and goddesses. The wisdom of the ages. Life schooled her. "I was educated by the world's greatest thinkers." And I tutored them as well.
"MIT or Harvard?"
Mnem set down the pen and rubbed her forehead. Three cups of strong coffee, a handful of green olives, and a chunk of feta cheese stopped her throbbing headache but not the pain in her soul. "Neither. I went to a small private college in Greece."
"I have to go—another infernal meeting—but I want to see you tonight."
"Not tonight." Mnem's daughters were arriving shortly.
There was a heartbeat of silence. "Oh." Evidently, no woman ever turned down a date with the hunky senator. "I'm not a gameplayer, Mnemosyne."
"Oh please, you're a politician." He has no idea how many I've known. "It's the most game playing profession in the world."
"I'm talking about—be there in a moment—sorry, I'm talking about relationships." Miguel's voice was low, as though he cupped his hand around his mouth.
Mnem bristled. "I'm not playing hard to get, if that's what you mean. I have a life." A new mortal one that's getting more complicated by the hour. "I do not appreciate your insinuation that I am toying with you." Although I did plenty of times in the past. "Goodbye, Miguel." Mnem tapped END and pushed away the phone.
Another complication she did not need. Especially a high-profile one that came with dating a senator.
Mnem returned to her list. It was too short. A tarantula's knee short. This list was supposed to help spin a resume. Instead it was a venomous reminder of her failings.
Mnem was the ex-goddess of remembrance. She was able to recall with minute detail everything she ever learned. Except there was one huge problem. It was all ancient. Dusty laws and worn philosophies that were no longer relevant. She understood truths, that over time, became twisted and distorted.
Education was simple back then. Reading, thinking, and discourse was the cornerstone of a great mind. Timeless wisdom once reigned supreme. Now entertainment ruled mortal lives. The eternal meanings behind words and ideas were polluted. Fouled in the name of niceness. The world was not nice. It was never nice. The goddesses were not nice. But that did not mean the world was not beautiful and miraculous, and filled with euphoria and wonder.
The doorbell rang and shook Mnem from her memories.
"Momma," Euterpe called from the front door. "Oh, my goddess, Calliope told me everything." She hurried to Mnem, wrapped her arms around her.
Mnem hugged back, then pulled the tiny earphones from her daughter's ears. "That's a lovely melody."
"Isn't it? She's a child prodigy and plays like she is one with the flute."
"Where is my mortal Momma?" Thalia entered the room. "I bought stock in Botox once I heard."
"Not funny." Mnem kissed her cheek.
The front door slammed.
"I need help," called Clio from the foyer. She walked into the room, a stack of books in her arms.
"What's all this?" Euterpe took half the stack.
"Treatises, vade mecum, and tomes on the philosophy of death." Clio set the books on the table.
"How awful," Thalia shuddered. "Shall I burn these for you, Momma?"
"What? No." Clio's hands hovered over the books. "Don't you dare. Momma may want to read them."
"Momma doesn't need to be reminded that she's going to...you know. Momma needs amusement! Entertainment!" Thalia turned to Mnem. "Let's do something fun tonight."
Her daughters' energy filled Mnemosyne with love. A mortal death was in her future, but at least she would die loved.
Euterpe picked up Mnem's list. "What's this?"
"My skills." Mnem flicked at the corner of the paper. "What do you think?"
"Ancient philosophy expert." Euterpe wrinkled her nose. "Bo-ring. Ancient art expert. Mmmm...master of creativity...I don't know." With a pitying smile, she risked looking at her mother.
Mnem's frustration expelled with a loud sigh. "That bad?"
Clio plucked the paper from Euterpe's fingers. "You need coding skills."
"Like the Caesar Code or the Phaistos Disk?"
"No, computer coding." Clio nodded encouragingly. "Maybe you should go to school and get a degree."
"Goddess, no." Mnem bristled, then stalked to the bar. "That would take too long."
"There's trade school," said Thalia. "You could be a dental assistant."
"Put these," Mnem held up her hand and wiggled her fingers, "once-divine fingers into a mortal's mouth? Never." She flung open the bar refrigerator.
Thalia, Clio, and Euterpe exchanged trouble glances behind their mother's back.
"Momma," said Clio. "You must face reality."
"I am facing reality," she snapped, spinning around.
Clio's voice dropped to a whisper. "You have no skills for today's world."
"What kind of muse are you?!" Mnem snatched the list from her hand. "Inspire me, daughters!"
Three muses looked from one to the other. Their faces spoke what their lips dare not. We got nothing.
Euterpe wrung her hands. "You've put us in a tight spot. This never happened before. We need time to process—"
"To ruminate and reflect—" added Clio.
"To ponder, to—" Thalia continued.
"Oh, for goddesses' sake. Spare me." Mnem sipped on the ouzo. "I don't have time for long-term pondering. But then again, what would you know about time? I feel time here." She pressed her hand to her gut. "I feel each second, each minute. Gone. Gone. Another moment closer to..." The word congealed on her tongue, sour and putrid. "Death."
"Such melodrama, Momma. Let me look at your list again. We will think of something." Thalia looked at her sisters. "Right?"
They both nodded with feigned confidence.
"Give us a few days to come up with a better list," said Clio.
"Fine." Mnem grabbed the paper.
The paper's edge sliced razor-like into Mnem's fragile mortal skin. A thin sliver appeared. Red and bright and mortal. Mnem stared. Her daughters gasped. It was one thing to be told your goddess mother was no longer divine and quite another to see the crimson proof.
Clio swallowed the horror in her throat. "Do you have a bandage?"
"No." Mnem watched the blood form a rivulet that traveled down her finger.
Thalia made a beeline for the kitchen, ripped off a sheet of paper towel, then offered it to her mother.
Mnem did not take it. Did not see it. She saw only the blood. Heard only the roar of reality in her ears. "Mortal skin is ridiculously fragile." Her voice sounded hollow, as though she stood at the bottom of a deep well. After what felt like hours, but was only seconds, Mnem felt six warm divine arms encircle her.