"Well?" asked Mnem while driving home from window shopping with Inna, Naret, and Axie.
"Well what?" Calliope's voice was far away, even though she was across town in the home of a New York Times bestselling author who couldn't finish his novel series.
Mnem called Calliope once a week for a daughter update. Mnem was not a meddlesome mother and mortality didn't change that.
"Did you girls put your nine gorgeous heads together and come up with a plan for my life?"
"We tried, Momma. We really did. But..."
"You've got to be joking. You're the muses! Not one of my fabulous goddess daughters has any ideas?" Anger and sarcasm made her voice as sharp as a xiphos, a warrior's double-edged sword. Mnem gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white.
"Not ideas you'd like."
"Try me."
"Do you want to be a history teacher?"
"Heavens, no. Grade papers and read essays? Sounds like Hades."
"What about a research assistant for the ancient history department at a university?"
"Too much researching."
"You're not making this easy." Calliope's voice was as gentle as a summer Aegean breeze. "If it's any consolation, we heard FEM fired others."
Mnem slammed the breaks at the crosswalk to let an old woman pushing a wire utility cart shuffle across the street. That might be me in a few decades. Haggard. Badly dressed. Wearing comfort shoes with arch support. She shuddered. "Who? Give me names."
"I don't know. That's the rumor going around. MAS fired gods too. If any goddesses know what's happening, they aren't talking. Everyone's on edge. They're worried about who's next and wondering what the criteria for being fired is."
No longer being relevant. "You girls have nothing to fear."
Mnem's daughters were always in high demand.
"Momma, we decided it's not your fault."
"It's all my fault."
"Not really." Calliope's voice shifted, tightened with conviction, like an attorney speaking to a jury. "You were assigned the goddess role. You didn't choose it. Just like we didn't choose ours. FEM made you the goddess of remembrance, knowledge, history, and art."
"I am the daughter of Uranus and Gaia."
"This isn't about them," said Calliope. "Did FEM foresee that your role would wither like a grape on a vine? If Shee did, then why didn't Shee help you? Many companies retrain their employees. FEM chose not to help. Have you looked at social media lately, Momma? Memory, wisdom—mortals don't remember what they posted a day ago. Opinions and positions change faster than Hermes flies around the globe. Our current world conceals all our most sacred values."
Mnem tapped the accelerator. "You're right. I hadn't thought about it like that."
"I believe—all my sisters do—that those values are still there, buried deep under a techno pile of crap."
"Thank you. I feel better. Not inspired though."
Calliope laughed. "Where are you right now?"
Mnem told her the cross streets.
"You're not far from Gallery Hall. How long has it been since you were there?"
"Years." Mnem remembered the art museum's grand opening. A CEO of something or other took her to an event many years ago. It was all premium alcohol, artisan-crafted cuisine, and society gossip. The art was a backdrop. Mnem recalled slipping away to the antiquities wing to admire the larger-than-life Greek statue of Aphrodite—in truth, she's a petite little thing—and to marvel at the ceremonial basin carved with a hippocampos and two wave-riding nereids. The CEO....
His name! His business! Goddess, no, I can't remember!
The back of Mnem's neck beaded with sweat. "That's a good idea. I'll bask in the antiquities room for a few hours before it closes. Thanks, sweetheart." She turned right and headed for Gallery Hall. Ancient art and eternal beauty. Good for soothing her troubled soul.
After Calliope shared news of her sisters' inspirational deeds, their call ended. Fifteen minutes later, Mnem turned into the parking lot of Gallery Hall. Squinting from the reflected glare, Mnem walked to the entrance, a modern concrete structure of white travertine. She preferred museums with ancient architecture. With columns and cornices and arches. With pediments and peristyles. But she was biased, after all.
Mnem paid the admittance fee and entered the bright, airy, and spacious interior. Exhaling with relief, she headed toward the antiquities wing. She remembered right where it was.
The moment Mnem crossed the antiquities threshold, her soul warmed. Neolithic clay figurines. Bronzes from the Hellenistic Age. Roman mosaics. Marble statuettes. Marble vessels from the Cycladic islands. Vases, urns, and mummy portraits. Engraved gems and royal jewels. The pieces hummed with ancient vibrations. Mnem's shoulders relaxed, the weight of her mortality temporarily lifted. She inhaled the rarified aura. It was a nepenthe, suffused her bones and coursed through her veins with the speed of an injected drug.
I am home.
Mnem joined the small group of visitors crowded around a Greek amphora in vivid golds and adorned with figures painted black.
"This amphora was given as a prize for the winner of the four-horse chariot race." The docent, a thin woman with large-rimmed black glasses perched atop her beak nose, pointed to the charioteer side of the amphora.
"A trophy?" asked an old man in a plaid bow tie.
"Yes, they made many of them," said the docent. "The real prize, however, was inside."
"Gold coins?" asked a young woman.
"Precious oil."
"Like olive oil?" The young woman wrinkled her nose, clearly disappointed.
Mnem stepped forward. "Not just any olive oil. It was high quality oil from not yet ripened green olives. You see, oil made from ripened olives doesn't have the same value. Did you know that olive oil had many uses back then?" Mnem moved into the middle of the group. "It was used for funeral rituals, beauty, as fuel for lamps, and for cooking. But the oil in that particular amphora was sheer luxury. Liquid gold. The winner would sell it and earn about three years of income. Not bad for a single competition."
The small group moved closer to the amphora.
"Four horse chariot races were extremely dangerous, and the charioteers were fearless." Mnem's lips pushed into an impish smile. Charioteers were wonderful lovers too. Full of energy and strength and stamina. "If a spoke broke or a wheel came off, the charioteer was thrown from the carriage and pounded to a bloody pulp under the horses' hooves."
"Oh my." A middle-aged woman with chunky jewelry clutched her purse.
"It was a common form of family entertainment." Mnem turned to the docent. "Forgive me for interrupting."
"No problem at all." The docent shrugged. "Sounds like you know your Greek history." She turned to the group. "If you step over here, you'll see Aurelia, a mummy portrait from about 100 AD."
"Aurelia? Really? I know her." Mnem hurried over. It is her! I'd know those earrings and that necklace anywhere!
"Excuse me?" The docent's brows arched.
The little crowd swiveled their heads towards Mnem.
Mnem laughed. "I know of her. The jewelry." She pointed to the gold and pearl earrings. "Very expensive. And the necklaces. Emeralds and pearls. She was one of society's elite." Mnem lowered her voice. "Aurelia, so the story goes, was not a faithful woman. Loved to frolic with the gladiators if you know what I mean. The gold beads on her necklace," she gestured to the mummy painting, "indicate all her dalliances, and the emeralds in between, all the times her husband looked the other way."
"Why did he do that?" asked the young woman.
"Aurelia's father was a wealthy and powerful senator. Her husband dared not divorce her. Rumor has it that Nero's poisoner, Locusta of Gaul, murdered her with a bitter brew."
The little group stared at the mummy painting with newfound curiosity. It wasn't just a painting anymore; it became a real person.
"How interesting." The docent pursed her lips and pushed up her thick glasses. "How do you come to know all this?"
"Oh," Mnem flapped her hand. "I studied art in Greece. I'm Greek. Although the portrait is obviously Romano-Egyptian."
"Yes." The docent looked past Mnem. And paled. "Um...would you like to tell us about this piece?" She led the group to a case with an eight-inch figurine.
Mnem peered into the case. "Etruscan. 500 BC. Bronze. Usil is the solar god." Where is he now? Haven't seen him for ages.
"Never heard of that god," said Plaid Bow Tie.
"You might know him as Helios. Or Sol. Look at the intricacy of the artwork. Magnificent."
"His hands are supersized. How come?" asked a man with multiple piercings.
Because he couldn't keep his hands off the ladies. "Art of this time period focused on body language and posture. Most people did not read, therefore the body needed to convey the emotions, strength, and purpose of the subject. Hands were considered to be as expressive as faces."
"Those wings and halo make him look like an angel," said the young woman.
Hardly. "Wings and halos are nothing new," said Mnem. "The earliest art from Mesopotamian has a pantheon of winged creatures and half-man, half-beast chimeras."
"Do you have a story about Usil?" asked Pierced Man.
"I do." Mnem told them how Usil had a terrible relationship with his daughter Catha, and had an ego the size of Nethuns, the Etruscan Poseidon.
The docent looked past Mnem again, her face blanching. "If everyone would like to take a look over here." She shepherded the group toward a statue.
Mnem was about to follow, but a woman stepped in front of her.
"You seem to know a lot about our art." The woman's voice was a millimeter shy of disapproval. She tucked a shiny strand of platinum hair behind her ear. Her Chanel Rouge Coco smile was Hospitality Plus, yet her steely grey eyes bore into Mnem's.
Mnem had never ever squirmed under any mortal's gaze. And she wasn't starting now! She did a quick once-over. The woman was in her late thirties or early forties. Hard to tell with all the Botox and collagen injections. The woman had no purse. Dressed to impress in a navy St. John skirt suit and silk camisole. Pearls adorned her neck and ears. Sensible Ferragamo shoes on her feet. Last year's. Footwear meant for walking...around a museum.
Mnem brightened, her eyes meeting the woman's frosty ones. "You must be the Docent Program Supervisor."
"The Museum Educator and Docent Program Supervisor." The woman flicked her gaze at the group, like a mother keeping tabs on rambunctious children.
"It's an absolute delight to meet you." Mnem stuck out her hand. "I hope you don't mind my sharing some of my knowledge with your lovely docent."
The woman shook Mnem's hand. "Where is your art degree from?"
Why do mortals value a scrap of paper over experience and wisdom? "I attended a small private college in Greece but have no formal degree." Mnem lifted her palms, brandished a c'est la vie but unapologetic grin. "My specialty is ancient art, and I have extensive knowledge about all the pieces here."
The woman's frosty look melted, although her voice was still iced with skepticism. "Really?"
"Oh yes." More than you know.
"My name is Phoebe Lawson. You are..."
"Mnemosyne Athanasiou. My friends call me Mnem."
"Mnemosyne? Like the goddess of memory?"
"Yes." Mnem worked hard to keep her face from betraying the conflicting emotions rushing through her body.
Phoebe Lawson pivoted on her sensible Ferragamo flats. "What can you tell me about that piece?" She pointed across the room.
Art spoke to Mnem. Every sculpture, slab, figurine, portrait, bronze, urn, and bit of jewelry. All of it.
Mnem approached the piece. It vibrated with time and place. Quivered with the artist's own energy.
Phoebe Lawson stepped in front of the description card.
Ah, this is a test. Mnem backed away. "This is a marble grave stella from 460 BC. The man is a Greek foot soldier. One can tell this from his shield, spear, helmet, and well-defined musculature." Mnem went on to translate the Megarian script. She pointed out the details, explained what town it came from, and the daily life of a Greek foot soldier. Mnem skipped the part of her quick trysts with a few of them.
"Impressive. What about this one?" Phoebe Lawson's hand touched her cheek with feigned concern. "Oh my, am I keeping you from something? I don't want to take up your time."
"I have all the time in the world. I'm in the middle of job hunting."
"Really? Mmm."
One hour and twenty ancient acquisitions later, Phoebe Lawson, her earlier cool demeanor now warm with respect, turned to Mnem. "I don't usually do this, but it seems you are heaven sent."
More like heaven fired.
"Our antiquities docent quit abruptly for health reasons and I'm in desperate need of another one. As you can see, Ashley, our newest intern, isn't that well versed in antiquities. Would you be interested? The pay isn't very good, but it will open future museum doors."
Interested?! Mnem was ecstatic.
~*~*~*~*~*~
GODDESSES INC is available everywhere.