One

Love is a beautiful entity—one that I long to experience. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and feel my husband's arms around me. I want to feel the passion, the craving, as we kiss. I want to have my husband run his fingers through my hair, admiring the strands. I want to make him coffee or breakfast or even something as simple as a sandwich. I want to be loved.

It doesn't help that I see love everywhere, either. Like right now, a couple in front of me, holding hands, lean in and kiss each other. A pang of yearning shot through me, and I gripped my book a little tighter. I blinked back the tears and looked down at my book, trying to get my mind away from my suffering. Someone's gaze burned onto my skin. I glanced around the park that I sat in, but there wasn't anyone around. I frowned but returned to my book.

When I noticed the time growing later, I closed my book and headed back to my two-story house. My mother bought it for me, saying it was cheap, but I knew she did because it would keep me close. Hers is next door, and I often find her in my house. My mother is hugely overbearing—she never lets me out of her sight. I have to tell her where I'm going, when I will be back, and whom I am going with. And most importantly: no boyfriends. My only solace is gardening and reading. Oh, and dogs.

I walked home, taking in the sweet smell of flowers and grass. Although Mississippi doesn't get winter, the air is slowly getting warmer every day, and the grass and flowers are starting to make their appearance. The air smelled of their presence, too, and the birds began to get louder. I reveled in their songs. Our "winter" is gone now.

My happiness dashed out the window when I stepped into my kitchen. My mother stood next to my stove, a frown on her lips. "Where have you been? You didn't answer my texts or calls. Did you not get them?"

I clenched my jaw but pasted on a smile. Oh, I got her calls, but I watched it ring. "I went to the park. I needed to get some fresh air. I'm sorry; I forgot to tell you." I told her everything she wanted to hear, and it worked. She smiled and nodded.

"Oh. Well, that's all right, sweetie."

"I love seeing you, mother, but I have to make dinner. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

She looked as if she wanted to protest but nodded, leaving my kitchen. With the incident in the park, and now my mother, I didn't have any energy to make dinner. I headed to the fridge and grabbed some butternut squash spaghetti from yesterday. I threw it into the microwave and ate it.

Sometimes, I wish my mother didn't smother me. She forced me to sit back and watch as my friends all had their first kisses, first boyfriends or girlfriends, and some have even gotten married. The pain of watching one of my best friends walking down the aisle, swathed in white...

The next morning, to distract me from my emotions, I worked in my garden. I braided my hair out of my face and slipped on my gardening gloves. I always have had a massive greet thumb; I can get anything to grow. I kneeled in front of my newest shrub: lavender roses. I turned on the hose and watered them. Then I took my clippers and trimmed off dead leaves and misplaced stems—or stems that rub together.

I didn't know what hit me when something large and solid barreled into me. My back hit the ground, and all of the air rushed out of my lungs. The object started licking my face; I grinned—a dog! I laughed and reached up to scratch behind the large Doberman's ear. This dog amazed me; his coat didn't have any color other than white. Oh, wait; there is a black spot on top of his head.

"Spot! Oh, no! I am so sorry!" a man called out. The dog clambered off of me. I sat up and forgot to breathe for a second. A beautiful man jogged up to me, alarm in his eyes. "Are you okay? I did not mean to let him out of the house."

The man had thick, jet-black hair that glinted purple in the sunlight, piercing, arctic-blue eyes framed with black eyelashes, and a jaw and cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut me. One look at him was all it took to get my heart racing.

"Yeah, um, I'm fine." I glanced down at the dog, wagging his stumpy tail next to the man's legs. "I love your dog; he's so adorable."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I am Aidon." He stuck out his hand, and I took it. He helped me to my feet.

"I'm Calantha." I patted his dog's head. "You named your dog Spot?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Ah... no. My nephew did."

"Well, I think it's adorable."

"Um, you have something in your hair..." he reached up and plucked a leaf off my head. His touch sent warmth throughout my body, and I resisted the urge to shiver. I blushed beet red—how embarrassing is that? I'm covered in dirt and sweat!

"Would you like to join me for dinner sometime? To make up for Spot mauling you, of course. I also just moved in, and I would love the company." He pointed to a house down the street.

I blinked in surprise. Me? He wants to spend time with me? "I would—"

"Absolutely not," a voice interrupted—my mother. She walked into view, and I tried not to burst into tears. Why can't I have this one thing? Why must you demolish the one hope I have? "She will not be having dinner with you, right, Calantha?"

"Right, mother," I mumbled, lowering my gaze in shame.

"Oh. All right. It was nice meeting you, then." I detected something in his voice—was his tone disappointed?

It wasn't until I heard his retreating footsteps, did I look up. The temptation to chase after him almost took over me. But I held it back—along with my melancholy.

My mother watched him leave before turning to me. "What have I told you? You are not allowed a boyfriend unless I approve! I will not have a harlot for a daughter!"

I flinched. "I know, mother. I'm sorry. I'm going to take a shower and get this dirt off me. I'll see you later, okay?" I kissed her cheek, and all-but dashed inside.

I ran up to my room, my throat burning with incoming tears. I turned on the shower, threw my clothes across the room, and jumped into the bathtub—not caring that I could barely call the water tepid. I cried for a good ten minutes before actually showering.

When I dragged myself out of the shower, I stopped to stare at myself in the mirror. I have wavy, light-brown hair, green eyes, and tan skin—nothing special, nothing attractive. I don't have big breasts or a butt, either. Maybe that's why my mother won't let me have any boyfriends—because I'm ugly, and she is trying to spare me the humiliation. Yeah, that's probably it. Aidon was kind only because his dog tackled me.

I went to bed early. My mother yelling at me took away my appetite, and I didn't feel like eating.

~~~

I sensed her once I moved into her town. I do not know why I chose this sleepy, small Mississippi town, but I did. Kerberos seemed to like the location, too. He loved the heat, I think, being a hellhound and all. But the minute that I drove my black 1967 Chevy Impala down Mainstreet—the only road coming in and out of the town—I felt her presence.

Demeter is near.

I never had any problems with my sister; although, she is very controlling—never accepting anything other than perfection. I believe she goes by Chloe now. All gods have epithets now: for our original names are outdated. I do not know the last time we spoke—perchance a few decades. I believe she has a daughter—a flower goddess, if I am correct. It was of pure coincidence that my new residence sat across the street from my sister's.

I saw her daughter before I caught a glimpse of my sister. Kerberos begged for a stroll in the park, and I complied. I have to say her daughter snatched the air from my lungs with her beauty. Demeter's daughter's mahogany hair that glinted gold in the sunlight fell down her back in waves. Her emerald eyes matched the grass beneath from where she sat on the park bench. I ran my gaze over her magnificently tanned skin—she had absolutely no blemishes anywhere. I can imagine how soft her skin would be against my hands...

She perched on the bench, her legs crossed underneath her, handsomely clutching a book—La Belle et la Bête or Beauty and the Beast. I blinked in surprise; she is reading the original French version! She looked up and spotted a man and a woman sharing an endearing kiss. But instead of smiling at the gesture, she seemed to grow distraught and stared longingly at the pair.

I wonder if she encountered misfortune in regards to love?

She sensed my eyes and perused the park with her emerald orbs. But I stood too far away for her to distinguish me as the culprit. Kerberos pushed me, growing impatient. I smiled and tore my stare off the stunning woman.

"All right, ζιζάνιο," I muttered. "I shall keep moving." Kerberos huffed at the pest mention, but I knew he understood that I jested.

The next day, I spotted her from my window. She sat out in her garden, hunched over a handsome bush of periwinkle-colored roses. She pulled her silky hair back into a single braid—but somehow managed to make it even more gorgeous. Judging by the fact that she gardened without using any godly abilities, she is unaware of her celestial parentage. I wonder why Demeter has not informed her of it? A veiled illusion of protection?

Since the day held the perfect temperature, I decided to take Kerberos back out again. As I usually do not put a leash on my hellhound—for he is more well-behaved than a dog—I opened the door without him having a restraint.

I most certainly did not expect my hellhound to make a beeline straight for the comely maiden. "Σκατά!" I swore, chasing after him.

With horror, I watched as he launched himself at her and tackled her to the ground. Demeter's daughter grunted under his weight, and he began to lick her face in her vulnerable state. She quickly started to laugh, and I almost stumbled. Her laugh sounded as enchanting as a grand piece composed by Beethoven or Bach or even Tchaikovsky.

"Spot! Oh, no! I am so sorry!" I exclaimed as I neared; I put on my American accent and tried my hardest to speak as Americans do. I called Kerberos by his English name, for, as I mentioned earlier, our names are old-fashioned. "Are you okay? I did not mean to let him out of the house."

She met my gaze, and I noticed she seemed more angelic in person. "Yeah, um, I'm fine." I stopped breathing for a full second when I heard her voice. Does she not have a single imperfection. "I love your dog; he's so adorable."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I am Aidon." I brought out my hand to help her to her feet. She clasped it, and I lifted her. I was correct—her skin felt like velvet.

"I'm Calantha." She extended her hand and stroked Kerberos' head. Calantha... that means beautiful flower in Greek—how fitting for an enchanting flower goddess. "You named your dog, Spot?"

I grinned in embarrassment. "Ah... no. My nephew did." It is true! Hermes named him when Hermes was a small god—some five millennia ago.

"Well, I think it's adorable."

I spotted a leaf from her roses tucked in her hair. "Um, you have something in your hair..."

I reached out and pulled it from its shiny prison. Calantha's hair felt like the finest silk in all of Asia. I forced myself not to bunch my hands within her tresses. Her cheeks turned the most adorable shade of crimson, and I smiled internally at the effect I have on her.

"Would you like to join me for dinner sometime? To make up for Spot mauling you, of course. I also just moved in, and I would love the company." I hoped she would respond with the affirmative. I shall have to thank Kerberos later for giving me an excuse to dine with Calantha. I gestured to my house down the street.

She looked taken aback. Have I offended some American tradition? She opened her mouth. "I would—"

"Absolutely not," a voice interrupted—my sister.

Demeter strolled into view, and I resisted the urge to silence her. Demeter took on another form since I visited her last; she now took the image of a woman in her forties with the same colored hair as the soil she presides over and the same hue of eyes. For a vain woman, it shocked me that she had wrinkles—but from frowning, not smiling.

"She will not be having dinner with you, right, Calantha?"

"Right, mother."

Calantha's demeanor immediately changed—it was as if Calantha transformed from a young, lively goddess to a meek servant. Calantha dropped my gaze, focusing on the blades of grass beneath her feet. I did not believe my sister would resort to striking her offspring—or would she?

"Oh. All right. It was nice meeting you, then." I feigned rejection. If stubbornness is what Demeter is giving me—I shall reciprocate it. If there is one thing I excel at—it is countering the actions the gods bestow me with using the same deed.

I broadened my hearing as I retreated to my house. What I detected coming from my sister's mouth appalled me—she referred to Calantha as a harlot! I continued to listen to their conversation, and I perceived that Calantha is to bathe.

I did not wish to frighten Calantha, but I wanted to check on her. I teleported into her living room and heard the shower operating upstairs. I followed the sound of running water and stopped outside a door in what I presume is her bedchambers. I overheard a noise that broke my heart—weeping.

After a minute, her tears relinquished, and I returned to my residence once again. I finalized my decision as soon as I stepped through my threshold—I would take Calantha away from Demeter, and give her the love Demeter has not.