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Once upon a time…

Is that how you usually start out fairy tales? I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know if this even qualifies as a fairy tale itself. I do know that I’m a character in it, though I wouldn’t call myself a hero. I do know that there is someone I fall in love with. I know that it was once upon a time, in a faraway place depending on where you’re reading this. I also know that there are no furry woodland creatures and I don’t sing, “A Dream is a Wish” while braiding my hair either. For one thing, I’m a guy. Hence the whole “having difficulty” getting this fairy tale thing going, y’know? So don’t expect any magical fairies to pop up and put me in any magical dresses to go convince a magical prince that I am the magical one.

That’s just not me.

For one, princes are absolute bullshit. There is no such thing as Prince Charming and I want you to know before you read any further that I’m not him. Never have been, never will be. I’m not even wealthy. My dad is a damn plumber, for crying out loud. Not much income scraping by us so there’s no way in hell I’m living in any white castle smack dab in the middle of New Jersey I’ll tell you that. I know you’re starting to get a little worried. So far I’ve just managed to scrape away every ideal you’ve ever had going into this fairy tale fantasy of mine. But I’ll let you know that one thing remains intact in all this…

Love and magic.

My name is Andreas Chatzi. Some kind of Greek name my grandmother had been attempting to pin on something since before even she was born. It was her shining day when my mother gave me life and asked my Yaya if she had any suggestions for my name. She tried to play it down like she was trying to cook something up on the spot, but deep in her heart she knew as soon as she saw me what I had to be called. Eighteen years later you can still see the pride gleam in her eyes whenever she says my name.

Personally I don’t see why it’s so special.

Perhaps I should move on.

Her name was Selene: a girl so full of compassion and femininity that she had beauty comparable to Aphrodite.

Of course, I speak with a lover’s bias. My eyes are now so rose-colored tinted that I’m surprised I can see at all. But I can say with confidence that she is more beautiful than any goddess in the world and still more.

Through her I have also learned that it is up to a lover to ignore the facts. It is the lover’s job to trust instinct rather than knowledge for it so easily binds us from our better intuition. To put it basically, I learned to go with my heart. Selene is a demi-goddess. To me, she is still a goddess. I have learned that well. I’ve learned so much in the end.

Little Miss Muffet

I was five when I met her. I didn’t know her well and truth be told I had little interest in her. I had little interest in girls, period, other than to tease them and torment them as often as I could. Girls were so easily riled that I couldn’t help but get a good time out of causing them absolute havoc. Chasing them around the courtyard, declaring to the lot that I was the Spider King! I’d watch in greedy delight as they scurried to the protection of the jungle gym, my twitchy feelers never too far behind.

Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey.

Those who managed to ignore me and my male counterparts were in a game of their own: hollering and screaming to the heavens a nursery rhyme they learned in class that day. The lyrics danced around on their noggins like rats leaping to catch the cheesy words. The children would squeal them out, hoping that if they cried the riddle loud enough the Gods would be stirred and move to the rhythm of their lyrical chanting. The words would chase each other faster than our little legs could pump. The words would bounce up higher to the heavens than our little legs could jump. I was very sure that they were saying it just loud enough already but the words came out more shrill and higher in pitch than the recitation before.

Along came a spider
Who sat down beside her

I crouched down in the grass next to a couple of my classmates. The back of my Levi’s were now tainted with muddy stains that mothers usually end up sobbing about later. Smut decorated my hands and cheeks and I looked more like a thrown-away rag doll than I did an actual boy. But I was proud of the terror I had caused, lips spreading to reveal my own crooked row of baby teeth. Thick black hair clung limply to my forehead before I made a roll from my toes to my soles and sent my body hurtling with a thump to the ground below. I spread out my legs and rested there.

And frightened Miss Muffet away.

“What do you think Miss Muffet did after the spider scared her?”
“I dunno…”
“Who cares?”
“She probably cried to her mommy.”

I smirked in my know-it-all way, ready for that question as if I had predicted it to come on my own. Said my reply like the girl (the one who had asked the question in the first place--I think her name was Amelia) was stupid to even consider something other than what I was about to tell her. Gave Amelia a look that said I was there when it happened so you shouldn’t dare question me. I was confident, hard-headed, an opinionated five year old child that laid out the facts as I saw fit. Traits I believe I inherited from my father; traits I believe were chiseled away by my mother.

“She died because she got too hungry.”
Some of them laughed. Amelia glared this look behind her big, wide red glasses like she was looking at a bug. Almost like it was the first time she had ever heard the word “died” before. She pouted out her lip and threw that freckled face skyward before picking herself up off the ground and bounding away elsewhere. Then tripped on the heel of her shoes and sent her white and red checkered dress sailing over her head… I roared with laughter, thinking the whole thing was truly comedic. But one girl didn’t, one damn annoying girl.

“Why would you think such a mean thing, Andreas?”
I looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Not many people bothered to question my judgment, and most of those that did I ignored or yelled at. But I found her voice notably irritating and could not help but turn my eyes in her direction, no ignoring today. My nose wrinkled in a haughty manner and I shoved out my bottom lip at her, “Oh yeah?”

She retorted, “You don’t think she could have just gone home for another bowl?”

I was ready for that. “No.” Such a strong argument, “Because Miss Muffet was a big baby. If she kept gettin’ scared by spiders she’d never eat a thing! She’d always throw away her food just for a silly spider.”

She gave me a knowing smile. That frustrated me. I crossed my arms tight to protect myself from that annoying smile, knowing an equally aggravating voice would soon follow. “Is it always bad to throw away the things we need when we’re scared?”

It wasn’t long after she said that, that I was wondering what in the hell she was talking about. Of course it was bad to give up everything when you’re scared, no exceptions! But I couldn’t voice that. She kept staring at me with that damn annoying smile of hers with that damn annoying voice and that damn annoying face and it just made my blood boil. I didn’t take too kindly to the idea of her winning, that idea was just too damn annoying.

I snorted. Threw up my arms and jumped to my feet. Stamped the couple steps up to her and pushed that damn annoying face right into the dirt. Stamped around and yelled, “Who asked you? Why don’t you just leave me alone!” Repeated and barked those words like an annoying puppy, “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave. Me. Alone!” I had managed to kick up so much dirt with my stamping that little dust particles were swirling around my gray and black sneakers.

She lifted her face from the grime. I half-expected tears but there wasn’t any. Only the face of a rather perturbed five-year-old girl, face just as aggravating as it had been even before it had hit the dirt. I scowled at her. She looked at me dazed for a moment, shocked at me, then smiled. Smiled very sadly.

My scowl deepened. My arms crossed protectively around my chest once more as she spoke again.
“How could someone with eyes so happy be so mean?”

I don’t remember much more after that. I did not know her. Didn’t even remember her too much… I had deemed her less than my five-year-old concerns and it was all as simple as that. Yeah, don’t even begin to assume I was playing hard to get. I really just had little interest in her. I’m a guy. We tend to lack depth.

By the time she was seventeen, that five-year-old annoying girl had become a full-grown desirable babe. You know all the clichés: hour-glass, coke bottle, the wavy thing people do with their hands. Hell she was all those and more! Curves upon curves, upon luscious curves! Mountains and plains of luscious moon-glow skin and silky waves of stormy black hair rippling like a typhoon down her back. Those piercing brown eyes, pouted lips. Let her lay one of those slim fingers on that plump and rosy lip and you wouldn’t know if you should be more distracted by the pure delicacy of her hands, wrists, and entire frame or the unadulterated perfection that was her moon-shaped face and sultry expressions. She was captivating.

I myself was nothing like that. Though I was no longer the crooked-teeth, baby-faced five year old I was still awkward. I was long and gangly with even longer limp black hair and a sort of gap where my old baby teeth used to be. I’m not saying I was the Frog Prince or anything, I’m just saying I wasn’t anything close to dashing. I was awkward, but I was as quick and opinionated as always. I was a hormonal seventeen-year-old and aside from my confidence I was about as special as everyone else in my school. That’s a fact a lover can’t ignore.

Still, like everyone else I became interested in Selene. Like every girl in the school, I watched and admired Selene. Like every boy that wasn’t completely gay, I became attracted to Selene. Yearned for Selene. Wanted her in the hot lust kind of way you find yourself waking in a fluster over the next day. She was my celebrity, the Pamela-Carmen mix in your bed kind, but Selene was just a little closer. As far away as a couple desks and I still could not reach out and touch her. When she wasn’t swamped by every human being at school she was mentally away from the entire world. It annoyed me.

Ok, I’ll be honest. I just wanted to have sex with her. It was basically the goal of every male soul at the whole damn high school. You can’t hold that against me; I didn’t even know the girl to say I loved her. But it was like she had some sort of impenetrable barrier around her and no one could crack it. And you can’t say that no one tried either. I’m sure a couple hundred guys at that school attempted to make a move at her and got immediately shut down. So I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t bother making any moves on her to make myself look like a damn fool. I just watched her from my desk, wanted her…

Dear Zeus, she was beautiful.

October 17th, a few months after my 18th birthday, my Yaya passed away. She had taken a bad fall down her foyer stairs, resulting in complete hospitalization for the following few days. Perhaps three days after the accident a stroke had become her dreadful demise. It goes without saying that it was rough for everyone; she was a wonderful woman. I would miss her warm eyes so full of pride, and I think that’s what hurt the most. Hurt like ripping my heart in two every time anyone said my name: my Yaya’s name for me. Very often I would end up remembering the small things, her voice, her laugh, the smell she would bring in the room that I often took for granted.

All of it was now gone and I was getting to the point where I was willing to hop the coffin to get it back.

Even after the funeral was long over the stress was killing me. I had to take a break.

“Where are you going, Andreas?”
“For a walk, mom. Be right back.”

I didn’t give her time to say anything else. Just shut the door behind me and started to jog away into the inky black street. I needed a place to clear my head desperately and any place was starting to look better than home. But I was starting to realize that once I was out on the street that not just any place would do. I wanted some place where I could think alone. Some place where I could feel closer to my Yaya, just me and her.

The stop sign loomed up ahead and I took a sharp left, making a short cut through a less familiar neighbor’s yard. I headed in through the woods, brushing back branches as I trekked. Crickets chirped and soggy sticks cracked under the weight of my heavy foot. Everything around me was dark and smelled of damp desolation. The only comfort to me was the slivers of moonlight peeking in through the overhead boughs.

A few minutes later the tree passage came to an abrupt stop, revealing a muddy plain dug away by construction. I at first thought a small dam or something was supposed to go here as assembly on a huge concrete wall had already begun. Everything was quiet. Even the crickets seemed far behind me now. I scaled up the long slope of dirt to the concrete wall, noticed a few steps being carved into it and immediately threw out my prior idea. I headed towards them. I didn’t notice her until I threw a lanky leg over one of those stairs and nearly kicked her with it.

“s**t.” I scowled, snapped my leg back like rubber and stood there, “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

She looked at me. I blinked down at her for a few seconds. Then I kinda groaned…
“Selene? What are you doing here?”
She smiled up at me, “I could ask you the same Andreas. Take a seat.”

I hesitated. She was the kind of girl that looked amazing even in the moonlight, if not better. A small lump lodged itself into my throat as I could feel the blood get set on the burner underneath my skin. My flesh tingled; every single hair in my body felt alive and was acting like it was snaking to feel her skin against mine. I shook, shivered like I was cold, and then plopped down rather roughly beside her. Grunted at my own foolishness and embarrassment at more than just the drop and then glanced over in her direction.

Too fast. Her eyes were on mine like hot glue; I had never seen her face so close before. I almost couldn’t breathe. When I had come here I intended to be here alone, to think about my Yaya, and not let anything bother me for a while. I had not planned to be stared in the face by some ultimate babe, get my urges all stirred, and have me thinking about sex faster than a NASCAR driver on speed. That was just not in the schedule.

“I’m sorry about your grandmother.” She started again. I couldn’t remember if I told anyone about that or not.
“Thanks.”
“I’m sure you two were close.”
“We were.”
“She really looks out for you.”
“She did.”
“She does.”
“What?”

She didn’t say anything. The conversation just fell. Eventually to take my mind off of Selene I ended up leaning back and looking up at the sky. The moon was only half-way full so the stars were what really held my interest. For a moment or two, then I decided it was only polite to attempt to start a talk between us again.

“So why are you here?”

She smiled again. She had been looking up at the stars too and those smoky brown eyes of hers never wavered as she spoke. I swallowed roughly. “Trying to get closer to the heavens.”

I ended that night so sexually frustrated I was hugging my pillow like it was a woman when I woke up the next day. I went back a couple nights later out of pure curiosity and was only half-way surprised to see her there. Eventually it began to click to me that maybe that was how I could see her more often, maybe get a little closer to her. At school she was still just as different but here it was something more intimate. I could just imagine raking my fingers all across her beautiful porcelain skin we were so close there. I got such a rush from it that eventually I was going to see her every weeknight, forgetting the stars, and only staring at her. My lust grew.

We talked. Talked quite a bit, though she was always an odd talker. Sometimes I ended up forgetting she was talking because I was too busy staring at the way her mouth sort of bent at the corner when she was trying to pick out the right word to say. I imagined me kissing her. But she would always end up laughing at me when she realized I was gawking at her, I’d feel a little embarrassed, and then we’d talk some more until something else about her distracted me.

I remember one visit in particular. It had rained for a week straight and I was antsy to see her again. Dreams had been keeping me tossing and turning about what I would do the next time I saw her: grab her beautiful face and plant kisses on it, show her how much I was attracted to her. Dear Zeus, she was as beautiful as Aphrodite herself. That night I dashed out of my house, straight through the woods to see her. I stopped dead once I broke through the trees.

She was there, but she was standing this time. Though she was not completely facing me I could see from the angle of her face that she was crying. I sighed. I had the likely mind to turn around, especially because I noticed she was slightly less attractive as the puffy-eyed sobby teenager, but she had already caught sight of me and guilt kept me moving towards her. Damn, what happened to beautiful and mysteriously smiley Selene? What was this?

“What’s wrong?” I sighed, stepping up beside her and looking with a wrinkled nose into her face. She looked dreadful. I really wished to go home now.

“I won’t be here too much longer.” She muttered, moving a hand to wipe at her nose, “I’m turning 18 soon.”
“Yeah so?”
She looked at me, “How could eyes so smart belong to someone so naïve?”
I only blinked at her. What the hell did that mean, and where had I heard it before?
“I have always loved your eyes.” She continued.

And then she smiled. It annoyed me, mostly because I had no damn idea what she was smiling about. Then it sort of clicked that she was the girl I ended up shoving way back when I was five and at that moment I felt lower than s**t. But I didn’t say anything, figured that was something you left buried in the past. What we had to focus on was what we had going on right now.

I muttered, “So what’s your point, Selene?”
“I love you, Andreas. I love what I see in your eyes. But three days from now I’ll be nothing more than a fathom of your own dreams and that means my love is meaningless.”

Love? She loved me? I was shocked. Surprised. Flustered. What did she expect me to say to that? I loved her too? Truth be told, I was just wondering if that meant we could like… make-out or something but she seemed so crushed I felt like a complete a*****e for even thinking that. But the smile had brought back a general amount of her attractiveness and I was getting a slight bit more excited than I had been before. I swallowed that down, tried to look past her beauty and tried to focus on her words. She had, after all, just confessed right?

“Where are you going?”
I think she was avoiding giving me a straight answer to that.
“You know, Andreas, people look far beyond the stars to see heaven when really Mount Olympus is no more far away than the Moon. As close as the heart when you close you eyes.”

She lost me. That had not a damn thing to do with where she was going. I was starting to get frustrated and was about two seconds away from shaking the hell out of her when she started talking again.
“Your grandmother is a wonderful woman.”
“Was.”

She reached over and kissed me. My emotion surged. I felt myself gasp but I only managed to breathe in her passion as it burned from the tips of my lips to my own nerves. Buzzed my brain like setting fire and curled like white hot wisps of burning wood through finger tips to toe tips. Had my heart beating so fast and my blood churning so hot in my face I thought I was becoming more than liquid flame, molten lava under the pressure of her pouted lips. Then she pulled away, whispering, “I think your eyes are speaking to me.” She walked away. She left me floundering.

By the time I made it home, I was wondering if it was possible that maybe I loved her too?

I fell asleep.

The dream I had was weird that night. It was dark, the entire world except for this little beam of light far away from me. I ran for it, barely making out a figure in the light. I ran faster, trying to figure out what it was and began making out a figure that was sort of like Selene. But she was sad, dreadfully sad, and she was covered in gowns I had never seen the likes of in my entire life. Silken gold with lacy ruffles that spindled out around her legs like a spider’s web. And the light…. The light seemed to be coming from her.

I reached out to grab her, tried to catch a bit of the light that was radiating from her moon-glow skin but the farther I grabbed out the farther away she seemed to go. She turned around, her body seeming to float upwards and I could see her lunar face so full of tears smiling down at me. She reached down, her fingers stretching to catch my own. I jumped, felt a quick brush of her fingers and felt a warm glow begin to sweep my body up. She grinned down at me.

I grabbed tight to her finger, could feel her warmth, and just as I did the world went completely dark. I woke up screaming, pleading, “Come back to me!” The flickers of the dream faded away.

I lied there. Every part of my body was limp as if being weighed down by a tow truck. My forehead glistened with the shades of dewy sweat that I had accumulated in my fitful sleep, and my sheets were stained and clinging like socks to static. I groaned, moved my hand to wipe my brow and dropped it. Felt something solid underneath my hand.

Looked down. “…Yaya?”

Yeah, it was her. I honestly don’t even want to try explaining how my heart nearly pounded its way out of my chest and took a one-way trip to Hawaii. Can’t even begin to explain how mortified I was, enough to make me just about piss my self and freeze in my sheets. Cold sweat broke out all over so the heat that I was feeling just a second ago was like a past desert breeze. This was real deal terrified, too choked up to even scream.

I know it makes little sense to be that scared to me now, I mean she’s my Yaya, but I guess it was the whole “you’re dead” thing that really had me going. And I made sure she knew that too, coming out with, “Yaya, you’re dead!” as the best way to put it to her gently. I realize now that I’m too straight-minded to be very compassionate in any of those situations.

“Are you afraid?”
“Yes.”

It seemed like a pretty obvious answer to me. I mean, my dead grandmother was in my room, on my bed. Last I checked I had buried her. As much as I loved the woman, I desperately thought it a bit disturbing she had to be with me when she wasn’t.

“Why is that? When I have been with you so long why do you fear me now?”
“You’re dead, Yaya.”
“I’ve been dead, Andreas. But I’ve still been with you.”
“Well I know that, but, it’s a little different when I can see you.”

She laughed. Man, it was amazing to hear that laugh again. So distinct, sort of like the sound you got when you gave a toddler a puppy and they squeezed it a bit too hard. Very high like a yelp, but she let it flow in a steady stream so that her laugh was always enough to bring a smile to my face. It grew then. I knew she was my Yaya.

“Yaya, what are you doing here?”
“Guiding you. Dead or alive, I’m still your grandmother.”
“Guiding me where, Yaya? I don’t exactly need guidance right now.”
“Oh, but don’t you? Don’t you feel helpless, lost, dejected? Confused? Don’t you feel that churning in your soul like you're lost at sea without so much as even Poseidon to guide you?”
“Yaya, this isn’t a mythology lesson… Especially not at,” my eyes shifted to the clock, “four in the morning.”

She laughed again.
“Well, regardless I still think you should learn something, right? So ask me something.”
“Yaya, why are you here?”
“Bestowing you with wisdom. Come on, I know you can ask something smarter than that. You come from my genes, somewhere down the line.”
“Well, how about this. What’s it like on the other side?”
“You can do better than that.”
“Yaya, I really have no idea what you’re—“
“She could get it out of you.”

I paused. My mind went racing so fast you could almost hear the gears spin. I think my Yaya could hear them too because her shadowy eyes held a sort of amused glint in them as her eyebrows lifted suggestively.

“Yaya, why now? Because—because Selene is leaving?”
“No, because I heard you crying for me, Andreas. Crying to someone to guide you, give you answers. Your heart was screaming so loud I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
“But my heart hasn’t been doing anything other than the usual beating, Yaya. I mean… I don’t understand.”
“Just now, from your dreams you woke up screaming aloud. Your heart was pleading out miraculously to me. Calling out a prayer from your secret goddess, her hopes and pleads to Zeus like you could hear her thoughts."
“Hear whose thoughts?”
“Selene’s pretty, don’t you think?”
“Yaya, slow down and take one step at a time. How did we go from a goddess to Selene? Is Selene supposed to be my goddess? Are you trying to tell me she’s a goddess, Yaya?”

I was starting to sound a little incredulous now. I mean come on, Selene is a goddess? But then again, I was starting to question myself for thinking my dead grandmother was saying crazy things.

“Well no.”
“So what are you saying, Yaya?”
“Well on a technicality she’s a demi-goddess.”
“A what?”
“Demi-Goddess. Y’know, like Hercules was a demi-god? She was the daughter of Aphrodite and a human. It’s why she’s so pretty.”
“Yaya, I think that’s called good genes. Now you’re spitting out madness.”
“You’re telling a dead woman she’s crazy.”

Touché.

But for me to even acknowledge the possibility that she could be a demi-goddess? Could this be what the dreams had meant? Was I somehow connecting to Selene? Did my heart know her inner most thoughts? Was my heart screaming to me that she was praying for me to somehow come back to her? I would ask her, but it was a weekend and I had no idea where she lived. I would not see her again until Monday. My grandmother seemed to have read my mind.

“She’ll be gone by the time you go back to school.”

My lips narrowed into a tight line. “Yaya, where exactly is Selene going? I mean, let’s say she is what you say she is. Then what does this all mean and what does this have to do with me?”
“She’s going to Mount Olympus, Andreas. She was destined since birth to join her mother Aphrodite in the Heavens if she could lead a pure life. There is no going back for her now and you have to imagine that it’s a bit of a dream of hers. As for you, well, Andreas she loves you.”
“But she already knows it can’t work.”
“But do you want it to?”

I swallowed roughly. Ignored that question and crossed my arms as a blinding signal that I was not going to answer that question. It was impossible to be in love with her. I just thought she was beautiful, is all. Yaya smiled knowingly and continued.

“Well, what if I told you that Zeus would be willing to let you be with her on Mount Olympus? Forever, if you wanted it.”
“On what condition?”
This I could see perturbed her somewhat.
“You’ll have to give up the very thing she likes most about you.” Her frown deepened and the crow’s feet and wrinkles on her face furrowed deeply, “You’ll have to give him your eyes.”

Not only would I give up what she liked most about me, but I would be giving up my only way to see her as well. My eyes widened and my breath caught. I felt sick. What would it be like to be with Selene but never see her beautiful face? There certainly could not be any pleasure in that right? All of this, this whole situation, scared me. Yaya could tell that I was frightened.

“I know you’re scared, Andreas. Look, you have three days to decide. On the third day I’ll come back and ask you what it is you want. By then, you can make your decision. What I want you to ask yourself is, scared as you are, can you still give up what you need?”

I only stared at her. I barely noticed as she slowly dissipated away.

The next three days were as good as Hell. Here I was left wondering what I wanted and if all of this was even possible. Still, the fact was nagging that Selene was indeed leaving me. When I woke up the next day, the only thing convincing me that any of this was possible was the shadowy pressure I could still feel at the foot of my bed. Even that could have been just a mere fragment of my imagination.

Selene, a demi-goddess. Certainly she was capable of it. She was gorgeous, serene, very much the image you imagined any goddess to portray. A part of me ached to know that what I had befriended in Selene would be gone once she left, but could I really say I loved her enough to follow her? Yes, certainly she was beautiful but that didn’t make me love her. Not to mention that if I went through with it solely for her beauty that it would all be a waste and I would not be able see how beautiful she was anyway, my very eyes going into the sacrificial bowl to be handed over to Zeus. This was all starting to become very mystical indeed to me and I was beginning to grow concerned with my own mental health.

I was torn.

Selene. She loved me. She told me this herself. Yaya told me this. Yaya told me how much my “secret goddess” prayed for me. How I could feel her prayers… But could any of that mean a thing to me? Selene insistently told me how fond she was of my eyes. Would she still love me without them? It seemed as if she would, being the kind of genuine person she had portrayed herself over the short period of time I had befriended her. But could I love her without the eyes I so desperately needed?

There was no denying her beauty anymore, just like there was no denying my initial lust. Most of the time I had only gone to see her with the hopes of staring at her or catching a small glimpse of her own seductive mannerisms. Seldom had I gone in the hopes that I could confess something or be stirred by her words. Though the tidbits of information were attractive to me and I often appreciated and listened to most of them, the question still loomed if her appearance was more important to me than that?

I knew that the just and morally acceptable thing to do was take the girl for more than her appearance. But think of it realistically. The only initial interest I even had in Selene in the first place was her looks. Personally, I found her dull at first. Dull or annoying… I did not know her. In school, she was nothing. The only time I even had a hint as to her personality was the weeknights I spent with her at that construction site. And though I enjoyed those conversations, did they really mean more to me than the way she looked? The thing that brought me to her in the first place? The thing that would mean nothing without my eyes? Forever if I wanted it?

Did I lust her or had time given me room to love her?

I was dying. I could feel it. I had never been so unsure of any answer in my life so that I barely ate, barely slept, and barely even so much as lived for the next three days. And when that leering day ripped its way into the sky my stomach churned like it was bubbling fire the entire twenty-four hours. My heart was lurching and wrenching in its resting place as I fretted constantly over what I would say. I was terrified. I was shaking with fear. I needed my eyes.

Could I give them up?
“Will you give them up?”

My Yaya was solemn, graver than I had ever seen her in my entire life. My heart was pounding deafeningly loud in my ears now. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even feel I was so numb. My eyes were tearing up as I knew the answer deep in my heart and I knew it was not a wholly satisfying one. Wanted to make sure I was completely positive but my heart told me I was. There was no getting over the fact that Selene was beautiful. That perhaps her beauty was the thing I loved most about her. It was also a fact that I needed my eyes to see her beautiful face.

But as I said, it is a lover’s job to ignore the facts and trust all intuition. For as beautiful as Selene was, there was a beauty inside her that I did not need my eyes to see. Just as scared as I was, I realized that it was not always bad to give up the things we needed despite our fear. Sometimes, it made way for better things.

“Yes.”

I’m blind, but I know Selene is beautiful even without my eyes. I cannot see heaven, but I do not need to. I can imagine it. Just as clearly as I can imagine Selene’s smile, or her glow, or the very small expressions she made that I spent so many nights studying. I’m no longer afraid and no longer need my eyes to see her beauty. I think my eyes have learned to see even without me. Now I believe Miss Muffet found an even better meal after that spider scared her, and if she died it was only because she knew something better was on the other side. I love my secret goddess. The facts say she’s a demi-goddess, but as a lover I know she’s my beautiful Aphrodite.

I often hear her prayers in my heart. I know she wishes for me to see her again. But what she doesn’t know is that I see her more clearly now than I have ever seen her before. She has never been more beautiful. So I think it’s safe to say that for now, we are both living happily ever after.

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