The Cow of Fertility
Part Two
It all made sense now.
Why I'd been so moody with Amon the last few days. So grumpy. I jammed my knife into the date loaf, hacking the tail off the crocodile-shaped dessert. The elderly soul watched me with an amused smile.
'Yeah, yeah. I know.' I picked it up and took a bite, chewing angrily. 'I shouldn't eat so much.'
She nodded her head and wrapped a cloth over the cake as though locking it away from me. I stomped over to a small cushioned couch and pushed my butt in between a pair of souls who hadn't left me alone since they washed my hair in the pool three days ago. Honestly, they were nice, but they were starting to get on my last nerve. Or maybe that was the hormones.
'You know, we're allowed to eat as much as we want where I come from.' I looked at the women next to me as I took another big bite, talking around it as I continued. 'Even more so if it's that time of the month.'
The women said nothing in reply, as usual, and I groaned loudly. I was sick of talking to myself. I'd seen Hathor a couple of times since I'd been here and she was always chatty, but she was also a goddess who apparently had things to do. How she had more to do than Amon—the literal King—I had no idea. Maybe she was lying to get away from me.
I swallowed, feeling a chunk of the dry date loaf stick in my throat. I just wanted the food Amon made me. For whatever unknown reason his food tasted better. Like those tiger nut balls. I'm sure Hathor would make them for me if I asked, or even the elderly soul, but I didn't. I'd wait for Amon to create them again.
'Where is Hathor? Is she back?' I asked the elderly soul as the two next to me began touching my hair again. I swatted their cold hands away for the hundredth time.
The elderly soul nodded her head and gestured for me to follow her. I did so quickly, running away from the souls that had become like sticky flies. I didn't even know why they liked me so much—or my hair—I just knew I had to get away. The only one I liked touching my hair was Amon. I swallowed the last bite of date loaf dryly, realising what I'd just thought.
Honestly, I'm twenty-five. I need to get my shit together and stop acting like a little girl with a crush. I'm old. I'm smart. I'm not falling in love with a god. And that's it—there's nothing to think about. Re gave me a warning I didn't even need because it's not going to happen.
Amon is a literal god. He's lived for who knows how long. He creates from nothing. Hell, he doesn't even leave his realm. I mean, he has a realm! Who has something like that? Jesus, the guy has two. He's a king. He's...just not...human. I can't. He can't. I won't. I coughed loudly, hitting my fist on my chest as a lump of loaf caught in it again. Tears welled in my eyes and suddenly a smooth ceramic cup filled with cool water appeared before me.
I startled, jumping back slightly as Hathor revealed from thin air. Her afro was gone—shaved off completely to reveal a smooth golden scalp. She smiled and grabbed my hand, placing the cup in it as I struggled to breathe. I took a deep gulp and gasped for air once the lump dropped to my stomach.
'Thanks.' My voice was husky, dry. I coughed again. 'I was just looking for you.'
'I know.'
Hathor touched the elderly woman's hand and thanked her. The soul bowed and hobbled off, finally leaving me to myself. I liked her, but she was a lot to have following around. Especially when she doesn't even speak. Actually, I think I was just prejudiced against souls—I didn't really like them. I felt weird being near them. I felt weird when they touched me. I felt weird just seeing their ephemeral forms.
'You wanted me?' Hathor began walking down the hallway, past my bed and toward her chambers.
I'd been inside only once. It was oddly similar to the rest of the place. I don't know, for some reason I thought gods and goddesses would be more...extravagant? Like royalty, I thought they'd live a different life to those around them. A better life. Don't get me wrong, it's not like they're living in poverty. Although Amon was somehow toeing the line where he lived a nice, relaxing life, but had the bare minimum in terms of luxuries.
I followed Hathor into her chambers, slinking between the white linen embroidered with a large cow-like symbol I recognised from my textbooks. It was her symbol, but not one that was used often in the human realm. We only saw it a few times in history before the humans upgraded her to a more realistic cow head. It seems she liked the former version.
'Yeah.' I stopped at the end of her bed as Hathor threw herself across it in an oddly ungraceful action. 'I just needed a break. From the souls, I mean.'
Hathor hummed and I shuffled awkwardly before deciding I'd perch on the end of her mattress.
Her bed sat in the middle of the room on a round floor elevated up a small flight of five steps. The soft, round mattress and large pillows reminded me of the day bed Amon had created for me back in his realm. I ran my hand across the soft sheet and thought about our last moment there together. When he'd touched my hair. When I'd closed my eyes. How close he had been. How warm he'd felt.
'What are you thinking about?'
I looked at Hathor, who was now standing at her bedside table with a small mirror in her hand. It was an old mirror, made from flattened silver. It distorted her reflection, but I could still see the small smirk gracing her plump lips.
'What? Nothing.' Her smirk grew. 'Nothing, seriously. Just wondering how long I'll be here.'
'Is there something wrong with my realm?' Hathor ran a hand over her bald head and placed the mirror down, spinning to gaze at me. 'Or is there something wrong with you?'
God, you could say that again. There was definitely something wrong with me. Very, very wrong. I suddenly wanted to shave my head because she looked so damn good without hair. I let out a sigh. Maybe that was me avoiding my problems.
'Maybe.'
'Maybe something is wrong with my realm? Or maybe something is wrong with you?'
She sat next to me and folded her arms across her lap lazily, but her eyes burned with an intensity that showed me just how interested she was to hear what I had to say.
'Maybe something's wrong with me,' I muttered, closing my eyes and flopping back on her bed. I stayed silent for a moment before hooking my good arm around a pillow and anchoring it to my chest, curling on my side into a foetal position. 'I don't know.'
'What's wrong?'
'Everything!' I exclaimed, feeling tears well in my eyes. 'Nothing! It's probably just hormones.'
'You can't blame everything on hormones.'
'Yes, I can. And I will.' I jutted my chin out defiantly but the tear that welled from my eye and down my cheek told a different story. I sniffled lightly. 'Well, it's not just hormones.'
'You can tell me, Etta. Have you seen all those souls out there? I listened to every one of their stories—whatever you say isn't going to surprise me.'
I buried my head into the pillow and nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath.
'Me dold em at—'
'I can't understand you if you talk into the pillow, Etta.'
I poked my head out just enough to lightly uncover my lips, so the words didn't get lost in the fluff.
'Re told me that Amon would die if I fell in love with him.'
I watched Hathor's face closely, looking for any sign that what I'd been told was true...or not. She pursed her lips slightly and one of her eyes twitched but I didn't know what that meant. Was it good or bad?
'And? Why does that matter to you?'
'It doesn't.' I scoffed and looked away from her. She was silent. 'It shouldn't,' I said, softer, quieter.
'But it does.'
I nodded, even though it wasn't a question. Hathor let out a deep sigh.
'He's a god,' she said after a few moments. 'You're a human.'
'I know!' I whined, sitting up and punching the soft pillow. 'I know,' I said again, quieter, my voice barely a whisper.
We fell into silence and I thought about how stupid I was being. Maybe this was some sort of Stockholm Syndrome and I didn't really have growing affections for him. I mean, I was trapped by his side 24/7. Plus, he was a literal god. And he looked like one. I mean, Jesus, I could wash my clothes on his chest. He was good-looking, nice, fed me, healed me, kept me safe. And he was the only person I really spent time with. Of course, I started to like him. Anyone would—woman or man, I'm sure.
'Is it true, though?' I whispered, pulling on the material that strapped my injured arm to my chest.
'...Yes.' I frowned. 'In a sense.'
'What does that mean?'
'Well, Re wasn't wrong. Amon probably would die. But it's not what you think.'
I didn't want to look at Hathor. I felt like a little kid, getting told off for something I hadn't done yet. I wanted the answers, sure, but did I really? No. I wanted to live my life and go back to when things were simple. When I was Etta Mae, aspiring Egyptologist, whose biggest problem was Salma and her erratic behaviour. Now I'm Etta, the human, who's falling in love with a god and talking about it with a goddess.
'Can you explain it to me?'
'Think about it this way.'
Hathor picked up her mirror, showing it to me. I stared at my wonky reflection. I didn't look like me. I looked thicker in the face and my hair was fluffy, not flat like usual.
'This mirror is from around 400 B.C.' I nodded my head. She moved her other hand and in it was a new mirror, one that was clear. It highlighted what a mess I was in more detail. 'This mirror is from your current world.'
'Jeez.' I leant forward and looked at my darkening moustache hairs.
Hathor threw the mirror on the floor. I jumped in shock as it exploded into a hundred little pieces, shattering along the stone floor like sharp confetti. I lifted my feet up and looked at Hathor like she was crazy.
'That's you.' She pointed at the shattered glass.
Then she threw the other mirror on the floor, with more force than before. It hit the ground with a loud clang, chipping a piece of rock out of the ground. It bounced on each end, flipping around until it rattled to a stop, completely whole but a little bit dented.
'That's Amon.'
I gulped. 'What is that meant to mean? That he's stronger than me? I know that already.'
Hathor picked up the old mirror and looked at herself in it.
'It means that you're human. Fragile. Mortal.' She handed the mirror to me. 'Amon is not.'
I looked down at my reflection. It was imperfect and unclear, like the reflection I saw on Amon's pond. When I moved the mirror, I could imagine the distortions on its surface were ripples on water.
'Etta, have you ever lost someone in your life?' I shook my head. I'd lost my grandmother, but I didn't remember her much. I was too young. 'The pain of losing another is one most humans wouldn't wish on another.'
'Yeah, I suppose.' I gripped the mirror tighter in my hand.
'Can you imagine the pain of losing someone and still having eternity to live?'
Hathor watched me, her eyes burning into me until I shook my head. 'No,' I whispered.
'That is the pain awaiting Amon if you fall in love with him.'
'Not necessarily. You're acting as though my loving him automatically means he loves me. It doesn't.'
Hathor sighed and walked forward a step, placing her hands on my shoulders and leaning down to place her face in front of mine.
'Amon...' She trailed off for a moment. 'Well, either way, Etta. It doesn't matter. If you truly love someone you wouldn't want to condemn them to an eternity of missing you, would you?'
I shook my head and she let me go. She turned around and walked down the steps to the curtain that separated her room from the hallway. As she held the curtain open, her foot half out, she paused and turned back to look at me.
'He's already gone through that once.'
She left, leaving me sitting alone, holding a mirror that showed me just how ugly I looked when I cried.
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