All right, I'll admit it. I'm totally inconsistent. For a while, I'm just like "I don't want to write, these stories are boring." and then inspiration hits me like a tidal wave and I can't stop writing. It's crazy.
Review please!
VII.
She's been invited over to Percy's. Sally's, she reminds herself. He doesn't live there anymore.
When she gets the call, she says yes, because Sally is even worse off than she is, and the idea that anyone connected to her son is coming over warms the aging woman from the frigid cold that took over her body when he left.
The crackling voice on the other side of the phone told the teenager to "Just come as soon as possible."
Her initial instinct after she hangs up is not to go. She doesn't want to be in a place where you can still smell the salt that always settled on his skin. She doesn't want to go to where he lived. Salt water makes an open wound hurt more.
She knows that she has to though. Grover visited Sally over winter break, and he told her about the emptiness that was inside of a woman once filled with love. The visits from camp friends add about a tablespoon to the ton of happiness that once filled the woman's body.
Argus offers to drive her into the city by gesturing to one of the trucks, but she prefers to make the trip on her own. She walks to the closest bus stop, which lies about three miles away.
Seven months ago, she would've ran the whole way, making it in about 20 minutes, but her weakened state leaves her gasping for breath after the first half mile, and her legs give out after the second. She has to sit in the grass for fifteen minutes and recover, and by the time she reaches the stop, it's almost noon. She'd planned to get to Perc- Sally's by nine.
Once the bus finally comes to it's almost forgotten stop, drives along the bumpiest road known to man, drops her off and by the time she's walked all the way to the apartment, it's almost 2:15.
Paul buzzes her up, but she stops on the stairs to stare at the Sharpie line that Percy had pointed out.
"Look at this. I drew that when I was six. My mom hasn't let me near permanent markers since."
The voice sounds so real to her that she turns to look for him, but it's only her imagination, a ghost of someone she used to know.
She keeps walking.
Her bony knuckles pound on the scratched door. Right above the doorknob, the initials PJ have been carefully carved out, the angles sharp and angry.
"See that, Annabeth? When I was nine, I found a pocket knife on the ground, but there was nothing to do with it. I wanted to use the knife part, so I carved my initials into the door."
Her fingertips trail over the P.
The door opens, and Paul looks at her strangely. She doesn't remember there being that much grey in his hair.
He forces a smile, and tells her, "Sally's out right now. She'll be back in a bit. Come on in." He seems unhappy to see her, though she can't imagine why.
She walks over the doorstep, and her breath catches. She guessed correctly. It still smells like the ocean in here.
The apartment, once a safe haven where cookies were always baking, and baby stories were told, now seems to be more of a memorial service to a boy who left without saying goodbye. Pictures of him adorn the walls, crayon drawings from ten years ago still hang on the refrigerator, held up by magnets crudely decorated with clay.
He was never known for his art skills.
The smell of cookies has long since faded from the warm home. She guesses that Sally hasn't even touched the baking ingredients since he vanished.
She finds herself in the hallway, wandering down the hall of pictures. Captions are scrawled in the corners of most of them.
Percy's first birthday. A smashed cupcake and a boy who looks rather surprised.
Percy's first day of school. A boy with slicked back hair and a button down shirt stands in front of an old lady, who must be his teacher.
She's surprised to see herself in one of the pictures. She knew that Sally cared for her, but not enough to gain a place of honor in the Percy hall of fame.
Then she notices the bent nail that the frame hangs crookedly from. Sally didn't put it there, along with all the straight, perfect pictures.
He did.
She stays there for quite some time, not wanting to face Paul.
The door bangs open, and a winded Sally enters. She can feel the shudder throughout the whole building.
"Annabeth?" She calls.
The shrunken girl races out of the hallway, coming face to face with the rapidly aging woman.
"Is that you, beautiful? You're getting so tall!" The younger of the pair smiles, "Oh my, are you seventeen already? Gosh, I'm getting old. Before you know it, my hair is going to match those pretty eyes of yours."
Is she really seventeen? She realizes that her birthday was in February. She had no idea. It had passed without her even noticing,
She notices the wrinkles in Sally's forehead. They seem deeper than the last time. She can tell that as happy as the woman might act, her eyes still can't mask the sadness that she feels.
"Come to the kitchen with me. I have something to show you."
She drags her feet, but goes anyways, following the sound of the creaky floorboards wherever Sally steps.
Sally leads her over to the phone. It's an old one, still attached to the wall, but Sally seems to know how to work it. She punches in a bunch of numbers, listens to an automated voice, and wraps her long fingers around the young girl's tiny wrist.
"Listen." There's something in Sally's voice, something that sounds like such unbelievable, uncontrollable joy, that it shocks her out of her stupor for a moment, and she holds fast to reality as a buzzy message plays out of the dusty speaker.
"Mom. Hey, I'm alive. Hera put me to sleep for a while, and then she took my memory and... Anyway, I'm on a quest- I'll make it home. I promise. Love you."
Beep.
It's choppy and bad quality, and he obviously had no idea what to say, but it was him. It was real.
They play it back about six more times, and the tears spill right over the lump in her throat.
Sally takes both of her hands in her own and looks her straight in the eyes, blue to grey.
"He's going to come home."
And then they're both laughing, and dancing around the kitchen to the sound of Percy's voice, because he's alive and he remembers and he called.
And so when Sally pulls her into a hug, she melts into the arms that encase her, and feels the touch of another human for the first time in half a year. She lets the pleasure of the moment take over her wrecked body, and lets herself be loved.
"He's coming home, honey. He's coming home."
Aw, so cute. I think I might have cried at that part in the Son of Neptune. Seriously. Review please!
~PurpleShadowMonster