She was fighting back a sob that crept at her throat, eyes still trained on her hands. Her chest already shook with rapid breaths. Penelope shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Odysseus, I-” Her voice broke, breath hitched.
She felt his hand on her cheek, the warmth that radiated off of him enveloping her in an instant. She wanted to fold into his arms, to hide away from the world and take shelter in him.
But he was leaving, and he was taking that sanctuary with him. He brushed a loose tear off of her cheek with his thumb, framing her face with his other hand. “Penelope,” gently, so gently, he turned her face, forcing her to meet his gaze.
And she broke.
Tears broke free, the sobs that she had been suppressing fought for the light of day. Her entire body was wracked with emotions she had never had to name until this very moment. “I can’t… I can’t-” She tried to speak, but her heart was in her throat.
Odysseus pulled her closer, pressing her forehead against hers. “I know, I’m so sorry.” He was crying too. He could feel it in the way his hands trembled against her skin, in the way his breath came just a little too quick.
“Tell me,” she gasped, trying to finish her thought. “Tell me how to do this,” she pleaded, fingers finding purchase in his tunic. “Tell me how to say goodbye to you.”
One of his hands left her cheek, opting instead to tangle in her curls, holding her against him. “I don’t know, heart. I don’t know.”
“What if I lose you?” She breathed, airing her deepest fear into the ocean breeze around them. “What if you don’t come home?” Her knees were weak, her body shook beneath his touch.
For all her stoicism and the strength she had tried to convey moments ago, she was lost in her grief now. Without his steadying touch, without the rise and fall of his chest, without his hands on her skin, she would float away.
“Penelope,” he muttered, fingers gripping her just a little tighter. “You could never lose me. I will come home to you, no matter how long it takes.”
She couldn’t answer. Her voice was gone with the winds. And he just held her, arms wrapping around her, securing her against him. They fit together like two halves of a whole… How was she supposed to live without him?
“Odysseus,” she whispered, face pressed into his tunic, stained with their shared sorrow. “Don’t go. Please, please just stay.”
“Oh, my heart.” She could barely hear his words over the pounding of her own heart, over the way her body was wracked with heartache. She hiccuped as he pulled back, holding her chin delicately between his fingers. “What I wouldn’t give…” he pressed his lips gently to hers.
Penelope let another whimper escape, tears falling harder as he kissed her. Her fingers clutched at him, as if she could keep him here with her touch alone.
He tasted like salt.
“Odysseus.” She breathed against his lips, his name faltering in her throat. “I love you, Odysseus.”
“Be good, wife. I leave my heart with you.”
63
THEY STOOD ON A PRECIPICE.
Odysseus, by the bed that would take him away from his family, by the tree where his life had truly begun, and would wretchedly end.
Penelope as her hand hovered over her son’s door, heart pounding in her chest.
“You can go to him, Mom.” His voice broke through the silence of his bedroom, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. She turned to face him, to face the man her son had become.
“What about you?” Her voice was quiet, hand still paused just in front of the door.
“I had you to myself for twenty years, Mom.” He tried to laugh, but the sound was strained. “I will miss you. I will wish you were here. It will be hard for me. There is no mistaking that. But I won’t be the reason you don’t go after him.”
“When did you grow up?” She turned to face her son, tears visible on her cheeks. “What a wonderful young man you are, my son.” She laid her hand on his cheek, trying her best to smile. “I am so proud of you.” Her voice faltered as she spoke.
Telemachus grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “I love you, Mom.” His own tears carved paths down his face. She pulledher son into an embrace, clinging to him in their last moment together.
“I’m sorry, my son. I-” She hiccuped, but she felt him shake his head.
“Don’t be sorry, Mother. If you could have sailed away with him to Troy all those years ago, I think you would have.” He pulled back, kissing his mother on the forehead. “You have shown me the most selfless love anyone could receive. Go, be selfish.”
With a final, lasting embrace, she pulled away. “Be good, my love.” She said with a watery laugh.
