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“I missed you so much,” a soft voice said. Odysseus opened his eyes. There was Penelope--his Penelope, seated on the bed next to him.
“I’d go to the ends of the earth to find you,” he whispered. She moved over to him with a smile on her face and ran her fingers across his cheekbone. “I love you.” Penelope leaned down and pressed her lips against his.
Odysseus opened his eyes. It wasn’t a dream. Well, some of it, anyways. He felt lips moving against his own. He reached up and found her shoulders, gently pushing her away.
“What are you doing?” he murmured.
“What do you think?” Calypso asked, leaning back down. She ran her hand across his bare chest, tracing the contour of his collar bone, his shoulder. Her touch was a welcoming fire against his skin. She captured his lips in another kiss, and when she pulled away he almost followed her upwards.
She laughed, a low musical sound that was nearly hypnotic. She shifted and Odysseus became very aware of her position, straddling his thigh, just shy of contact. He tried to shift away from her, to get out, but she pushed him back down to the mattress. “I don’t think so,” she said, laughing again. Her kisses traced his jawline, then moved to his neck.
“Stop. I don’t want this.”
Calypso smiled. “Oh Odysseus,” she said, drawing out his name in a way that felt wrong to his ears. “No man has caught my eye for a long time. Just let me take care of you.”
“No.” Odysseus sat up, forcing Calypso off of him. “Throw me out or leave me alone. I don’t want you.”
“Fine,” Calypso said, standing from the bed. Without another word, she left the room.
Odysseus walked through a field. Ahead of him was a woman, silhouetted by the rising sun. Penelope. He ran to meet her, his sandaled feet thumping against the soft earth. He was almost there. So close to home. He called out to her, to tell her he was coming.
Penelope turned. She was just as he remembered. Her hair, her face, her frame. Though she’d aged along with him, she was just as beautiful to him as the day they’d met.
She fixed him with her gaze, her eyes full of reproach. “You left.”
Odysseus stopped. “I never wanted to leave. And I’m here now, I came back!”
“And what did you find on your way back?” she snapped. “I know what you did with those other women.” Penelope turned away even as Odysseus fell to his knees before her. “You might as well have stayed gone.” Her words were a dagger in her husband’s heart.
Odysseus woke, and once again Calypso was there. She lay propped on the pillow beside him, watching him as he slept.
“That wasn’t a good dream,” she said simply.
“No,” he agreed.
“Let me fix it.” She moved to close the gap between them.
Odysseus sat up and turned his back to her. “You can’t change any of this, Calypso.”
“You don’t know what I can do.”
Odysseus felt her hand on his shoulder, and he let her pull him closer to her. He closed his eyes and imagined that it was his wife who kissed him, caressed him, held him.
“Look what you’ve done!” Penelope screamed. Tears streamed from her eyes and without giving Odysseus a chance to speak, she stormed away and slammed the door to their house.
Odysseus looked down at his hands.
Telemachus rounded the corner, Argus at his heels. Odysseus broke into tears at the sight of the boy. “Come here, kid! I missed you so much!” he called, stretching his arms out towards his son.
Telemachus halted and shook his head. “My dad abandoned us.”
“I didn’t! I’m right here!” Odysseus protested.
“I think you should leave my mom alone. She’s better off without you,” the boy said, fixing Odysseus with an angry gaze so like his own. So like his mother’s. “Come on, Argus, let’s go.” Telemachus retreated, yet it wasn’t a retreat. He held his head high, his posture making it clear that the conversation was over. Anger at his words and pride in his son fought for dominance within Odysseus’ soul.
His thoughts were interrupted by a whining cry from Argus. The dog looked up at Odysseus with big, sad eyes.
“Go on, follow your boy. Keep an eye on him for me, will you?”
Argus gave him a last sad look, then trotted off after Telemachus.
Odysseus looked up. Through a gap in the curtains in one of the windows--his bedroom window--he saw the shade of her figure. He gave her a sad smile and blew her a kiss. The curtains were drawn tight.
Penelope didn’t see Odysseus walk away.