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“That’s exactly the point, Aglaea.”
“No, the entire point is that his journey changed him into something he shouldn’t have become.”
Aglaea took a deep breath. She carefully measured each and every word that Anaxa spoke; they passed through her ears with ease, despite his tone having taken a rather sharp turn. It irked her, but it never infuriated her—not on these long walks to and from school.
“While that may be true, the easiest way for him to have solved his problems was through that same ruthlessness that he adopts in the climax. He was a fool have not killed the cyclops when he had the chance.”
“I would expect nothing less from Anaxagoras, the scholar, to deliver such a surface level take on Odysseus’ journey.”
The rhythmic tapping of Aglaea’s white cane blended with the clacking of shoes on pavement as both she and Anaxa trudged home. The air lightly brushed past her golden hair, and, despite the overwhelming sunset that lay ahead of her, her eyes remained relaxed and stared forward. Anaxa, her companion for these once silent walks, constantly butted heads with her. She could hardly recall a time when they hadn’t argued as they walked. Even still, a small smile appeared at the corners of her lips. She wondered what sort of expression Anaxa was making in this silence. Was he squinting at her? Was his brow scrunched and scowling as he grappled for a quick retort? Eventually, he found the perfect combination of words to fire back.
“Had he just killed the cyclops, Poseidon would have never held a grudge for so long! Besides, the men he killed deserved what was coming to them. They were going to kill Telemachus and Penelope!”
“I believe you’re drawing a parallel where there is none to be drawn. It was not his refusal to kill the cyclops, but his maiming of the creature that drew Poseidon’s ire. The suitors he killed were men trying to harm his family, so, yes, I believe it was self-defense.”
“I…”
“So, you concede?”
The rhythm of combined footsteps and cane clatters suddenly had a player missing. Aglaea stopped, noticing that Anaxa had stopped somewhere. Her heart pounded slightly faster—even though this happened every now and then, it was still something that never ceased to spike her anxiety. She turned her head, looking for the vague shape of Anaxa. He was standing only a few feet away, his teal-covered head facing her.
“Anaxa? Everything alright?”
His outline twitched. Like a startled animal. Anaxa spread his arms out confidently, doing that same pose that would never fail to get him picked on and hit. His voice reeked of forced confidence, as if he was forcing down another emotion. No matter how much he tried to hide it, Aglaea understood, if nothing else, his voice.
“My, my, Aglaea, it seems as though my words managed to make even your mind stumble!”
“Anaxagoras, what are you even talking about?”
Anaxa pointed to his right, at a house next to the sidewalk: Aglaea’s house.
“You passed your house. I almost failed to notice as well. Almost.”
Aglaea’s shock was most likely evident on her face, but she recovered quickly. She casually walked towards Anaxa, standing in front of him. This close, she could make out more of his features: an ever-present eyepatch, a smug, narcissistic grin, and fluffy, teal hair that blew gently in the autumn breeze. He thinks he’s won today’s match. Cute.
“How courteous of the scholar Anaxagoras to not only memorize which house I live in, but to ensure I get home safely? Quite charming, indeed.”
Aglaea saw Anaxa’s face redden in each passing moment. Her smile grew slightly larger, and she lightly tapped Anaxa’s leg with her cane. She saw his face shift, turn away, and mumble.
“Just go inside, woman.”
“It’s my win then? Hopefully you’ll put more effort in next time. I’ll see you tomorrow, hm?