Page 12 of Poseidon's Island Flower

“Like every day, twice a day, on the dot.” She smiled. “How was your outing this afternoon?”

I gave a tight-lipped smile. “Lovely.”

“Liar,” Zeus coughed. “Good attempt at sarcasm, though. He had a difficult time. The sun, the wind, the people staring. It was more than he could handle.”

I shuffled into my seat. “I think I handled it better than expected.”

“You used an entire bottle of hand sanitizer, asked how fresh the salmon was because it was bought on the Atlantic coast and not the Pacific,” Zeus deadpanned.

“They shouldn’t say it is fresh if it isn’t produced on this side of the world,” I stated simply.

Athena chuckled, clicking her pen, and writing notes. By the end of our sessions, I’m sure it would be as large as Beijing’s phone book.

“Do you want Zeus to be here?” Athena looked up through the rose-colored glasses she didn’t need.

Zeus took his seat in the opposite chair, the creaking of the wooden frame echoing in the room.

I’d let him come to these sessions since arriving on the island. Even if I did oppose Zeus’s help, some days he pointed out my social awkwardness, helping me understand social cues that I didn’t understand.

But he could be utterly annoying when I am trying to stick to a schedule. It was the only thing I could control with this ever-changing environment.

“Yes, he may stay, since we aren’t talking about him today,” I muttered.

“Hey!” Zeus sat up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Zeus, that’s enough,” Athena scolded. “This isn’t about you, and your session is later this evening. We will talk about your drinking problem later.” She pointed her pen at him.

Zeus rolled his eyes, swearing under his breath. His human façade faded, and he turned back into his godly form.

“Right, Poseidon. So, tell me about this outing and why it was ‘lovely.’”

We talked for thirty minutes as I recalled my steps. I didn’t leave anything out, I told her the exact order of events, exactly how many fries I ate, including the time it took to walk from the beach back to the room.

Zeus made a deep, rumbling snore in the corner, his body shaking with every exhale.

“Does this mean he finds me boring?” I asked.

Athena nodded. “Yes, he is trying to make a joke. Do you find it funny?”

“Do you find it funny?”

“Yes, it made me chuckle.” Athena smiled.

I narrowed my eyes at both of them.

Athena’s lip twitched. “He’s trying to make a joke. When I told you to tell me about your day, I intended for you to tell me what bothered you or what you found interesting or thought provoking, not to recount the exact steps.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” I slapped my hands on my legs. “You asked me to tell you about my day.” I gritted my teeth, leaning back into the sofa. “I’m here to find my mate. How is this going to help me? These sessions? I find them aggravating. I dislike speaking of my feelings.”

“I’m trying to get you to think, Poseidon. You’ve been alone for years. You are recounting your steps exactly because you are obsessing over what you have control over. If you did not count, plan each step, how would that make you feel?”

“Not in control! I dislike the feeling that I cannot control my surroundings. Counting, planning, it helps. I feel more stable this way.” I rubbed my hand down my face.

It didn’t used to be like this. I could function almost normally; it was just one encounter that made me crumble six months ago.

“Because, at one time, you couldn’t control your surroundings,” Zeus muttered.

I gritted my teeth.

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