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“Where are we? Where’s the throne?” I asked. Searching for Apollo. “Our friends are in danger. Zeus is attacking the palace.” She looked weak. Like a shade of my friend that I have long considered to be a sister.
Ari answers softly, “We’re between worlds. Caught for now but no worries. You’ll return soon. We don’t have much time.” She looks me up and is done. “I can see you're holding back something. Ask your question.”
“I have been doing a lot of thinking recently,” plucking a nearby red amaranth, I fidget with the stem of the plant.
“Always a dangerous pastime for you,” she quips. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Her voice croaks. Scratchy and echoing.
“I know,” I grin slightly before turning more serious.
“Seriously though, what’s going on?” My voice was frantic. Nothing was how it should be. Everything felt off.
Gripping my hand, she laces her cool fingers in mine. Ari watches me with curious eyes, “I have known you for years, Pandy. It has always been you, me and Prometheus against the world.”
Prometheus.
There that name comes up once more.
Though I didn’t expect it from her lips. Instead of questioning her, I wait for an explanation. One that I know is coming. An explanation that’s long overdue.
We aren’t related by blood, but we’re family. How we found each other, I don’t remember. No matter how much I want to. I want others to see her. Know Arista as I do.
When dad found out that I was speaking with Ari, he was scared. Terrified to have others find out. That’s when I knew, nobody else sees or hears her.
But Arista was no imaginary friend. She was rational and alive. Projecting life and words of hope in my hardest moments.
Arista wasn’t fake. She couldn’t be. too real for me to ever consider her something like that.
She isn’t a figment of my imagination.
But what’s she?
Grimly, I watch the ducks swimming in the pond. Casting ringlets out with each movement. “Why can’t anyone else see or hear you?” Turning toward her, I set my hands on my lap. Lacing them with the other.
Her hands feel so cold. Goosebumps prickle up my arms.
Ari slowly stands as her legs wobbly beneath her like blades straining to hold itself up in a gusting breeze. Extending a hand in my direction, she offers me her arm. “Help me garden while I explain.”
Slowly, I took my friend's hand. My hand falls through her grasp. Mournfully, she stares down at her hand. Eyes full of sadness, she slowly retracts her hand, placing it instead in the folds of her billowing skirts. Watching every little movement of hers, I try to understand what’s changed. Trying to find my answers in her unreadable form.
We start with a plot of daffodils, like the ones we’ve been growing in my garden. Sitting, we face each other. As I pull each tiny weed, I watch her. Her hands are to the dirt, but never does she pull anything out of the ground.
“Arista, answer my question,” I replied. A pleading tone is etched into my words. Everything feels overwhelming and I need some answers.
I need her answers.
Sitting cross legged, I watch her toy with her ginger locks. Bright green eyes watching me. Taking me in, “Daffodils haven’t grown since the disappearance of the spring almost entirely from this realm.”
“Yeah?” Increasingly, I grow more and more frustrated. “Would you pull that weed for me?” Gesturing to a weed near her.
“I wish I could,” she whispers. Her eyes locked on the patch of plants underneath her. “I miss the dirt.”
Arista looks from her hand to the weed then to me. Feeling my watchful eyes, her fingers grip the plant. I watch as they pass through.
“When Persephone left, much of the flora and fauna died with her absence.” Ari stares at her hand. She sighs, “Things like daffodils were some of the first to die off. Like they couldn’t bear being in a world that she wasn’t in.”
Reaching down, I began plucking the weeds. Piling the discarded clippings off to one side.
