Jake and Rachel dated. He introduced her to his Peanut and Sam, who made lewd jokes and gestures for ten minutes after she left. Once the previous semester had ended and Jake had left the dorms for his own apartment, Geir latched onto his new roommate, and Jake rarely saw him.
"So how much did you pay her to go out with you?" Peanut asked. His parents lived a mile from the university, and the three of them often wasted time in their basement den once they'd spent their last paychecks.
"Nah, Jake doesn't have enough money for a chick like that," Sam said, tapping his foot spastically and itching the back of his head. Sam's mother painted portraits of people holding vegetables for a living, and years of sitting next to open jars of paint and sucking on the brushless ends of brushes had damaged Sam. He always looked like someone who had a Starbuck's discount card.
Peanut kicked off his Payless shoes and grinned at Jake. "Does she know you've been stalking her?"
"I haven't���"
"There was a dry spot on the bench near the gym when I walked by there once last week because you were glued to it while it rained."
"You saw the bench without Jake on it? That's never happened to me. What was it like?" Sam said.
"Like the other benches, but creepier," Peanut said.
Sam laughed. "I bet she breaks up with him tomorrow. Over the phone."
"I'll take the bet," Peanut said. "I think she'll break up with him after the weekend. A girl's gotta eat."
Sam and Peanut amused themselves for another hour while Jake sat half-listening, half imagining Rachel's form under his navy blue sheet, making his pillow smell like strawberries. They were right, of course. Rachel would be gone in a few days, but was it wrong of him to try to keep her as long as he could? To listen to her talk until she had nothing else to say? To sleep with her as many times as he could before she realized she was too good for him? He couldn't blame her for that. It was, after all, completely true, and even if she didn't leave for that reason, she would leave when he found a minotaur in his bedroom closet. Or, more likely, she would leave when he started acting weird because he was trying to hide the minotaur from her. Jake had had enough two-week girlfriends to know how it would go. Vicious Tricia, his almost-date to senior prom, had been the one to reveal to him that not all women were as comfortable with the creatures of his father's world as his mother was. But it had been stupid of him to think that a girl would be comfortable with the knowledge that something was living in her corsage.
Rachel got revenge on him for forcing her to spend an hour with Peanut and Sam by introducing him to her three closest friends. All their names began with C, and he could never remember who was who. It took them fifteen seconds to decide they didn't like him, and they didn't try to hide it.
"What's your major?" one of them asked.
"English," he said.
She gave Rachel a look that said, ��Why couldn't you have picked a pre-med or a business major?" Or possibly it said, "Do you really want to live off a teacher's salary? Oh my god, he doesn't want to be a writer, does he?"
Another one asked him, "What do your parents do?"
"My mom died. My dad's a social worker in California," he replied, surprised to find that the old lie had finally become comfortable.
One of them telepathed to Rachel, "Weak genes." The other followed with, "Hippie."
Rachel rolled her eyes at them, then added her own question. "What were you for Halloween last year?"
"A Greek god."
"Which one?"
"Eros," Jake said, beginning to smile.
"Why?"
"Because that man has his priorities straight."
She grinned. Her friends gave him dirty looks and never said another word to him. Jake didn't care what they thought, or what Sam and Peanut said, or what Zeus meant when he warned Jake that some people didn't have the kind of creative mind necessary to accept the existence of a world beyond their own. That world, Zeus said, is hard enough to accept sometimes.
But Jake didn't have the brain space to worry about that. He was too busy memorizing the curve of her shoulder and the one lock of hair that always escaped her ponytail, sure that she wouldn't be there when he went to pick her up on a Friday night or that he would hear her voice in the background when he called, telling her roommate that she was asleep and couldn't come to the phone. He thought about her so much that he failed a class. Every time he went back to his apartment, he checked his answering machine and his email, just in case she had tried to contact him while he was out. He picked up extra hours at Corndog Heaven so he could take her out whenever she wanted to go. He bought her favorite CDs to keep in his car because she would lean her head back while he drove and sing along softly, always perfectly on key. He asked her questions about everything he could think of just to hear her voice.
And he made sure they spent as little time in his apartment as possible, sure that if Rachel had seen Bakri emerge from the Cheetos bag, he would've lost her completely. They graduated from college, and not long after that, Jake went to visit her. The first day, they took a walk, late at night in her hometown. The streets were silent at that hour, a few stars bright enough to shine through the glare of porch lights, and Jake asked her to marry him. They got married there, with all of her family gathered around them. Jake's only guests were Sam, Peanut, and a god in a late middle-aged man costume, who brought a box of horseshoes as a wedding present. "Hephaestus made them," Zeus whispered. "Pandora and I added them with a few other things to her little jewelry box and did a little Shake-n-Bake. It won't keep everything out. You know nothing will. But you and Rachel will be safe from the worst intruders."
Jake hugged him. Of all Zeus's presents throughout the years, Jake appreciated that one most.
One week before the wedding, Jake made himself do what he'd been postponing. He took Rachel out to dinner, and while they waited for their order, he told her everything, thinking that surely this would make everything okay. "My father is Zeus," he said. She just smiled with mild interest. "I'm half immortal, and from time to time, mythological creatures show up wherever I am." She raised an eyebrow. "Everything from nymphs to manticores." He opened his mouth and closed it, fishlike.
Her lack of response bothered him more than if she had called off the wedding immediately.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Her eyes lost all life. "Of course I understand," she said, looking down to straighten the napkin on her lap. "Don't do that. Don't treat me like I'm stupid."
"No, honey," he moved to her side of the table and put his arms around her. "That's not what I meant. Not at all. I just…." He shook his head and kissed her until the waiter arrived with their plates.
And he didn't say another word about it.
Late that night, when they were in bed, Rachel rolled sleepily to his side of the bed and put an arm across his chest. He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead, wondering if everyone felt this blessed at least once in life, hoping everyone did.
"What are you thinking about?" she mumbled.
"Is there anything that would make you stop loving me?" The words were out before he thought about them, and as soon as he heard them, he held his breath, hating himself for sounding so much like an insecure teenager, but anxious for Rachel's response. Maybe he didn't need to tell her every little detail. Maybe open communication was overrated. Maybe her answer to this question, maybe this promise, would be enough.
She raised her head enough to kiss him. "No. Nothing. Never."