WHO Marcella, Aphrodite WHEN Sunday morning WHERE Aphrodite’s home WHAT meeting each other properly WARNINGS none
After Much had left the night before, Marcie had been lead to a bedroom which sat opposite the room which looked like it was shared by a whole pile of nymphs who were extremely comfortable with each others’ bodies. Marcie was glad she had a room she could shut the door of and be alone.
Her case sat in the corner of the room, matte and black. The case itself wasn’t hers, of course, it was Malcolm’s. She couldn’t bring herself to touch it yet, let alone open it and find her things. Fortunately, a fresh toothbrush lay on the counter of the beautiful azure bathroom. It felt so good to have clean teeth again.
She got into bed, still wearing the robe, and fiddled with her broken phone for a while. She felt cut off without a phone. She felt cut off entirely. And if Ares and Much had been any later to rescue her, she would have been cut off forever. She fell asleep almost without noticing, and had fitful dreams. She kept waking up, feeling like her wrists were restrained still, and having to remind herself she wasn’t there any more.
When the sun came up, Marcie rose too, finding her way back to the kitchen. The room with the nymphs was half empty, but the missing ones weren’t in the kitchen, so she made herself a cup of coffee and found a seat in the dining room to sit in the morning sun and warm herself for a while.
In the dining room, large and framed with ornate antique gold, was a copy of the famous Botticelli Birth of Venus. She looked at it as she drank her coffee. Was the real Aphrodite anything like that? She’d seemed slender and her hair was lighter, but she did have that certain presence in the room. Marcie was going to have to go and find her.
As she ascended the stairs, she noticed a soft murmur of voices coming from above. The door to the bathroom stood open. The room was gorgeous, warm stone flags on the floor, wooden counters, a huge mosaic of that Waterhouse painting of the nymphs on the wall, and a steaming hot bath in the middle of the room, in which a couple of nymphs sat, chatting and taking care of each other.
“Sister,” greeted one, the one from the kitchen last night, Marcie realised. The nymph reached for her, gently but firmly taking her hand and drawing her into the room. “Look at you. Let us look after you.”
“Yes, dear one, come sit with us. We will comfort you.”
Marcie felt inexorably pulled forward. She was undressed by several soft hands and guided into the bath to sit between them. The hot water smelled good. She sat still as her hair was washed, and her body scrubbed clean. She did feel exposed at first, but the voices of the nymphs were so beautiful, and they talked to each other about people she didn’t know as they worked, so she didn’t feel like they were all staring at her. She was able to sit and soak and feel the heaviness of the last few days melt away.
“I need to see Aphrodite,” she said, as the nymphs towel dried her hair and combed it out, then braided it and put it up with pretty flower pins. She was provided with new clothes too: not her usual put-together style, but a knee-length creamy draped Greek dress that complemented her softer hairstyle.
And then a nymph knocked lightly at the door that lead to the bedroom. “Marcella is ready to see you, my lady,” she called, opening the door slightly to look in, then gestured that Marcie should step forward and meet her new “step-mother”.