She walks up the dark brown stairs of her front porch. One of her black cats brushes up against her leg.
“Good evening, Hestia.” She waves her hand, as she crouches down to pet the cat; “Pós eísai, Ádi?” Crumbs of crocodile green crawl around the carved lock, magically unlocking the maroon door. Ms. Wallaker stands up and opens the door.
She steps out of her Chelsea boots.
“Welcome home, baby!” her wife says.
She sets her bag onto a small, tan couch and walks into the kitchen.
…
Her wife is putting a few round-bottomed glasses into a beige cupboard. “How was your day?”
“Pretty good. I got all my stuff packed up but that old pendant broke.”
She closes the cupboard. “From Teri?”
“Yeah. But that thing was old anyway.” She walks up to her wife and hugs her from behind. “It wasn’t from you either, so I don’t care about it too much.”
They smile.
…
“Do you want help unloading?”
They grin.
“Your car,” she adds.
“If you want.”
Her wife unwraps herself and guides them to the door; she grabs the car keys. They walk out.
…
She opens the trunk. She picks up a cheap, plastic nameplate; “Professor Sirena Wallaker.”
“We should really get you a new nameplate,” she says.
“We’d have to get you one too, Mrs. Erin Wallaker, just so we could match.”
Erin blushes.
They start unpacking the cardboard boxes and plastic tubs.
…
…
Erin takes a few boxes inside.
…
…
Their black cat comes over and sits down.
…
…
Erin comes back out. Sirena carries a few boxes in.
…
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The black cat jumps into the trunk.
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Sirena comes back out.
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The cat starts knocking stuff out.
Thmm-puh-puh.
…
Ffffkkaahh!
…
Sirena takes a few more boxes in.
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…
CRASSHSHSH!!
Sirena comes back out.
Erin is picking up the shards of her white, rose-patterned vase.
Her shoulders slump. She kneels down and helps pick up the pieces.
…
Sirena’s eyes start to water.
…
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Erin sets the shards into one of the plastic tubs sitting beside the trunk. She kneels back down and scoots closer to Sirena.
She hugs her.
…
“I was gonna go to the store later to get you new flowers anyways.”
Sirena looks to Erin.
“Now we can go together.”
Sirena sets her head on Erin’s shoulder.
“Do you wanna get ice cream tonight too?” she asks.
…
“Yes, please.”
A red-roofed shop with cyan walls and a white sign above the doorway, reading “Iris’ Ice Cream Cartel,” sits between slim, apartment buildings as Erin and Sirena walk out with small, half-empty cups of ice cream and tiny wooden spoons in their hands.
…
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They walk across the street.
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They arrive at the large, domed ceramics shop. Sirena opens the ballroom door for her wife.
“Thank you.”
Sirena follows.
“You’re welcome, lovely.”
The two of them browse the crowded shelves of blue and cream-shelled pots and cups and pans.
…
Sirena locks her arm with Erin’s.
…
…
Erin picks up a stout, frog-green vase with petals painted across its wall, as if the pot was shedding its leaves for winter.
“Do you like this one?” Erin asks.
“I think the petals would look better if they were pink, instead of white.”
“I know where some pink paint is at home, if you want to add painting to the date night.”
Sirena smiles. “Absolutely.”
They walk to the counter. Sirena throws her empty cup away.
The cashier looks at them.
Erin sets the vase on the counter.
“You guys aren’t dating, are you?” The cashier takes the vase and checks it out to them.
“We are. You have a problem with that?” Erin defends.
“No. But you’re sinning against God, you know.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Erin pays, takes the vase, and guides them out of the store.
“Mátia pou kaíne,” Sirena mutters.
AAAGGHHH!!
She grins. Erin chuckles.
They walk into a janky, stone shop with an old wooden sign hanging above the door, reading “Ravdiá agáou Chlorós.”
TUHH-RINGGG-DINGGG!
“Greetings, traveler!!” an upbeat voice shouts!
“Hello, Ms. Chloros,” Sirena says.
“Ms. Wallaker!” Ms. Chloros comes out, “How are you? Are you finally back for a new wand?” She sets her elbows on the counter, holding her head up.
“Yes, we are!!” Sirena smiles.
“Ohhh, is Mrs. Wallaker coming for her wand as well?”
Ms. Chloros walks out from behind her counter.
“Do you have an odigós, Mrs. Wallaker?”
“I do not.”
Ms. Chloros directs Erin to a directory of animals across the room; five pictures above five descriptions are spread in front of a large, gridded window.
“Take a look, then, dear.”
“Sirena-” Ms. Chloros turns to her, “-we shall find you a wand!”
…
Erin is sitting on the counter, petting a purple-striped cat lying beside her. Sirena walks out from the hall with a long, thin osier-wood wand, centered by a carnelian gem above the handle of green-tipped lilies.
“‘Tis your turn, Mrs. Wallaker!!”
Erin stands up and follows Ms. Chloros to her wandsmithing table.
Sirena admires the soft cement outside of the wandmaker’s shop.
…
…
…
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She sees a faint painting in the glass:
a few children running past the window, followed by different horses and cats with their parents following behind them with rams and dolphins.
…
…
…
“That was much quicker,” Ms. Chloros remarks.
Erin comes out wielding a thick, fir-bodied wand with thin metal armor patterned with sickles and centered by a topaz.
“How’s your odigós, Ms. Wallaker?”
“He’s probably doing pretty well.”
A little orange owl sparkles into the air beside Sirena’s shoulder.
“Yup!” She looks to her shoulder. “Doing pretty well!” She chuckles.
The owl looks at Erin and hops closer to her.
“Hello,” Erin says.
The owl hops onto her shoulder.
“Traitor,” Sirena teases.
The owl nuzzles into Erin’s neck. Erin’s purple-striped odigós swats at the bird. The owl jumps back and stares at the cat.
They laugh as the two guides play with each other.
…