The Goddess and the Golden Sunflower

Restless

The Queen stepped inside her garden, the smell of trees and flowers refreshing. She wandered through the aisles of carefully pruned plants and then pushed apart the glass doors of her greenhouse. Her fingers spread, touching row after row of sumptuous blooms, until she reached a bed of sunflowers. Gold sunflowers.

She grabbed a stool and picked one of her glittery creations as she sat, the odor soothing her senses and her mind. Two weeks ago, she had made her first appearance in years, and it did not feel like she hoped it would. It had been ages since she had been in a swarm of people like that; they had been looking at her clothes, ride, and figure, hers and her companions. She had drawn much attention to herself, yet that was never the troubling part. Attention was part of being royalty. That was her place in the world as far as she could remember.

What troubled her was going there in the first place. What drove her to think she could rejoin the world? She would never be accepted in whole, and she knew better than to hope for it. There would never be a place where she truly could be herself except here. Hidden. Where people were safe from her...

“Majesty?” Maestro’s voice rang behind an adjacent bed of white roses.

She brushed the metal edges of the petals. “Yes, Quinn.”

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smiled as he emerged, his eyes falling on the flower in her hand. “That’s a beautiful one.”

She lifted the sunflower to her nose and took a long breath. “Do you know what the most beautiful part of these is?”

“Strength, longevity, elegance, the intensity of its smell.” He perched before her, his smile growing. “The fact that you made this stunning hybrid.”

“No.” She gazed at him, and then her fist crushed the plant to fine dust. “The most beautiful part is that, despite all these qualities, they still can die.”

A grimace replaced his smile. “Your Majesty is unhappy.”

She sprinkled the gold powder onto the soil. “Of course, I am unhappy, Quinn. Bored, too.”

“Tell me what to do.”

A bitter smile curved her lips.

“We can return to school. Have a normal year like Your Majesty planned.”

“It wasn’t as pleasing as I thought it would be. All that energy. All those feelings of horny teenagers.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. However, there was one soul in particular that stood out from the masses. Powerful and unique. A kind of energy she hadn’t experienced before.

“I know what surely can cheer Your Majesty up.”

She opened her eyes. “And what is that?”

He rose, his deep gaze holding hers. “Finding him.”

Her heart dented at the thought. “You know we cannot.”

“Majesty—”

“She made me promise, Maestro. He’s safer that way.” She fought her tears. “Besides, had he wanted to be with us, he would have found us. But he never tried to reach out. Not once.”

“Perhaps he…” He trailed off.

The Queen jumped to her feet, a wave of energy hitting her. A familiar kind of energy. Her kind. “You felt that?”

He nodded. “Looks like we are heading back to Berkeley after all.”

****

Unable to rest, Anthony lurched out of bed. He sat at his minimal desk in the far corner of the room, ruffling through a loose-leaf notebook where he kept his sketches—the ones that were not meant to be seen. Then he picked one of them and pinned it to his easel.

He must have drawn more than a hundred sketches of The Queen’s face in the past couple of weeks. He thought if he could get it down on paper, it would leave his head alone. Unfortunately, every time he drew her face, he was more and more attached to its charms. And the fact that he hadn’t seen her since that first day at school tore his mind apart.

“A sketch is not enough,” he said to himself, his gaze glued to The Queen’s face. He scratched his head and started a new painting.

He immersed himself in the job for hours. He never stopped until he felt a sudden pat on his shoulder.

Startled, he yelled, “What?”

“Hey, it’s just me,” Kay said. “Your mom? Ring any bells?”

“Mom, what do you want?”

“I’ve been screaming your name for half an hour now. It’s dinner time.”

“Sorry. I guess I didn’t hear you,” he apologized, still stupefied.

Kay grunted, glancing at the painting. “She’s beautiful. Who’s she?”

“Um— she’s— no one— or—someone.”

She stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged.

She sighed. “Fine! But eat now, paint later. Your father and I are starving.” She pushed him gently in front of her to make sure he wouldn’t sit down.

At dinner, Anthony buried his face in his plate, eating as fast as he could. The Queen had forced her way into his thoughts, he couldn’t taste what was in his mouth. Even when his parents opened a conversation and looked over at him, he offered nothing.

He kept dragging his mind to the one meeting he’d had with The Queen. It was strange and unsatisfying, to say the least. But really what had he expected? Maybe if she had ignored him like all the other students she’d ignored, if she hadn’t told him to sit in front of her, if she wasn’t terribly magnificent, he might have let her out of his head. Just maybe.

After he finished eating, Anthony headed for his room. As he climbed the stairs, he heard the phone ringing.

“Anthony, it’s for you!” Kay yelled.

“I’m not here,” he said, running up the stairs.

“It’s Tommy. I already told him you’re here.”

Anthony’s shoulders slumped. Wincing, he turned back. “Hey—yeah—using landlines now?—I turned it off for a reason—I don’t think so—what game?”

Kay stared at her son as he refused, for the first time ever, to watch a game with his best friend. Seeing that look on his mother’s face and listening to Tommy’s persistent request made Anthony realize that turning down this invitation would open the door for suspicions. As much as he wanted to get back to his breathtaking obsession, he also wanted to keep it a secret.

“All right, stop nagging, old woman. I’m coming,” Anthony said and hung up.

He jumped into the shower to remove the paint covering him, and then went to the garage. He took his silver-striped, black Beetle instead of his bicycle so he could return home as fast as possible.

Fresh air, eyes on the road, and music blaring from the radio managed to push the thoughts running through his head aside for a while that he started to believe he could stop thinking about her if he wanted.

Right at that particular moment, he saw her.

The Beetle swerved to a halt by the curb. Anthony jumped out of it, and ran down to the Ferry terminal, where he spotted her at the pier, ready to board.

When he reached the dock, the ferry had already streamed through the bay. He gaped at the fading faces of the commuters, but he couldn’t see hers. Cursing at the air, he put his hands on his waist and blew out a frustrated breath.

Was that really her? Was she here in Berkeley all this time? And where are her three musketeers?

As he drove again, another question imposed itself upon him; What if it wasn’t her?

He shook his head. "Is it not enough to daydream about her? Do I need to see live phantoms of her everywhere, too?” he yelled at his steering wheel.

He slammed the gas pedal and the Beetle shot forward into the dark, quiet street. When he reached Tommy’s house, he popped the door open while simultaneously releasing the seatbelt. From the corner of his eye, he saw Claire standing outside in the large yard.

“Hey, you’re finally here,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Anthony said. “What are you doing outside?”

“Um… nothing. I was just getting some fresh air,” she answered, still smiling.

Anthony could easily tell she was lying. She was waiting for him. “Okay.” He nodded. “I’m going inside.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s kinda chilly.” She sniffed, linking arms with him.

Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the enormous hall and went straight to the living room. The room was spacious and spotless. An electronic fireplace was situated on the interior wall below the TV. The walls were painted black and all the furniture was white. French sliding doors covered the eastern side, opening onto a patio that led to a swimming pool.

Tommy and John sat beside each other on the couch eating popcorn, eyes pinned to the flat TV screen.

“Tony! What took you so long? The game is about to start,” John said.

Anthony sat on the cozy couch between his friends. “I had some paint on me. Needed to wash it off.”

Claire’s eyes sparkled. “What are you painting?”

Anthony cleared his throat “Nothing important. It’s just … something for school.”

“What? We’re catching up now? The game is on, guys. Watch or shut up,” John said.

Anthony looked from Tommy to Claire and back again. Abruptly, he grabbed the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of him and emptied it on John’s head. Claire and Tommy giggled and joined the popcorn fight. All four of them played together the same way they used to play a decade ago. It was the perfect distraction Anthony needed.

After the game, Anthony glanced at Tommy. “Are you still moving out?”

“Yeah! That was my only condition to go to college here. My own apartment.”

“We all got something out of staying here,” John said.

The words grabbed Anthony’s attention. “Really? What did you get?”

“Last summer’s Eurotrip. Aunt Kay paid for the whole thing.” He pointed at Claire. “She paid for Claire, too.”

Anthony narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t know that.” He mused. “She bribed you with a trip to get you to go to Berkeley?”

“I didn’t need a bribe to choose Berkeley.” Claire chuckled.

“Speak for yourself. It worked for me.” John laughed.

“That trip was awesome,” Tommy said.

“Yeah. We had a lot of fun,” Claire agreed.

“Except for you, party-pooper. You spent the whole trip brooding.” John made a face at Anthony. “So what did you get?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I got to go to the college of my dreams and stay with my friends and family.”

John snorted. “But you could have asked for more, like an apartment or a real car. You’re Anthony Parker, dude.”

Anthony frowned. “How is moving out any different from leaving the state as I was going to? I couldn’t just move out and break my parents’ hearts even more.”

“Of course,” Claire said softly. “It’s so sweet of you.”

“And I love my Beetle. I paid for it myself, and I’m proud of it.”

“I like it, too,” Claire agreed.

“It’s not gonna get you any babes,” John said.

“Babes? What is this, the nineties?” Anthony sneered. “Anyways, I’m not interested in any girl who’s gonna like me for my car or because I’m a Parker. I’ve had enough of that.”

“Your loss, Parker,” John teased.

Anthony chortled and looked at Tommy. “When are you gonna move, anyway? It’s been two weeks already.”

“The guy who lives in the apartment still has a couple weeks left on the contract. I’m moving in right after he leaves,” Tommy answered. “Hey, I’m gonna have a huge party when I move in. I want you to invite everyone you know. Okay? It’s gonna be one hell of a party.”

“Cool. Do you need any help?” Anthony offered.

“Sure. We should start tomorrow.”

Relieved and excited that he had finally found a project that could take his mind elsewhere, Anthony said, “That’s perfect.”

“I got the drinks and the music,” John said.

“Anthony and I got the flyers and the invitations,” Claire said. “I can come to your place tomorrow to work on them.”

Anthony swallowed. “Sure.”

Tommy frowned and slumped in his seat.

****

When Anthony walked into the house, he overheard his mother talking on the phone.

“All right, Nancy, I understand. He’s here now. Let me call you later.”

He walked into the living room and greeted her. He sat beside her on the dark brown, leather couch. “You were talking to Nancy?”

“Yes.” She pushed a long strand of blonde hair back from her face.

He stared at her angry eyes. “How’s she doing?”

Kay furrowed her brows as she adjusted her posture. “Why haven’t you been going to your sessions?”

He inhaled and squared his jaw.

She crossed her legs. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I missed a couple of sessions, so what?”

She shot a glance at him, her blue eyes hard. “It’s not just that.” She paused. “You’re distracted all the time. You barely see your friends, and you’re missing therapy.” She shook her head. “That’s not nothing, Anthony.”

He stood. “Going back to therapy was my choice, Mom. I can stop whenever I want.”

“You can only stop when you’re healed,” she said, her voice loud.

“Well, maybe I feel better.” He raised his voice, too.

She jumped to her feet. “You’ve been through hell. Two people, whom you loved very much, have cheated on you. You walked in on them. And now you have to see them together every single day.” She let out a short sigh. “You and I both know that you are not feeling any better. Not just yet.”

“Great job reminding me of the worst thing that has ever happened to me, Mom. Thank you so much for rubbing it in my face.” He turned around and ran up to his room.

“Anthony, get back here. I’m not done with you.”

He slammed the door and locked it. He threw himself on the bed and stared at his unfinished painting for hours.

Finally, he walked toward it. He frowned at it for a few moments. Then he grabbed his brush and palette with determined hands.