Theta

TRIGGER WARNING:THIS STORY CONTAINS THEMES OF MENTAL HEALTH, SEXUAL ABUSE, AND SUICIDE. 

“Owen, tell me about her.”

I don’t break the eye contact I’ve formed with the fish in the tank; It was red which was her favorite color on Tuesday. 

  “There are many things I could say.” I mumble. 

I finally look at the tall woman sitting across from me. The cat-eyed glasses sitting on her nose are outdated and a bright yellow; Her favorite color on Sunday. 

 “What is your favorite memory?” She tries again. 

I look back to the fish now and wish I were them. No thoughts, no cares, and no Theta. She would say that I shouldn’t want to be a fish, and then she would paint a gruesome picture of a bigger fish having my pipsqueak body for an afternoon snack. I wouldn’t mind being killed by a bigger fish. I’d be dead. There would be no thoughts, no cares, and no Theta. I wouldn’t remember our moments shared. The campfires would be gone because the only people who experienced it would be gone. I can see it so clearly, her crazy dark hair whipping around her bright eyes as she laughs at the dumb remark I made. 

“O.P., you’re different when we’re together. Careless. It’s fitting.” She laughed. 

I study her freckles and count them, “I am not careless, I am inebriated.” 

She laughs, but not the fake ones she gave to the boys in class. A real one, just for me to hear. 

She shakes her head softly, “Only you would use the word inebriated while stoned. You’re seriously not fucking normal. One of a kind I guess.” 

She was never more wrong. There were millions of Owens’ and in those millions were thousands just as, and smarter, than me. But Theta? There was only one Theta, well that mattered at least. No one had a mind like hers, and no one saw the world the way she did. 

“Come on Theta, I am sure there are an abundance of Owens’ who use words like inebriated.” I replied carelessly. 

She nodded but looked into the small fire, “You’re correct, but only one of them is sitting next to me on a Wednesday at precisely 2:56 A.M. smoking God’s Green Ganja. I’ve decided that green is my favorite color on Wednesday.” 

I shake my head at her usage of God, who was nowhere near this circle of sin. I thought about the other Theta’s of the world that God had created, but I knew none of them would ever be half as beautiful as mine. No other human in the world would have her wild curls that fall in front of amber eyes. I always got distracted by those eyes, they were too piercing to stare at for long and I admired it. She was surrounded by strength and everyone who was close to her was intimidated by it. I find myself doing the percentages of Theta’s in the world. I counted the odds of ever meeting another one. It wasn’t impossible, just not likely. I didn’t mind… I only needed one. 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” She says. 

I jump at the broken silence. She giggles softly and I forget what I was going to say. The drug coursing through me makes everything seem choppy, but I don't mind it.

“Percentages.” I settled on. 

She snorts loudly and shakes her head, “Unbelievable!”

I blink at her, “What?” 

“Percentages? Owen Patrick, for once in your life stop being so technical.” She chuckles out. 

“I cannot.” I say. 

She simply shakes her head and looks back to the fire. 

“What are you thinking about?” I say with a mocking tone. 

She breathes deeply and her face twists in the way that it does when someone asks about her future. She did that a lot. I never asked why because I felt it wasn’t my place. I've done thousands of percentages of things she could do in the future, but none ever seemed correct.

“I am thinking about Medusa.” She simply replied.

I wanted to question her, but I knew she would tell me anyway.

“Did you know that Medusa was once seen as the most beautiful woman to exist? Every man that ever met her asked for her hand in marriage.” She whispered. 

She spoke so quietly that I had to move closer to hear her better. 

` “Medusa was a monster who turned men to stone.” I replied flatly. 

I never understood Theta’s fascination with evil, but I never questioned it. 

She sighed and rubbed her face, “She wasn’t always that way. She was beautiful a-an-and graceful. Until a man ruined it. It’s always a man.” 

I didn’t interrupt. I gave her a tight-lipped frown but encouraged her to continue. 

“Every man wanted to be her husband, except for Poseidon. He is the real monster. He was fascinated by her beauty but had no interest in marriage… He hurt her. Badly. He hurt her and she was punished for it. It happened in Athena’s sacred temple, and this angered Athena. She cursed Medusa for a crime that Poseidon committed. She was given a life of solitude. She would never love because anyone who dared to look at her would turn to stone. It’s remarkably unfair.” She said harshly. 

I thought about the story and wondered why every version I had heard was different. 

“I didn’t know that.” I say softly. 

I watched as a single tear slipped from Theta’s cheek and I frowned. Her cheeks were not meant for tears. She sat silently for what seemed like hours. I sat quietly with her until she decided to speak again. 

“I’m Medusa.” She said strongly. 

I never questioned what she meant and I wondered if things would have gone differently if I had. The images of the fire fade and I close my eyes tightly. I look back at the fish and sigh. I hated remembering.  

I look over at the woman writing in her clipboard quickly and sigh, “I don’t have a good memory.” 

She hums and continues to write.

“Tell me about the dreams then.” She says kindly. 

I flinch and look away from her. 

“No.” 

She nods her head in understanding and begins to write again. 

“I don’t want to remember her.” I breathe out. 

The pen stops moving and her eyes snap to mine quickly. 

“Why?” She asks. 

I flinch as I remember her piercing eyes lifelessly staring at me. 

“Because she is dead.” I force out. 

The woman doesn’t break eye contact and I feel goosebumps rise from her stare. It was almost as intense as her’s.

“How does that make you feel?” She tries again. 

My leg jumps harshly under the table causing the hideous ornament to fall off. 

“Guilty? I think… I’m not sure. Angry? Theta told me what happened but I was too stupid to listen, and then three months later she’s lying in a bathtub cold and lifeless. It was my fault.” I spit out. 

She doesn’t react and I immediately apologize for my harsh tone.  

“There is no need to apologize. But Owen, I need you to understand this. What happened was not your fault. Theta suffered years of untreated mental illness and you were a sixteen year old boy. You didn’t see the signs and that is okay, and I promise you that no one blames you.” She said sympathetically. 

I roll my eyes, “I blame me.” 

She simply nods her head and writes in her clipboard again. Theta was not mentally ill. Her mind was beautiful and unique, and some drunk college kid tainted it. She told me and I didn’t listen. 

“Owen, I want you to do something for me… I want you to write her a letter. You don’t have to share it with anyone. It is between you and her only. Tell her what you want, and listen for her answer. She loved you dearly, and she still does.” She said kindly. 

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous idea. 

“Are we done here?” I snap. 

She doesn’t react, just writes. 

“ Are. We. Done?” I ask again. 

She looks at me and smiles. 

“Yes. I will see you Thursday.” 

“Her favorite color was pink on Thursday.” I whisper.

I walk out without saying goodbye. 

I stay up all night writing a letter to her, but everything I say is wrong. I must have written fifty letters before I gave up. I collect them all in a shoe box and try to sleep. It doesn’t find me and I sigh as I see the sun shine through my window. I look at the box and frown. I would never be able to write a letter good enough for her to read. I roughly grab the box and make my way to the clearing. 

I see the circle that used to hold our fires, now filled with flowers I planted. I smile gently at it and sit beside them. I open the box and lay all of the letters in the soil. 

“Hey Theta, I did some research last night. Did you know that seven thousand, five hundred, and twenty three people named Theta were born in 1992, and I, out of all people, got to love the most beautiful one. I tried to write you a letter but got angry because I couldn’t find the right words. You were always better at that anyway. Anyways, I love you and miss you.” I whisper. 

I light the papers on fire and watch in awe as the flowers burn. I fight a smile as I think of whatever philosophical thought she would tell me about this. The flowers shrivel and turn black before the flame consumes them and I sigh. Something so beautiful, destroyed by a man. She would say that. 

A quick movement catches my eye and I jump as an amber snake slithers across my foot. I should run, but I almost wish it would strike me and do what I don’t have the courage to do. I stare at the beautiful way it shines and gently pick it up. I think of how Theta would be fascinated by the creature that everyone else would view as evil. I look at its eyes and see that they have been wounded and scarred over. The poor thing was blind. I feel comforted by it though, and I set it gently into the shoe box.

“You don’t seem so evil this close you know.” I whisper to her. 

I think of Theta again and frown.

“Theta would have believed you were beautiful, so I will believe it.” 

I carry the snake home in the shoebox and sit it on the bed. I studied it for a while and waited for the sun to come up. I didn’t succeed. 

I felt a sense of peace as I drifted to sleep beside the creature. I know that Theta sent me the fascinating animal, and I know that she read my letters. 

I dreamt of Medusa that night.