Aphrodite's Choice
Chapter 33 - First Rejection (II)
Chapter 33 – First Rejection (II)
His answer shamed her. Aphrodite expected Hephaestus to get angry at her and scold her for being unreasonable. Instead, he continued in that patient, almost flat tone of his, “I’m not blaming you. I just mean that I can’t postpone my work at the forge. It’s the reason for my existence. The god of blacksmiths, not at his anvil? It’s like Zeus without his lightning bolts, or you suddenly losing the ability to love.”
Aphrodite’s frustration grew alongside her shame. Here she was, doing everything to provoke him into showing emotion. But it was to no avail. It was like Hephaestus had surrounded himself with tall, invisible walls with the doors locked tighter than an old oyster. She wanted to tear out her hair. The goddess of love was accustomed to everyone opening their hearts, or at least a part of it, to her. Her husband was the first to be seemingly immune to that effect.
In fact, Aphrodite suspected that if she pretended to walkout, a highly-effective weapon in her arsenal of charm, Hephaestus would let her do so without a word. She glared at him in frustration. None of Zeus’ brothers, sons, or even he himself, could ever make her feel the way she was feeling right now. “Is it because of his unusual calmness? Or is there another reason,” she wondered. She wanted to know, but there was not enough space in her head to think deeply about such problem.
“Then, what about me then,” she bewailed.
“What?”
“I’ll be all alone while you do all those great deeds for the other gods.”
Hephaestus raised a questioning eyebrow, as if to say, “You must be kidding.” After all, she had dozens of nymphs in attendance. Not to mention the gods and spirits who flittered in and out of her sanctuary at all hours for a mere glimpse of her.
But Aphrodite had never been as sincere and truthful as she was at the very moment. She would have traded all the treasures in her sanctuary, as well as those in the many temples dedicated to her, just so her husband would be by her side.
She wanted to scream at him, I don’t want to be alone. Shouldn’t you be next to me? I want to be with you. Instead, she meekly said, “I’ll be alone. Where will I be while you are at your forge?” Anyone who knew Aphrodite would have been amazed: even among the residents of Olympus, her pride was legendary and those words alone constituted a rare swallowing of that pride.
But it was all for naught. Hephaestus replied in that seemingly bored tone of his, “You just need to be at a place where it suits you.”
In despair, Aphrodite almost cried out, “What do you mean? Where is that?”
Is he smiling? Is he mocking me, she thought as the tips of her husband’s lips seemingly began to bend. Just an inch, but with Hephaestus’ stone-like face, he could’ve smeared his face with the paint of a dozen colors and achieved the same effect. No, she thought. It was something else. Aphrodite had been distraught for hours and she had begun to overanalyze her husband’s words and actions. I think he’s wincing in pain, she concluded.
“Anywhere, just not the place where the hammer and anvil are.”
The goddess of love no longer had an answer for that.
“Be with the things you like, and the things that like you. So that you won’t regret or feel sorry for spending time in a place that does not suit you.”
Aphrodite blinked in shock. She understood what he meant. He meant that they did not suit each other. He didn’t want her to come near the things he valued. In other words, he was rejecting her. It was a first. As the goddess of love, it was natural for anyone and anything to be attracted towards her, to seek her attention and approval. Yet here was one of the gods, undoubtedly the least handsome and probably the least intelligent as well, and he was rejecting her.
“Aphrodite?” asked Hephaestus tentatively.
“Stop it, I don’t want to hear it anymore. You don’t have to make it complicated. You mean you won’t change, right?”
“There is no way around it. I’m asking you to try to understand me.”
“I don’t want to,” she shot back, shaking her head in annoyance and despair, then got up before he could say anything else.
“I won’t accept your apology. I don’t want to forgive you.”
Although she spoke harshly, she was willing to forgive him if he decided to change his mind at the last minute. She thought it was pathetic at this point to do so, but she did not want to let go of him.
With her back turned towards him, Aphrodite held her breath and waited for an answer. She could not see his expression, but Hephaestus’ silence seemed to go on forever.
Come on, say you’re sorry. Say you’ll try to change, she shouted silently.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have anything more to say.”
With tears welling up in her eyes, Aphrodite whirled around to glare at her husband and then just as quickly, she ran away.
You decided to treat me like this? Alright. I have no choice but to make it very difficult for you to ignore me. I’ll make it impossible for you not to put aside that important job of yours for me.
His answer shamed her. Aphrodite expected Hephaestus to get angry at her and scold her for being unreasonable. Instead, he continued in that patient, almost flat tone of his, “I’m not blaming you. I just mean that I can’t postpone my work at the forge. It’s the reason for my existence. The god of blacksmiths, not at his anvil? It’s like Zeus without his lightning bolts, or you suddenly losing the ability to love.”
Aphrodite’s frustration grew alongside her shame. Here she was, doing everything to provoke him into showing emotion. But it was to no avail. It was like Hephaestus had surrounded himself with tall, invisible walls with the doors locked tighter than an old oyster. She wanted to tear out her hair. The goddess of love was accustomed to everyone opening their hearts, or at least a part of it, to her. Her husband was the first to be seemingly immune to that effect.
In fact, Aphrodite suspected that if she pretended to walkout, a highly-effective weapon in her arsenal of charm, Hephaestus would let her do so without a word. She glared at him in frustration. None of Zeus’ brothers, sons, or even he himself, could ever make her feel the way she was feeling right now. “Is it because of his unusual calmness? Or is there another reason,” she wondered. She wanted to know, but there was not enough space in her head to think deeply about such problem.
“Then, what about me then,” she bewailed.
“What?”
“I’ll be all alone while you do all those great deeds for the other gods.”
Hephaestus raised a questioning eyebrow, as if to say, “You must be kidding.” After all, she had dozens of nymphs in attendance. Not to mention the gods and spirits who flittered in and out of her sanctuary at all hours for a mere glimpse of her.
But Aphrodite had never been as sincere and truthful as she was at the very moment. She would have traded all the treasures in her sanctuary, as well as those in the many temples dedicated to her, just so her husband would be by her side.
She wanted to scream at him, I don’t want to be alone. Shouldn’t you be next to me? I want to be with you. Instead, she meekly said, “I’ll be alone. Where will I be while you are at your forge?” Anyone who knew Aphrodite would have been amazed: even among the residents of Olympus, her pride was legendary and those words alone constituted a rare swallowing of that pride.
But it was all for naught. Hephaestus replied in that seemingly bored tone of his, “You just need to be at a place where it suits you.”
In despair, Aphrodite almost cried out, “What do you mean? Where is that?”
Is he smiling? Is he mocking me, she thought as the tips of her husband’s lips seemingly began to bend. Just an inch, but with Hephaestus’ stone-like face, he could’ve smeared his face with the paint of a dozen colors and achieved the same effect. No, she thought. It was something else. Aphrodite had been distraught for hours and she had begun to overanalyze her husband’s words and actions. I think he’s wincing in pain, she concluded.
“Anywhere, just not the place where the hammer and anvil are.”
The goddess of love no longer had an answer for that.
“Be with the things you like, and the things that like you. So that you won’t regret or feel sorry for spending time in a place that does not suit you.”
Aphrodite blinked in shock. She understood what he meant. He meant that they did not suit each other. He didn’t want her to come near the things he valued. In other words, he was rejecting her. It was a first. As the goddess of love, it was natural for anyone and anything to be attracted towards her, to seek her attention and approval. Yet here was one of the gods, undoubtedly the least handsome and probably the least intelligent as well, and he was rejecting her.
“Aphrodite?” asked Hephaestus tentatively.
“Stop it, I don’t want to hear it anymore. You don’t have to make it complicated. You mean you won’t change, right?”
“There is no way around it. I’m asking you to try to understand me.”
“I don’t want to,” she shot back, shaking her head in annoyance and despair, then got up before he could say anything else.
“I won’t accept your apology. I don’t want to forgive you.”
Although she spoke harshly, she was willing to forgive him if he decided to change his mind at the last minute. She thought it was pathetic at this point to do so, but she did not want to let go of him.
With her back turned towards him, Aphrodite held her breath and waited for an answer. She could not see his expression, but Hephaestus’ silence seemed to go on forever.
Come on, say you’re sorry. Say you’ll try to change, she shouted silently.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have anything more to say.”
With tears welling up in her eyes, Aphrodite whirled around to glare at her husband and then just as quickly, she ran away.
You decided to treat me like this? Alright. I have no choice but to make it very difficult for you to ignore me. I’ll make it impossible for you not to put aside that important job of yours for me.