vain bastard who thinks he’s too good for her,” Lexi went on. “So in some of the myths, Echo pines away until the only thing left is her voice. But in other stories, Echo swears off men forever, and then Pan falls in love with her.”
“Isn’t Pan the same as Hermes?” I asked. “Or Dionysus?”
“My grandfather would fall over dead if you ever said that to him. No, they were different. Some myths have Hermes as Pan’s father, but according to others, Pan is much older. He shows up in the beliefs of many different cultures around the world. He’s a satyr and kind of a badass but also kind of a lech, and he’s always trying to get various nymphs in bed. When Echo rejects him, he inspires a herd of shepherds to rip her to shreds—that’s where the word ‘panic’ comes from—and the only thing left is her voice, still cursed to repeat the living.” Lexi flicked a cigarette out the window.
“That is pretty grim,” I admitted. I wondered if this was what I’d think of every time I heard an echo now, as Lexi obviously did.
“Yeah. But nobody gets off lightly in ancient Greece. Nemesis always balances the scales. She makes Narcissus fall in love with his own reflection, and he kills himself when he realizes he can’t screw himself.”
“I don’t remember that part,” I said.
“I’m paraphrasing.”
“So was Nemesis a goddess or what?”
“She’s the personification of retribution and, like, karmic balance. She’s my favorite. Orpheus wrote a pretty great hymn for her: ‘To every mortal is thy influence known, and men beneath thy righteous bondage groan; for every thought within the mind concealed is to thy sight perspicuously revealed.’”
Lexi left me on the far side of the bridge from where Ted and I parked during school, in Aqueduct Park. It was easier to get down to the bridge at night through the park, though still creepy: the moon was nearly full, and the jungle gym cast strange, sharp shadows on the sand while the swings waved eerily in a slight breeze. Lexi’s story was, appropriately, echoing in my mind, and I couldn’t help but imagine a herd of evil Pan-goats with glowing eyes appearing over a small rise of land in the park. I would never admit it, but I’d been a little afraid of the dark since I was small. My mind couldn’t help but scroll through all the possible things that might be waiting to jump out and grab me: men with knives, ghosts in white dresses with holes for eyes, Hugh Marsden. I dug my hands into my pockets and hurried down to the bridge. The Big Dipper spread across the sky between the skeletal fingers of the bare trees rising up on both banks. I could see a figure with its back to me, leaning against the railing and looking down to the water. I hoped it was Ted, and of course it was. Belknap was generally free of murderous drifters and vengeful ghosts. Though it was not entirely free of rapists.
“Hey, babe.” Ted held out his arms, wrapping me in a hug as I stepped into them. “Have fun tonight?”
Ted seemed to have assumed I’d been with some of the usual girls, Melissa and Hilary or Selena, Marian, and Lindsay. I didn’t correct him, and I hoped he wouldn’t ask directly or bring it up in front of them.
“Sure,” I said. “What about you? Big dinner with Tom and Dad, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ted rubbed his head. “Tomorrow morning might be a little rough. We’re leaving for the Berkshires at seven.”
I snuggled closer into him. “Maybe you should be at home in bed, then.”
“But I wanted to see you,” Ted nuzzled my hair while he reached behind him and picked up a blanket that was folded over the railing. “I know we can’t spend the whole night together, but I thought maybe we could, you know…”
I didn’t let go of him, but I tilted my head back and looked him in the eye. “You thought we could make love on a blanket in the woods?” I felt a rush of emotions: panic, shame, and disappointment—disappointment with Ted,
“Isn’t Pan the same as Hermes?” I asked. “Or Dionysus?”
“My grandfather would fall over dead if you ever said that to him. No, they were different. Some myths have Hermes as Pan’s father, but according to others, Pan is much older. He shows up in the beliefs of many different cultures around the world. He’s a satyr and kind of a badass but also kind of a lech, and he’s always trying to get various nymphs in bed. When Echo rejects him, he inspires a herd of shepherds to rip her to shreds—that’s where the word ‘panic’ comes from—and the only thing left is her voice, still cursed to repeat the living.” Lexi flicked a cigarette out the window.
“That is pretty grim,” I admitted. I wondered if this was what I’d think of every time I heard an echo now, as Lexi obviously did.
“Yeah. But nobody gets off lightly in ancient Greece. Nemesis always balances the scales. She makes Narcissus fall in love with his own reflection, and he kills himself when he realizes he can’t screw himself.”
“I don’t remember that part,” I said.
“I’m paraphrasing.”
“So was Nemesis a goddess or what?”
“She’s the personification of retribution and, like, karmic balance. She’s my favorite. Orpheus wrote a pretty great hymn for her: ‘To every mortal is thy influence known, and men beneath thy righteous bondage groan; for every thought within the mind concealed is to thy sight perspicuously revealed.’”
Lexi left me on the far side of the bridge from where Ted and I parked during school, in Aqueduct Park. It was easier to get down to the bridge at night through the park, though still creepy: the moon was nearly full, and the jungle gym cast strange, sharp shadows on the sand while the swings waved eerily in a slight breeze. Lexi’s story was, appropriately, echoing in my mind, and I couldn’t help but imagine a herd of evil Pan-goats with glowing eyes appearing over a small rise of land in the park. I would never admit it, but I’d been a little afraid of the dark since I was small. My mind couldn’t help but scroll through all the possible things that might be waiting to jump out and grab me: men with knives, ghosts in white dresses with holes for eyes, Hugh Marsden. I dug my hands into my pockets and hurried down to the bridge. The Big Dipper spread across the sky between the skeletal fingers of the bare trees rising up on both banks. I could see a figure with its back to me, leaning against the railing and looking down to the water. I hoped it was Ted, and of course it was. Belknap was generally free of murderous drifters and vengeful ghosts. Though it was not entirely free of rapists.
“Hey, babe.” Ted held out his arms, wrapping me in a hug as I stepped into them. “Have fun tonight?”
Ted seemed to have assumed I’d been with some of the usual girls, Melissa and Hilary or Selena, Marian, and Lindsay. I didn’t correct him, and I hoped he wouldn’t ask directly or bring it up in front of them.
“Sure,” I said. “What about you? Big dinner with Tom and Dad, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ted rubbed his head. “Tomorrow morning might be a little rough. We’re leaving for the Berkshires at seven.”
I snuggled closer into him. “Maybe you should be at home in bed, then.”
“But I wanted to see you,” Ted nuzzled my hair while he reached behind him and picked up a blanket that was folded over the railing. “I know we can’t spend the whole night together, but I thought maybe we could, you know…”
I didn’t let go of him, but I tilted my head back and looked him in the eye. “You thought we could make love on a blanket in the woods?” I felt a rush of emotions: panic, shame, and disappointment—disappointment with Ted,
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