‘Peirene, have you arrived drunk at work?’ I furrow my brows. This is truly peculiar behaviour – even for my Nymph.
‘No,’ she replies absent-mindedly, as she is dismantling the picture frame. Sitting down with the photograph at her desk she brings it close up to her face.
‘I wonder if he is a mortal?’ She turns the photo to the left and the right, peering at it even more closely. ‘In fact, I think he might be an ancient Greek god.’
I laugh out loud. ‘He is no god. He’s got too many human flaws.’
‘How can you say that?!’ The Nymph shakes her head without averting her gaze from his image. ‘His only fault is that he married a human female who cannot see his true virtues.’
I walk over to her desk. No smell of alcohol. I put my hand on her forehead. No fever either.
‘So why this sudden appreciation for my husband?’ I ask.
‘Because he spent the entire weekend helping you to sort out the company spreadsheets and the 2014 royalty statements for all our books.’
I nod. ‘Yes. Indeed I told him that he is a spreadsheet hero.’
‘That’s just not good enough.’ She fastens the photo onto the wall behind her desk. ‘He deserves to be worshiped.’ She takes a blank piece of paper and sticks it across the children and my image. Then she sends air kisses towards him and bows her head in silent adoration. I decide to let her be.
A few days later I discover that the photo is back in its frame and in its place on the shelf. ‘Has the god tumbled down to earth again? ‘ I enquire with a smile.
‘He certainly has.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘I nearly tripped over the open dishwasher. Only mortal men don’t know how to close dishwashers.’ She sounds disappointed. Then she perks up. ‘Still, I would like a photo of him – just of him, please. Even if imperfect, he is one of the best examples of his species.’
Image by Dee Ashely