Judith and Sappho ~ Ema Summar

Professor Forsyth’s office wasn’t that hard to break into.

Anne and Paul had insisted on taking me along, almost positive that they could find dirt on him. They claimed it was because they wanted better grades in the class, but the nasty rumors about him said otherwise. Anne’s best friend Debby said otherwise.

“We better hurry. I don’t need the fuzz on me again,” Paul declared, bright eyes darting back and forth across the hallway. His leather jacket was starting to get too small for arms that were poking a bit too far out the end. Bronze hair slicked back, he pulled a hand through it, subconsciously glancing at Anne. It was easy to deduce why he was there.

Anne gave him a withering look. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll be in and out.” Her lack of conversation was a bit unusual, but we all knew why. Her face was pale as a ghost and her eyes were bloodshot. It wasn’t in any of our interests to push a girl that was trying to get justice for her friend. “Besides, nobody can blame us,” she mumbled, almost inaudibly. Thinking about her reason for being there would only lead me back to a darker place.

Why was I there?

I was a good Christian girl attending a community college in hopes to learn basic ancient Greek to better understand the Bible. There was no ulterior motive to it. I wasn’t going to shirk my responsibilities and try to get a job. I just wanted to postpone getting married for a bit longer. Something my parents were less than happy about.

“Anne is right. Don’t be a candyass, Paul.” My choice of words led him to shoot me a scathing look that told me loads about what he wanted to say back, but I just smiled (and asked Jesus for forgiveness for cursing).

“What’re you doing here anyway, Jude? Good girls like you don’t just go breaking into offices,” Paul bit back. I thought about losing it. Maybe even telling him about the fight with my parents earlier that evening that had landed the bruise on my cheek covered beneath layers of makeup. But what would it amount to? It wouldn’t change my situation. It wouldn’t change anything.

“Thought I’d try it out. Everyone has a wild phase,” I chirped. The words sounded hollow, but it was better than the alternative. Besides, these were the first people I’d gotten to see outside of class in a while. I didn’t want to ruin it.

Once we found his door, it was a matter of seconds before Paul picked the lock. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Anne brushed right past him and started searching through the pile of books closest to the door. I thought about giving him a hard time but decided to focus on what was in front of me.

The first thing I noticed was the poorly hid Playboy Magazine shoved beneath a pile of papers. I yanked it out and realized with disgust that it was the July 1965 edition; only a few months old. I carefully put it back and decided to scrub my brain of that particular detail. The professor’s desk had piles of books strewn across it with no apparent order. Papers and more books laid on the floor around it, as if he’d dropped a stack of homework and hadn’t bothered to clean it up. I didn’t want to know what the dark substance on the floor was, so I started walking straight to his bookshelf. I wasn’t sure what I would find up there, but it seemed like a good start after the desk.

I flipped through a few old books filled with dust and crumpling papers. Nothing interesting. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for. A letter to her? A confession note? A magazine? At that point, the only thing keeping me running was a want to be helpful.

I looked through a few papers stuffed in books, but the handwriting was illegible. As I continued my search, it was hard to not get lost in thoughts of earlier.

I reflexively touched my cheek, wondering how long it would take to heal up. A bitter part of me wondered how they could call themselves Christians. I knew they’d reply with their usual spare the rod, spoil the child, but was that really what Proverbs 13:24 meant? I couldn’t believe that.

After leaving my parents’ house, I wasn’t sure where to go. I’d walked around for a while before finding myself at Anne’s. We’d exchanged addresses for the upcoming project in our Biblical Philosophy class. Before I could get a word out, she was rambling about Professor Forsyth and what a horrible person he was. Next thing I knew, I was sitting on her bed as she cried about the injustice of what had happened to Debby. Without thinking much, I agreed to help her figure it out.

I didn’t realize that meant breaking into his office.

Even so, maybe that was what I needed. At the very least, it kept me away from my parents for the evening. I prayed it wouldn’t end with us in the back of a police car. Ancient Greek text stopped me in my tracks.

I pulled the book out to get a better look at it. It was covered in dust from top to bottom. When was the last time he’d touched it?

The syllables came tumbling out of my mouth as I tried to sound it out, to no avail. It was easy to understand the words; speaking them was never my strong suit. I opened it and began to flip through flimsy pages, wondering if this was another ancient text our professor had managed to procure.

A note card poked out of the middle. I tabbed to it, assuming it would be a translation of an ancient critic’s opinion of the Bible. The top of the page started to rip at my touch. I let it go, my heart starting to beat a bit faster. He wouldn’t see it. For God’s sake, the book didn’t look like it had been opened for years.

My eyes fell back to the note card. The scrawling handwriting appeared to be Professor Forsyth’s—urgent and hard to read. Despite it, I was able to make out the largest words at the top: Come to me here from Crete.

“Have you found anything yet, Judith?” Anne’s voice cut me out of the haze I’d been in. I scrambled to turn around, cheeks feeling a bit warmer.

Her eyes were scrunched, focused intensely on me. “Not yet,” I admitted, moving to slip the book behind myself.

She sighed, turning to Paul. Even sitting down, he came up past her hips. “Anything?” He shook his head no, not bothering to glance up from a pile of papers. She sighed again. “Guess we better get back to it.” I nodded.

As soon as Anne started sifting through his desk, I turned back to the book and note card. The name didn’t sound like something academic.

I scanned the rest of it before realizing that it was a poem. A poem that was unlike anything we’d read or studied in class.

The author’s name was scribbled into a corner at the bottom of the notecard—Sappho? Come to me here from Crete.

The words echoed in my mind. Each stanza jumped out at me—pulled me in in into the scenery.

Garbled words echoed from behind me, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this poem—this thing unlike anything I’d ever read. As my eyes passed over the first stanza again, I could feel the sun on my back.

I blinked.

Trees lined my vision. A sky of lightest blue bloomed overhead, while miles of trees filled to the brim with crisp, red apples claimed the space around me. A single apple sat in front of me.

What—

“Come to me,” a woman’s soft voice lulled. I turned in a full circle, trying to pinpoint it. “Come to me,” she coaxed. Was it coming from the left? I sprang to my feet, walking as fast as I could toward it. Maybe she could explain what was going on.

“Hello?” I called, glancing across the foliage.

The voice didn’t respond.

What was going on?

“Hello?” I asked a bit louder.

The sun broke through a patch of leaves, illuminating something in the distance. I squinted, trying to get a glimpse of what it was, and decided to abandon my original path. Branches began to snap at me as I pushed through the trees as fast as I could. Where was I?

“Anne? Paul?” My chest started to pound faster as I took in the new world around me. Where were Anne and Paul? Where was Professor Forsyth’s office? Was God punishing me for breaking and entering? Lord, forgive me for my sin.

My walk became a sprint when I heard something else. Music drifted across the orchard. The voices of several blended into a single hypnotic melody.

“Please—” My words fell short when I beheld what lay before me. A group of women dressed in white sat before a stone altar. The sweet scent of apples gave way to a muskier one. They sang together, faces revealing small smiles. Smoke rose from the altar, spinning across the sky that was beginning to turn orange.

I tried to move. I wanted to, but something about it all made me stop. It was beautiful. I couldn’t name the amount of time that passed as I watched and listened to the women before me. Where one song ended, another began. It was endless.

At some point, a woman with chestnut-colored hair saw me. Her eyes sparkled as she extended a hand, not saying a word. Why I was drawn to her, I couldn’t tell you. I was across the orchard and grabbing her hand before I knew what I was doing. More were starting to look at me. A beat of doubt coursed through me. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to know where I was. Were these temptresses? Was God putting me through a trial? Was–

A gentle hand on my shoulder turned me to the woman on my right. Her eyes held the same light as the last person’s. I was swept up in the feeling of peace that crashed over me as I grabbed her hand as well. She looked at me again, and I knew at that moment that there was nothing evil about this. Nothing evil could feel this gentle and loving. Electricity seemed to spark as I understood.

I didn’t know the songs, but I stood there and listened to every second of it. The flow of the songs. The buzzing of the orchard as it prepared for sleep. My heart sang with it.

“Come to me.” The nameless voice broke my trance. It came from past the orchard, a bit further down the tree line.

The women on either side of me seemed to hear. Each released a hand, gazing in the direction of the voice. I understood.

Despite my surroundings, I hurried in the direction they sent me. The sun dipped more, painting the sky purples and reds and blues. I couldn’t stop taking in the hum of everything, the harmony it all seemed to work in.

Eventually, I came upon a stream. Rose bushes lined its other bank, sending a sweet aroma. I searched for the voice up and down the bank but did not find anything. As I sat on a rock to rest, I began to hear splashing and…laughter? I scaled the remaining length of the bank to find a group of girls my age playing in the water. I froze.

They all turned to see me standing there.

A tall one giggled and splashed water in my direction. Was that an invitation? Another beckoned me over before getting pushed deeper into the water by another. Well, I had already come this far.

I stepped forward and opened my mouth. “Do any of you know where we are? I have been searching for a voice–”

I fell in a wave of water one of the girls sent at me. When I came up, everyone was gasping for laughter. For some reason, that feeling of peace washed over me again. It was as if before my journey to this land, I didn’t understand true tranquility. Somehow, these women gave it to me.

We stood there in the stream, splashing each other to our hearts’ content. When the sun finally dropped below the horizon, we climbed back onto the bank. A sudden wave of tiredness overtook me. The other girls seemed to feel it too. They sprawled out across the grass, whispering to one another as some fell asleep. I closed my eyes.

“Come to me!”

I opened them again, quickly realizing I was alone.

The sun creeped up a mountain. Had I slept all night? Where did everyone go? My heart beat faster as I stood, trying to find where the voice came from. “Come to me.” I sprang off in the other direction, determined to find who it was. The trees began to disappear, and before I knew it, a meadow of wildflowers surrounded me. I stopped. Where could the voice be?

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of a horse neighing. I looked up. Before me stood a creature of browns and whites. It seemed to survey me as I stood perfectly still. Was this my next task? Tame a wild horse?

A new voice called a name that I didn’t understand. A way back stood a few women with sacks sitting on their shoulders. One called the name again, and the horse took off toward her. She waved at me as if we’d known each other our entire lives. I ambled to them.

Once I arrived, the woman slung the sack off her shoulder, pouring a bit of the barley on the ground. The horse nickered and started eating it.

Not much later, the clopping of hooves echoed across the field.

Horses pushed forward, asking for their share of the food. The woman offered her sack to me, and I took it. She walked toward a cart sitting further away that held more sacks. Gulping, I began pouring the food in a straight line. The horses were immediately there, shoving others aside to get a chance at the delicious food. I chuckled.

It didn’t take long for the sack to run out. Should I have gotten another one?

A gentle breeze brushed the mane away from the face of the one closest to me. Her eyes snapped to mine. They were more intense than any human’s I’d looked into that day. What did that mean?

I jumped as something tapped my shoulder. It was the woman from before. She gestured to the horse, saying her name once more. I nodded, pretending I understood. The woman grinned before grabbing me and hoisting me up the side of the horse.

I didn’t have any time to think. She started sprinting away from the meadow and its inhabitants.

“Whoa!” I screamed, trying to get her to stop. She acted like she didn’t even hear me. “No!” I tried again. Still, nothing.

Whoever was putting me through this must’ve been having a good laugh. “Come to me.”

A village loomed on the horizon. Hopefully that was as far as the horse would take me. As we got closer, I realized that it was not a village. No, it appeared to be a home. Although, with all the people there, it might as well have been a village.

Women were everywhere, chopping wood, weaving tapestries, cooking food, and rushing around. The horse stopped before it reached the bustle of the estate. I hopped off her, giving a few head scratches before she started her journey back.

I wove in and out of the crowds of women, wondering if there was a single man in this land. Some people stopped to smile and wave at me, while others focused solely on their tasks. I was in awe of the multitude of activities going on in a single home. Was it some kind of palace? Did royalty live there?

I was suddenly very aware of my simple white robes.

I shook my head. It didn’t matter.

I twisted through more of the crowd, trying to understand what was going on. One woman stuck out a hand with food that I declined. Another held out a gorgeous maroon cloth that I gratefully accepted. I slung it across myself, hoping that it would look a bit more formal.

One stopped me to help her carry a vase across the courtyard. I obliged.

By the time I reached the home, I hadn’t learned much more than when I arrived. I started to walk up the steps when another woman stopped me and asked for help finding a thread she had lost.

The day wore on, and by the time the sun began to set once again, I could hardly hold myself up. A bit of indignance was starting to rise as I realized that I still had no answers. However, I needed rest before getting onto any more pressing activities.

The woman I’d been chopping wood with offered to help me get ready for the evening. Too tired to protest, I allowed it.

In truth, it was nothing compared to the chore of getting ready on a regular day. She used cords to pull my hair up into a bun and didn’t say a word about it being dry. After digging through a trunk on the far side of the tent we were under, she offered me a violet version of what I was already wearing. Once she finished, she said a short prayer.

A bit of unease creeped through me as I realized it was likely to a pagan god. Perhaps this was a punishment. But why would a punishment feel so wonderful? Why would it let me explore this beautiful world without a single need aside from finding that voice? A woman’s voice that couldn’t possibly be God’s. Perhaps, I realized, that didn’t really matter.

“Come to me.” I turned to the voice, certain that this would be the last time it called me. I thanked the woman for her help before leaving.

It was almost dark outside, but the fire in the center of the courtyard cast a glow on the women now surrounding it, all silent.

“Where are you?”

“Come to me.”

I began my search.

The voice was everywhere and nowhere—impossible to pinpoint.

“Where are you?” I didn’t realize I was tearing up until it was already letting loose. I collapsed, unable to go any further. I was exhausted. I didn’t think I could walk another step. I didn’t care about whatever punishment I may have been receiving anymore–I just wanted to find that voice.

“Come to me here from Crete.” A hand delicately pulled my chin to look upward. “To this holy temple, where your lovely apple grove stands, and your alters that flicker with incense.” Her eyes burned into me.

“And below the apple branches, cold clear water sounds, everything shadowed by roses, and sleep that falls from bright shaking leaves.” I could hear myself sobbing. “And a pasture for horses blossoms with the flowers of spring, and breezes are flowing here like honey.” She caressed my cheek.

“Come to me here.” She dropped to her knees, wiping away my tears.

“Here, Cyprian, delicately taking Nectar in golden cups mixed with a festive joy, and pour.” A cup appeared in her hands.

I took it.

The women around us raised their own glasses.

“Come to me here, Cyprian, and pour.” So I did.