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Percy stared out across the water. He’d always been drawn to it as a boy and he wondered why. He lived closer to the Queensboro Bridge, further north, but today he had a feeling he needed to be here: the Brooklyn Bridge. The water was calm and serene, the sky painted with hues of pink and gold, a cool breeze blowing through occasionally. He could hear the rush of cars faintly from the bridge and people taking an evening walk across it, both locals and tourists alike. Lights along the bridge shone like a long string of Christmas lights, lighting the scene. Despite the bustle of the city, Percy felt calm, the most relaxed he’d felt in days.
If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the hustle of the city across from him. People rushing about in jackets against the cool of the evening, vendors calling out to passing pedestrians, the click of shoes against cold concrete, the smell of food wafting through the air. He could picture his apartment on the Upper East Side, his expecting mom sat on the couch with a hot cup of chamomile tea; his step-dad, Paul, working hard in his office. If he concentrated enough, he could smell the scent of freshly baked blue cookies and the memories that came with them.
Percy opened his eyes again. The sun had set further and now it was a regal purple, fit for royalty. The lights on the buildings glowed like pixels, little squares of light scattered like stars. Around him, the trees whispered, murmuring secrets in his ear. The water lapped at the shore, calming him. Today was rough, but Percy had come here to relax, be free of his responsibilities, if only for a bit. The birds chirped faintly in the treetops, preparing to sleep, but the city still shone and stirred with life. Looking up into the sky, he could see the stars start to come out. They were few, but beautiful nonetheless, reminders that we are small, tiny beings in this vast expanse of the universe. Shoving his hands in his pockets as the breeze grew stronger, he took a deep breath. Percy had always loved the cold, whether it be the water or the air around him. By now, the sky had dimmed to a deep blue, like the depths of the ocean. Crickets and cicadas sang in the bushes and trees, filling the air with their song.
Percy stared off into the distance and remembered the last time he was out in a forest like this one: surrounded by trees with a clear view of the ocean. He used to go to a cabin up in Montauk, Long Island with his mom when he was younger. The cicadas and crickets chirped all the same, but the splash of the ocean was louder, yet more calming. There were no big city lights down that end of the island so you could see more constellations, or even the planets at different times of the year. The smell of campfires was almost constant down by the cabins, and Percy couldn’t get rid of it no matter how hard he tried, but not that he complained. He and his mom spent happy weekends and summers alone at their cabin, away from the crowd and noise of Manhattan. The cabin was always warm and cosy, the perfect temperature, earthy and homely, foreign yet familiar.
Suddenly, there was a rustle in the bushes behind him. Percy jerked out of his memories, turning around frantically searching his surroundings for who could be hiding among the bushes. To his left, a girl tumbled out, a navy New York Yankees hat falling off her head. She had wavy blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and was wearing an orange t-shirt, jeans and a denim jacket. The t-shirt had some strange writing on it that Percy managed to read clearly as “Camp Half-Blood” even in the dim lighting. She abruptly stood up as she saw Percy looking at her curiously and brushed herself off, snatching up the cap as she did.
“Percy Jackson, I assume?” she asked, “Annabeth Chase.”
Percy squinted, why did that name sound familiar? And the camp?
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Yes, but we had to wipe your memory to keep you safe. Here.” She pulled something out of her pocket and handed him a small vial of some kind of liquid. “Drink this.”
Percy side-eyed her, reluctant to, but some gut feeling told him to trust her, so he did. The liquid was sweet but sickly. The aftertaste was worse and was indescribable. Percy popped his ears and blinked a couple times. Looking back at Annabeth his eyes widened, like a goldfish.
“Annabeth,” he whispered, “It’s you.”
He ran at her and wrapped her in a bear hug as the memories pieced themselves back together, their adventures, their jokes, their friends and most importantly, their love.