I was holding a piece of Atlantis. The real Atlantis. I knew it the way I knew the tide would rise and the sun would set. Proof, the waves whispered.
“Call my dad,” I said. “Call him right now.”
Chapter Twenty
#20. BOX OF SHEET MUSIC, TITLES IN GREEK
None of us played the piano or any instruments at all, so when I found the sheet music in his closet, I was stumped. Did it belong to someone else? But then I saw the lightly penciled notes written in the margins in Greek, and I thought they must have something to do with us.
I thought my mom might notice if I took it all, so I looked through the yellowing, fragile pages until I found one with a title in Greek and English—“Moonlight Sonata,” (Piano Sonata No. 14, First Movement)—and added it to my growing pile. The page was as thin and brittle as an autumn leaf, and something about it made me feel melancholy.
OUR CALLS WOULDN’T GO THROUGH to my Dad and Ana, so we ended up sending a series of text messages, one every ten minutes or so until Ana texted that they were on the ferry and to hold tight. After that it took them more than four hours to get home, and by then I was a writhing mess of nerves.
The whole thing was so implausible, it made me feel like I was caught in a whirlpool. What were the chances that someone who had heard Vasilios’s story would (a) see Theo filming, (b) ask him what we were doing, and then (c) point us to the one man who had the same theory my father did? Not even the most rational part of my brain could come up with an explanation for all those things happening. And then add to it that it had happened in the very place that my dad had first learned about Atlantis?
Brain explosion.
Theo and I waited up on the terrace, keeping watch for our parents while he attempted to edit the day’s film and I scrolled obsessively on my phone, bouncing around between articles and websites devoted to Atlantis. It had been a long time since I’d truly studied Atlantis, and I was surprised to see all of the new theories and speculative articles that had bubbled up over the years. I was particularly interested in new speculation regarding some of Plato’s word choices, and I took a few notes in my filming binder.
After a while, Theo gave up. He said it was impossible to focus on things like playback and color grading when a chunk of Atlantis sat perched in the six inches between us. It was hard to focus on anything.
Dax started calling before sunset, but I hit ignore all three times. I couldn’t even consider taking his calls right now. If I answered, he’d hear my excitement, and then what would I say?
The sun had begun falling when Theo stood, shielding his eyes with his hand as he peered down Main Street.
“They’re here!” He slung his camera onto his shoulder, pulled me to my feet, and we ran up the street to meet them. Ana looked frazzled, her hair a frizzy cloud around her face, her eyes tired. My dad looked even worse. His clothes were rumpled, and the dark circles were back under his eyes, but he was moving fast, energy darting off him in waves that I could feel from several feet away.
When he saw us, he pushed past a slow-moving crowd, his eyes focused on me. The sunset had caught his face, and he looked ablaze. “Liv? Liv, is it true?”
“Dad!” I ran the rest of the way to meet him. I’d left my shoes, sketchbook, and oil pastels in a messy pile, but the orichalcum was clutched tightly in my hand, the stone pavement warm and smooth under my feet. My heart was fluttering like a moth.
Theo had said I should be the one to show it to him. I still couldn’t believe that Vasilios had allowed us to bring the orichalcum home with us. True, it had been physically difficult for me to let go of and I had promised cross my heart and hope to die that I would return it to him in perfect condition, but he hadn’t acted worried. He’d seemed almost relieved, grateful that someone was taking it from him.
And now I got to be the one to give the evidence to my dad. I didn’t waste a second. I pulled out the cloth napkin and pushed the whole thing into his waiting hands. The pathway was clogged, and people kept bumping into us, but none of us moved. We just watched as he unwrapped it. Me, Ana, and the camera. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything except watch the way his face was transforming. He looked nine years old. Then twenty years old. Then forty. He looked more like my dad than I’d ever seen him.
“Liv…”
My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I couldn’t stop thinking of how many times he’d drawn Atlantis. How he’d memorized the rings. How he knew exactly how many to create from the center. All that time I’d spent sitting next to him, drawing maps; I thought about all his piles of books. How we’d read every book there ever was, how the librarian let us keep some of the old ones because we were checking them out so often.
All the hours we’d spent reading and thinking and searching about Atlantis, it had culminated in this moment, a small island of people gathered around something I’d never believed would happen. Of something that no one but him had fully believed in. It made me ashamed. And grateful.
Proof.
Proof.
“Liv, how did you… ? How?”
I told him the whole story in a rush, not minding the commotion around us, not even minding the camera, and when we were done, he wasn’t looking at the orichalcum anymore. He was looking at me, big tears welling up in his eyes. “This is more than a person can ask for. Liv, this is because of you. And, Theo, thank you.”
“It was nothing, boss,” Theo said, his voice a little choked behind the camera. Even Ana stopped wringing her hands for a moment and placed them on my father’s back, her face shining. Regardless of what came next, this moment was special.
I didn’t want to break the spell, but there was one more detail I had to tell my dad. “Vasilios, the man who found this, he said he’ll take us to the exact location tomorrow. Theo and I talked; it can be the final scene in the documentary.”
“And tomorrow I will dive.” He said it almost to himself, and Ana and I exchanged a look before realizing what he meant.
“You’ll dive the location?” I said. “But… I thought you said you needed better equipment.”
“If I know the exact location, exact,” he insisted, “then it is worth a try. And if we do it tomorrow, then we have time to submit the footage with the film. Right, Theo?”
He lowered his camera slowly, but instead of the excitement I expected, his features were laced with concern. “Right. But I’m not certified, so I can’t go with you. You’ll have to learn how to use the GoPro and—”
“Nico, no,” Ana cut in. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t do this alone. Alone will not work.”
“It will be a quick look,” my father said. “I cannot miss this opportunity. Can you imagine if I saw something? What that would do for the documentary, what that would do for us?” He was looking at me as he said it.
“Not a good idea,” Ana said.
“Liv, you will come with me!”
Theo nearly dropped his camera and had to scramble to save it.
All the excitement and nerves and adrenaline that had been pumping through me screeched to a sudden and painful halt. “What?” I broke eye contact with my dad.
“You’re scuba certified—your mother told me! And you’ve spent so much time filming with us, you can be the one to do the camerawork.” Mom again. She’d told him? Had she told him about the nightmares, too? Dizziness washed over me.