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My drunk ass keeps arguing with him until my eyes close. I’m not sure if it’s him or me who rolls me onto the couch. The last thing I feel before I’m out is a blanket. It lands softly, and gets tucked in tight.
11
DAISY
Everyone thinksI’m going to die.
They’re probably not wrong. It’s what I’ve been coming to terms with in California, in relative solitude. Having the entire family gather ’round like I might bite it at any second is a change of pace, to say the least.
Being at home doesn’t make me any less tired. It makes memoretired. I can’t stay awake for most of the first day, and most of the morning on the second.
And when I wake up, I can’t immediately have sex with Hercules.
Which is a major problem.
That, I’m pretty sure, was the only thing stopping my imminent death.
Funny, right? Sex for survival? Ha, ha.
Plus, at home, there’s a certain pressure to act like I’mnotdying. Otherwise, everyone gets very morbid and sad about it and there are a lot of tears in everyone’s eyes, and I can’t with that. This is the entire reason I moved to California. I didn’t want them to see me like this, and I didn’t want to seethemlike this, tense and worried and making secret battle plans when they think I can’t hear.
On the second afternoon, Artemis cuddles next to me on the couch, and we watch the drama of our family play out in all the little globes of light. Artemis has brought one over and shoved it in the corner of the couch.
“Those things are hilarious,” I whisper. “I only have one of them in California.”
“They’re kind of nice, though,” she whispers back. “Although given the circumstances, I’m not sure it’s helping the atmosphere.” My cousin makes big, sad eyes at me.
I slap her lightly, which is about all I have the energy for.
“I could die,” I point out. Hurts my chest to say it like a joke, but…I could. That’s why I’m here. And if I’m going to be here, I might as well say it. “And you’re making jokes about the lighting.”
“Pollux was the one who started the jokes, not me.”
“He was making jokes about balls, not the lighting at my living funeral.”
Artemis rolls her eyes. “This isnota living funeral. Look.”
She points across the living room, through the dining room and into the kitchen, where Uncle Zeus is arguing with Uncle Poseidon. They think they’re being quiet, but their voices carry. They always do.
“—go there with some rope, put her on the train, and—”
“I amnotgoing to the mountain with rope. Jesus, Poseidon. You’ve had days to think about this, and the best you can come up with is a kidnapping?”
Poseidon raises both hands in the air. “Sometimes it works out for the best.”
“With Demeter? You think kidnapping our sister, Demeter, would work out for the best?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“That’snever going to happen,” I tell Artemis.
“I don’t know.” She eats an apple slice from the bowl she brought. “Uncle Poseidon seems pretty convincing.”
“You’re not looking at the whole space. It’s not going to happen.” I point at my mom and dad, who are sitting at the end of the table in the living room. The lights get progressively brighter on the way to the kitchen. Zeus and Poseidon are brightest. Mom and Dad in half-shadow. It’s enough to see that my dad is looking at my mom like he has never heard two more foolish people speak in his entire life.
My mom shrugs.
My dad pretends to die.
