by S. L. Stacy
I’m not ready to let him go, just yet.
Jimmy finally parks in front of a two-story, Victorian-style house with pale blue siding and a white awning. A pebbled walkway leads up to the house, flanked by neatly trimmed hedges. I triple-check my disguise in the visor mirror, and we get out.
“Siobhan, honey!”
When we knock on the front door, Mother Blondie opens it, surprise and relief comingling in her clear blue eyes. With these two words barely out of her mouth, she throws her arms around me, reeling me in for a mama bear hug.
“Oh, sweetie, this is such a wonderful surprise,” she cries, releasing me. “But what’s gotten you so distracted at school that you haven’t called, or even texted us, in days? Honestly, honey, we were worried sick about you!”
“I…I know,” I say lamely, trying to look apologetic. “I felt horrible when campus police showed up this morning. I guess I just hadn’t realized how worried you guys would be. You’re right—I should have called. I’m sorry I was so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, sweetie,” Mrs. Elliot insists with a strained, almost hysterical, laugh, “just a little forgetful, it seems. I know how dedicated you are to your schoolwork and the sorority. I don’t expect hour-long calls every night, but a check in now and then is nice.”
“You’re right.” Already, my chest is starting to constrict, the repercussions of my actions closing in on me. Coming here was a mistake. “I…I’ll do better. Anyway, I wanted to surprise you today. I really miss you guys.” I force a smile.
“Oh, we’ve missed you too, of course. Come in, come in. And hello, Jimmy,” she adds, looking startled, as though she just noticed him standing there. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Hi, Mrs. Elliot.” He accepts a brief but affectionate hug from her. “You look great. Not a day over twenty-five.”
“Oh, stop. And it’s Dana, please. Aidan, dear!” she sings out as she herds us into the kitchen. “Siobhan’s home! I’ll go get your father,” she tells me, opening up the basement door. “I don’t think he heard me down in the man cave.”
“Okay.” I give an uncertain smile. “What now?” I whisper to Jimmy as Dana Elliot disappears down the stairs. “Will there be a town festival in Siobhan’s honor? What time does the parade start?” He says nothing, merely raising his eyebrows. “Kidding.”
“Be nice,” he mouths to me. The basement stairs creak, and I put my couldn’t-be-happier-to-see-my-parents face back on. Father Blondie is leading the way, Mom following closely at his heels.
“Hi, honey.” Before I know it, I’m swept up into Aidan Elliot’s sturdy arms. Stubble scrapes my cheek as he pecks a brief kiss there. “It’s so good to see you. You gave your mother quite the scare, you know,” he adds as we step out of the hug. Although he sounds almost amused, relief sparkles in his light brown eyes.
“You gave us both a scare,” Dana corrects him, going over to the fridge.
He rolls his eyes. “I figured you were just busy with school work and sorority stuff. When we were in school, Dana, we talked to our parents once a week. If that.”
“We didn’t have smart phones.”
“Mom’s right,” I put in, sitting down at the marble island in the center of the kitchen. “School’s been really busy, but I should have texted. I feel really bad.”
“All’s well that ends well,” Aidan insists. “We’re happy you’re home. And how are you, young man?” He and Jimmy shake hands, Jimmy wincing slightly. “How’s school?”
“Oh, I’m, uh, not in school.” Once his hand is free again, Jimmy shakes it out a bit, flexing his fingers. Siobhan’s dad has turned his back to us, getting some glasses and plates out of the cupboard. “I am working, though. Bartending.”
“Bartending,” Aidan repeats, skeptical. He sets the glasses on the island, his wife filling them to the brim with iced tea. “That’s fine for now but isn’t going to lead to a very lucrative career.”
“Don’t nag him, Aidan.” Dana plants a glass pan of brownies in front of us, peeling off the plastic wrap covering the top. “They just got here.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Jimmy’s in a band, too,” I tell them, helping myself to a brownie, “called Search and Destroy. They’re really good.”
Jimmy looks a little surprised to hear me say this. Siobhan’s mother gives him a smile that’s more of a grimace, while her dad nods gravely. “That sounds...distracting.”
Welp. I guess that wasn’t the thing to bring up.
“That’s so nice, James.” Dana sits down next to me, tucking a section of ash blonde hair behind her ear. “What kind of music do you play?”
Jimmy almost chokes on his iced tea. “Uh, lots of stuff, really. Mostly folk music.” The Elliots seem to readily accept this lie. Siobhan’s father visibly relaxes, taking a seat on the other side of the island.
“That’s so great.” Dana Elliot is positively beaming now. I can see where Blondie gets her bubbliness from. “I’m glad to hear you’re still doing music. It was always such a joy to watch you in the marching band in high school. And to watch you cheer, honey,” she adds, turning that effervescent smile on me. Sweet Jesus. I might puke yet. “How’s everything going at the sorority house? Last time we talked, it sounded like there was a lot of drama.”
Drama? That’s the understatement of the century. “Fine,” I say instead, setting my half-eaten brownie on a plate. “I love my sorority. I mean, there’s always some drama or other happening, but we manage it. We’re...sisters, after all.” Smiling, I take a swig of iced tea. If only it were acid, then it could burn away any trace of the ridiculous words that have just come out of my mouth. I love my sorority? We’re sisters after all? Kill me.
“That’s good to hear.” Aidan snatches another brownie out of the pan. I think he’s on his third. “And how was that biochem test? We know you were worried about it.”
“Oh, it was...uh…”
“Come on, tell them.” Jimmy hops to my rescue, giving “my” parents a proud grin. “She aced it, of course. Always does.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful,” Dana exclaims. “And see, you shouldn’t get so worked up about your exams. You get so worried, and you always end up doing well.” She breaks off a corner of the brownie on her plate, popping it into her mouth.
“I guess so. It helps me to get a little anxious about it, though. Motivates me to study.” I feel like this might be true for Siobhan, and it’s true for me, too.
“Okay. Just don’t make yourself too crazy. You’re young. You should be having some fun.”
“But not so much fun that you forget to call us.” Aidan winks.
“Good point,” Dana agrees, topping off her iced tea. “Well, I hope I haven’t ruined your appetites too much with the brownies, because I’m making a lasagna for dinner. You’re both staying for dinner, right?”
“Sure,” I say quickly. “Of course.”
“We are?” Jimmy meets my gaze across the island, his eyebrows raised.
“Oh. Oh, right. Jimmy’s having dinner at his parents, but I can stay.”
“It’s not that, but you kind of have to get back to school, right? We did what we came to do, see our parents”—he flashes the Elliots a gracious smile— “but we have to head back soon. You have that...party to go to.”
“Party?”
“That sorority party thing.”
Sorority party thing? That’s the best he can come up with? “Oh, that.” I shrug. “I can get out of that.”
“No, you can’t,” he practically barks. “Victoria will be mad.”
“Like I care if Victoria’s mad.” I glance warily at Siobhan’s parents.
“If you have to get back, honey, we understand,” Dana says, smiling. Always smiling. “But we really hope you’ll stay. You too, James, but of course it makes sense you’ll want to eat with your family. Gabriela and Rich should come, too!” Her smile widens even further at this idea. “Give your parents a call. Invite them o
ver. Aidan and I haven’t seen them for—”
“No!” Jimmy and I say it at the same time, startling each other, and Dana. Her brow furrows. “No, that’s okay,” Jimmy continues in a milder tone. “I think they were hoping for more of a date night together. I’d love to stay for dinner, if you’ll have me.”
“You really don’t have to,” I tell him through gritted teeth. His strained expression suggests he thinks otherwise.
“Oh, wonderful.” Clapping her hands together, Dana starts clearing the table. “You two go on and relax in the living room, and I’ll get it started.”
“What are you doing?” Jimmy hisses at me on our way into the den. Aidan has returned to his “man cave” where, I’m assuming from the occasional shouts from the basement, he’s watching sports. I can hear Dana clanking around in the kitchen. “We don’t need to prolong this. The longer we’re here, the longer you have to keep up this charade. The more of a chance we’ll make a mistake, fuck this whole thing up!”
“It’ll be fine.” I brush off his concerns, going over to their bookcase. “It would be weird if their daughter didn’t want to stay for dinner. A home-cooked meal from mommy? Yes, please. Plus, we’re not done here yet. I have one last thing Victoria needs me to do,” I remind him. Unzipping my purse, I lift out a canister of loose tea leaves.
Jimmy arches an eyebrow. “Victoria sent us on a half hour detour to buy them some tea?”
“It’s a special Olympian tea,” I explain, “that eases worry. It will keep them calm, complacent. For, you know. When they don’t hear from their daughter for a while.”
“Wait.” Pulling me close, he lowers his voice. “This is Victoria’s plan? To drug them into complacency? I thought we were just putting their minds at ease until she comes up with a better plan.”
“It’s not that bad. It’s a low-grade sedative. Like chamomile tea...with a little more punch.” Olympians have all kinds of elixirs. Uppers, downers, aphrodisiacs; ones that harm or heal, that enhance memory or erase it. If you can think it, we probably have it.
Jimmy works his jaw. “I don’t like this.”
I sigh. “I don’t either, really, but what else are we supposed to do? This is the job we—I—came here to do. I’m seeing it through. End of discussion.” Shrugging away from him, I shove the canister back in my bag.
Grumbling, Jimmy goes over to throw himself on the Elliot’s white leather couch. I turn back to the bookcase, looking over the titles. It’s a motley collection of self-help books, mystery novels, and a smattering of paperback romances. Tee-hee. Naughty. There are also several books on science and engineering, and an entire shelf dedicated to family photo albums. I select one of these and join Jimmy on the couch.
“God, you are so nosey,” he says, stretching an arm across the top of the couch.
“This is called research,” I counter, opening it up. Still, as I flip one plastic-covered page after the other, guilt clenches my stomach. I feel a little like I’m snooping. Well, I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing. But I can’t just pass up this opportunity for a peek into PB’s past.
And most of the pictures in this album are of Siobhan. I guess that’s one of the many advantages of being an only child. Her parents have basically chronicled every moment of her life since she was a baby. Every birthday, Halloween, Christmas, first day of school, and milestone of any kind captured here for posterity. Little Siobhan was a scrawny girl with blonde pigtails, dimples, and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Pretty adorable, I must admit.
Later in the album, there are lots of pictures with Anna and Jimmy in them. And first dates, first car, football games, homecoming dances. Prom. Graduation. The prototypical life of an American, middle-class teen, I suppose.
And yet, despite the love that clearly went into archiving all these memories, despite being surrounded by friends and fun and light and laughter at every step of the way, Siobhan looks rather resigned in these later photos. Gone is the constantly smiling girl with freckles and pigtails. As a teen, Siobhan looked much the same as she does now: petite in stature, pin-straight blonde hair, violet eyes. Pretty, if not gorgeous. But she’s not smiling. Even when she is, it looks forced, strained, a desperate shine in her unusually colored eyes. Pleading, almost, for someone to notice that something’s wrong.
I wonder if the Elliots ever noticed the change in their daughter’s demeanor. I’m guessing it has to do with meeting one of our kind for the first time, an Olympian named Eros. On this world, he’s been going by Jasper. At the time, she wouldn’t have known who or what he was. What she was. Just that, after their brief, first meeting, he left her with some pretty strange powers.
“She looks kind of sad here.” Jimmy notices it, too.
I slam the album with a huff. “Please. What did Miss Sweet Sixteen have to be sad about? Her parents take too many pictures of her?”
He frowns at me, knowing full well we both know what instigated the change. I get up, re-shelving the book.
“Okay. I know,” I admit, “but there are worse things than having special powers awakened. Like being—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he talks over me, standing up. “We all know about your troubled childhood.” Although he cracks a half-smile, there’s a gleam of sympathy in his hazel eyes. “And yes, it’s worse than what happened to her. But everyone has their shit to deal with.”
“Whatever. I don’t feel bad for her.” The words ring hollow, even to me. The pang of guilt I felt earlier is turning into a full-blown case of regret and panic. One of my kind already ruined her life once. And she has parents who, despite being too content in their nauseatingly traditional gender roles, are genuinely nice people. They were there for Siobhan every step of the way growing up. I’m the one responsible for taking away their daughter. Their only child. What the hell is wrong with me?
What have I done?
“Pat?” Jimmy studies my shell-shocked face. “Are you alright?”
“Pat?”
I jump. Jimmy curses under his breath. Turning, I see Dana Elliot hovering in the doorway.
“Who’s Pat?” she wonders, coming into the living room. She’s still smiling, of course, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Pale eyebrows raised, she looks from me to Jimmy and back again.
“Pat?” I give her what I hope is a confused look as my mind gropes for a reasonable-sounding explanation. Or, at this point, any explanation. “Oh! You mean pet. He said pet.” Jimmy meets my gaze, his wide eyes shouting I did?!
“He did?” Dana looks as though she doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disturbed. “How...odd.”
“It’s nothing.” I smile reassuringly. “Just an inside joke. It’s silly, really.”
The expression on her face tells me she couldn’t agree more. “Anyway, the lasagna’s almost done, and I have some salad and bread on the table. Come.” She waves us into the dining room.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” I take the tea out again, hooking my purse over the back of a chair. “This is for you.”
“Oooo, tea!” She accepts the container from me, her face lighting up, way more excited about tea than anybody should ever be. “I love tea. Citrus and lavender, with lemon, orange, and a hint of sage,” she reads from the label. What the ingredients fail to list is the dash of poppy extract for maximum mellowing out. “Yum. I’ll make some for us after dinner.”
Aidan emerges from the basement, looking sullen. I guess the sports didn’t go so well. We all sit around the mahogany table. Jimmy helps himself to some salad, then offers the bowl to me. “Here you go,” he whispers in my ear. “Pet.”
“Shut up.” I jerk the bowl out of his hands. “Thanks, boo.” He makes a face at me before forking some lettuce into his mouth.
The food is great. I haven’t eaten this well in months. Between splitting my time pretending to be Ares’s partner-in-crime, two-timing him with the Gamma Lambda Phis, and worrying about my brother, I haven’t had time to think about things like where my food is coming fr
om and whether it’s good for me. Without any family of my own on this world, I’ve never really had a genuine, sit-down, home-cooked meal like this. I like it. I can practically taste the love cooked into every gooey layer of Dana’s lasagna.
Jimmy had been worried about staying longer, our ability to keep up the game. But it’s going well. Maybe too well. There’s no tension or awkwardness in our dinner conversation. Like the red wine Dana keeps pouring into our glasses, the conversation flows easily, wrapping me up in a steady, happy warmth. When I smile at the Elliots’ stories, it’s not forced anymore. Aidan has me laughing so hard my ribs ache.
Everything starts to feel comfortable, familiar somehow. I almost forget I haven’t known Siobhan’s parents my entire life. For one blissful hour, I forget what I came here to do, and why. I’m no longer Apate, goddess of deceit, feared and hated by all, even her own mother. Here, I get to be Siobhan Elliot, the Golden Child, loved and adored unconditionally. I get to have a nice, loving family. A cozy, ordinary home.
With the Olympians, nothing comes free; there’s always a price, a catch. Our fellow gods may not have the same power of illusion that my brother and I possess, but they still have their share of tricks up their sleeves. But here at the Elliots’, everyone wears their hearts on their sleeves, no tricks to be found.
“Anyway…” Pausing, Mom takes another sip of wine. We’ve just gotten done laughing over the events of last Christmas, in which Nana accidentally hit up the eggnog a little too much before church and had some choice words for the pastor. Oh, that Nana. “This Christmas, your Aunt Ellen and Uncle Joe have invited us up to their lodge in the Poconos.”
“I…their lodge?” Instead of the excitement they should have brought, her words douse me like a bucket of ice water. “What? When?”
“They have that cabin up in the mountains, honey. You know that.” Dana frowns. “We’re going up there for Christmas. You and Anna should come for a few days, too,” she adds, turning to Jimmy. “You’re always welcome.”
