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“I’m going to be in the wedding, though.”
“And? I’m not a bridezilla. You look how you want to look. Fuck the assholes.”
Calliope laughs. “You’re saying you’re the asshole.”
I’m too full of sushi, so I climb up off the bed, stretch, and pace around Calliope’s room.
“I am kind of an asshole sometimes,” Daisy says. “I get it from my dad.”
“Your dad is a total sweetheart,” I interrupt, to be funny. Hades is a sweetheart of an uncle and a brother and a dad. Just not always how people expect.
“Of course he is.” Daisy laughs.
I end my pacing near Calliope’s window, which looks over the backyard. My dad is with Uncle Poseidon. At one time, I think they were throwing knives into a target, but now it looks like they’re either arguing about or reminiscing about the gala on the aircraft carrier. Hercules watches them like a referee, balancing an empty bowl in his hand.
Uncle Hades is lying on a blanket in the grass, one arm over his eyes and his other arm resting on Conor’s back. Aunt Persephone sits between Hades and the edge of the blanket. A small garden has sprung up in the grass. She keeps her hand on Hades’s knee and spirals her index finger over the ground like she’s stirring something invisible.
Another flower shoots up out of the earth and blooms into vivid purple.
It’s weird.
Not the growing of the flowers. That’s Aunt Persephone’s thing. And it’s not unheard of for Uncle Hades to spend time outside. It’s just that he isn’t the type to sunbathe. He’s not sunbathing, anyway. He’s fully clothed, and despite the fact that he’s supine on a blanket, he doesn’t seem to be relaxed.
“What’s going on with your dad, Daze?”
Daisy doesn’t look up from the tray of sushi balanced on Calliope’s bed. She’s holding her phone remarkably still so Calliope can keep looking at the photos. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been outside for a long time. And he doesn’t look happy about it.”
“Oh.” Daisy chooses a piece of sushi. “It’s the solar storm. You know.” She waves the sushi in a circle. “The magnetic storms. Caused by the solar flares.”
“People,” I announce in a sage tone, “cannot feel solar activity and magnetic storms. I’ve read that in several articles.”
Daisy scoff-laughs. “My dad would beg to differ. Also, he would be right. We’re very sensitive to solar activity.”
“The sun is always doing a sun, isn’t it? What a bastard.”
Calliope giggles.
“It’s doing a very special sun,” Daisy tells her, completely serious. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news coverage. We may be able to witness the brilliant colors of the Aurora Borealis at certain surprise times over the next week if we drive to someplace very dark. And if we’re very lucky.”
“But…” Calliope’s expression sobers. “I feel bad. If it’s giving you and your dad a headache.”
“It’s not giving me a headache. It’s more of a nag.” Daisy purses her lips. “It’s worse for my dad. He described it as tension like a motherfucker, if I recall correctly.”
“Oh, no!” Calliope says. “And I’ve been up here complaining about?—”
“Shh. He would be so sad if he thought he’d disrupted our bonding session.”
“But—”
“So sad!” Daisy repeats. “My mom has it handled.”
“Is she…” Down in the yard, my dad, Poseidon, and Hercules stroll over to the blanket. Poseidon sits near Hades’s feet. My dad hovers, looking over them. Hercules ambles, tossing his bowl up in the air and catching it. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. “Growing him a sympathy bouquet?”
“She’s repurposing his energy,” says Daisy.
“How?” Calliope asks.
