Persephone’s Fall – Page 39
“So…” Demeter says.
Silence. Zeus’s fork clicks against his plate a few times. I stare at my pasta. This is the game. Demeter says “So…” and then waits. Sooner or later, I’ll bite. Or Zeus will. Neither of us has ever been very good with long, uncomfortable silences, and Demeter knows it. She uses it, on both of us. Always has. I don’t know why my father stays with her.
I don’t want dad to have to start my argument, and I can feel him tensing up, so I get it over with.
“So what, Demeter?”
Demeter draws in a breath and across the table, Zues closes his eyes. It’s the only acknowledgement he gives, though. Beyond that, he just keeps right on working away at his pasta. I want to laugh, but it’s probably not a good idea right at this moment.
“So tommorow’s the big day. Are you excited?”
“Terrified.” That much is true, but not for the reasons she’d think.
“You should be. You’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, Persephone. This boy Hades, he’s so standoffish and rude. He’s made you distant. We never talk anymore”
“We didn’t talk much to begin with. Hades hasn’t changed me.”
“He has! Something has, at any rate. You’re not the same Persephone I remember. You’re not being the smart little girl I remember.”
“I’m twenty-six, Demeter. The little girl is gone.” I wonder about that, though. I saw here there in the mirror, not so long ago.
“This marriage is going to be a failure. Oh, everyone there will know it. They’ll smile and shake your hand and give you gifts, but simply everyone will be talking behind your back, making wagers on how long until the divorce. He’s not right for you, Persephone. You’re of a different class. Everyone knows it.” Demeter’s voice is thick, almost like she’s gloating. That’s what gets me.
“Who cares what they think?! They’re worthless! Every single stupid person you’ve invited to this wedding can go to hell, Demeter. They can rot there. I don’t care what their opinion of me is.”
Demeter pretends to be shocked. “Persephone!”
“Enough with this bullshit, Demeter. Stop pretending that you give a shit about me, or about my future. The only reason you care that everyone will be talking is because of how it will reflect on you. Admit it. Admit it! I’m just another one of your trophies, and you’re angry because you can’t own me anymore.”
For the first time that I can remember, Demeter looks legitimately shaken up. Legitimately angry. She opens her mouth to say something, and I can see in her eyes that this will end it. Whatever she’s about to say, it will be the last thing she says to me, because once she sets me off we’ll never speak again. I’m scared, a bit… losing a parent is frightening whether you like them or not. I’m also looking forward to it. I’m almost smiling.
That’s when Zeus brings the palm of his hand down suddenly against the table, a flat smacking sound that catches us both by surprise and makes us jump. He’s squares his shoulders, looks first at his wife, then at his daughter. I can feel the full weight of his authority pressing down on me. Zeus doesn’t do this often. It’s impressive.
“Enough,” He says. “Persephone, have you finished your dinner?”
“Yes daddy.” I haven’t called him that in years. Years. My voice sounds like a little girl’s. Funny how quickly we revert, in some situations.
“Why don’t you go get some rest, then? You have a big day tommorow.”
“Yes daddy.” I’m not afraid of Zeus… not exactly. He would never lift a finger to harm me, certainly. But there’s something within him. So much power. I’ve seen him use it to turn other executives into nervous little boys. For me, there’s no fear, but I can’t disobey him. I’m not even able to conceive of it. So I get up from the table.
As I move down the hall, toward the door that will take me out to the elevators, I hear the clink of silverware against china. Zeus has resumed eating. I’ll never understand him. I’ll never understand either of them. But in that moment, for a split second, I’m so grateful it makes me weak in the knees, because now I understand why the information Hades has holds any power over me.
For all his faults, Zeus still loves me. He dismissed me when the natural parental instinct would be to keep me there as long as possible. He loves me enough to give me that.
He loves me enough to let me go.
