Persephone’s Fall – Page 47
Hades has always been there for me.
I’m not exaggerating. Literally, my entire life. I can’t even remember when I met Hades. We were just kids. It was before either of us had started school, I know that much, because I distinctly remember crying the weekend before I had to go off to kindergarten. Hades kept telling me that it would be okay. That it would be fun. Pudgy little child-Hades, not yet grown tall and thin, already comfortable in his role as the shoulder to cry on. Already there for me.
Part of me is still sitting in the alley with Hades now, twelve minutes before our wedding. That part is currently blacking out. The rest of me is rushing back in time.
There’s Hades using his own allowance to buy me Cheetos, because Demeter doesn’t permit junk-food in our house, and he knows I like them.
There’s Hades helping me study Modern Asian History every single night, a subject not even taught in his school, because I came sobbing to him that I was going to fail the class.
There’s Hades, taking me to my junior prom on last-minute notice because the asshole I gave my virginity to decided to break up with me three weeks beforehand, and I couldn’t bear the mortification of showing up without a date.
There’s Hades, holding my hair back for me while I puke in the toilet, telling me it’s okay, that he won’t tell my parents I’ve been drinking again, because he knows that they’ll send me to a clinic which will only make things worse.
There’s Hades, listening to me bitch about how stupid Auriga is. Supporting me, even though inside he must want nothing more than to grab me and slap me and ask me how, how, how can I keep ignoring him when all he’s ever done, he’s done for me?
It occurs to me now how little I’ve appreciated Hades. Not for the things he’s done. Truth is, Hades is a guy, and I’m a girl with a cute face and perky tits. Guys have done things for me all my life. No, what stands out about Hades is not that he was always there for me. It’s that he’s never expected anything in return. He’s always been there, because he loves me, and he’s never done any of it under the mistaken belief that he could somehow make me love him back.
My whole life, Hades has told me one lie, and he did that to keep me alive. Everything else he has ever said to me has been the truth. Now he says he loves me. He says he loves me for who I am, whatever I am. He loves me laughing. He loves me screaming. Happy or suicidal. Sleeping with someone else. Complaining about how there’s no one good to sleep with. Teasing him, taunting him, acting like a bitch. He just… loves me. For me. I guess he always has, and I guess probably he always will.
How have I never noticed this?
The greying world floods once again with color, and there are words echoing in my ears. Not Hades asking me if I’m all right, though I’m dimly aware of that. No, the words I’m hearing came from Zeus, not half an hour ago.
“Be honest with yourself,” he said. “Be honest with yourself. It will help you be honest with Hades.”
There’s something inside me, growing, pushing, trying to get out. Be honest with myself, and it will help me be honest with Hades. That was the advice my father gave me on my wedding day. It seems like good advice. God help me, I’m going to follow it.
