Olympus Drive Book 5: Situation Normal

Chapter 74

Than

"I suppose you're all probably wondering why I've gathered you here today."

"We—"

"We're really---"

"That was rhetorical," I say, setting down my cappuccino as I sit on the round red sofa, in the screened in porch over looking the arboretum. My family is assembled on various furniture items, having been summoned for an emergency family meeting.

"I wanted to bring you here to inform you that should you ever become unable to get in contact with me, it is probably because I am in mortal danger. It will not be because I have quit speaking to you. And I do not want you to take any lack of communication from me as a prompt to collapse and wallow in self-loathing and pity in fear that you are assholes to me. Which of course you are. Constantly," I say, picking up my drink again.

"We're so sorry," my mother says, leaning forward. She's in a black robe with white embroidery, and her hair is barely pulled back.

"I didn't feel bad—"

"We know, Charon," all of us say, in unison.

"I didn't think about you at all," my wonderful older brother, trying to light a cigarette. The cigarette looks like it's been in someone's mouth.

"I know, Charon," I say, flatly.

"And that's a problem as well," my mother glares at him.

"Hyp wasn't an asshole," Bronte says.

"No. He's also asleep, and therefore not a part of this conversation," I say. My twin is curled up in a ball, asleep on the sofa next to me, under a blanket that I tucked over him when he started snoring.

"I wasn't an asshole to you," Dare says.

"Yes, yes you were. I love you though," I say, icily, "And it would have been nice if you'd noticed I was dying."

"I figured you were pouting like a little bitch."

"DARE,'" her mother smacks her in the arm.

"Ow, you've wounded me and I'm blind."

"So, are we entirely clear that I will not quit speaking to you all, at the same time, because you are assholes? Because I already know you're all assholes?" I ask.

"I didn't think that. I'd assumed you'd betrayed me," the old man says, not at all upset.

"And that's a problem as well," his wife glares at him.

"What? It was valid," he says, calmly.

"No it wasn't! Than is loyal," my mother, upset.

"It's nothing personal."

"What---anytime any of us acts at all odd you assume we've betrayed you?" Dare asks.

"Yes? What's wrong with that?" the old man asks.

"I'll talk with him later," his wife says, rolling her eyes at him.

"We're sorry we were mean to you," Thyra runs over to hug me.

"Ow---it's okay. I'm used to it," I say.

"That's the problem," my mother says, "We all were very cruel to you this week and we all are sorry. Aren't we?"

"I'm not sorry. I didn't do anything—,"

"You assumed he betrayed you!"

"We've just been over that I think that about everyone."

"Love you too, daddy," Dare says, though everyone ignores her.

"Darius Rhea-Lopez, you betrayed me last Friday."

"But you haven't considered things from my point of view—,"

"Which is?" both her parents.

"It was funny to me at the time," smiling sweetly. I'll never know how Dare manages to get that much satisfaction out of vexing her parents when she never gets to see their facial expressions. She tucks a lock of ink black hair behind an ear rife with piercings, right now studded with precious gems of rainbow colors (June). She's wearing knee high, high heeled boots, a sequined skirt that has a poodle with three heads on it, tight black tank top, push up grey bra whose lace is just barely visible, and her favorite tight studded purple leather jacket. Her nails are pained black and purple.

"You betrayed me as well," the old man says, looking at Bronte.

"Asking you to coffee and a séance at my house and not reminding you my mother might be there where she lives where you know she lives, is not betraying you, I am not having this argument with you again," Bronte says.

"How did this become no longer about me?" I ask, petting Hyp's hair because he stirred in his sleep.

"Stop it  you two---yes Than we are all very sorry, we realize we were all mean to you then ignored you—we thought you had every right to quit speaking to us," my mother says.

"Yes, so the point of this meeting is to establish I will not randomly quit speaking to all of you because you are assholes constantly it's nothing new," I groan.

"We weren't mean to you," Zag says, looking up from polishing Heartbreaker, "You're being mean to US because you called us all down here for nothing when you're really alive."

"You probably weren't nice to your brother, also we deserve this," our mother informs him.

"To be clear—the last time we spoke you were mocking me for taking my time with a collection," I say. I was crying. It was an old woman who didn't want to leave her husband. I was just taking her hand to lead her to the other side. Zag showed up and asked what was taking so long and couldn't he stab her if she wasn't dying nicely for me?

"Fred didn't," Zag says, holding up his human skull that he talks to. I know. That's not the worst thing about him.

"Zag, don't draw attention to yourselves," Dare says, feeling to pat his head. Zag hisses.

"We'll look for you next time," Edis says, coming to hug me as well.

"Please just tell someone if you can't find me," I say, hugging the girls.

"We did!"

"We told mum."

"Right—which is back to not assuming you've quit speaking to us. I'm sorry," my mother says, "If you do disappear again I will immediately interrogate mostly useless people who just assume they've been betrayed."

"Message received, all of you don't necessarily betray me," the old man mutters.

"I mean, we're keeping our options open though," Bronte says, shrugging.

"They---they ---they might," Gale points out, finishing writing in a notebook which he throws at me.

"What---is this everything I've missed? I don't owe you all this!" I cry, annoyed, looking at the shift he covered for me.

Gale sticks his tongue out at me then vanishes.

"Right. Now that that's done. I have a collection to finish," I say, standing, "Nobody wake Hyp---Satan's bells, Dare."

"What? I'm blind," Dare says, whacking Hyp with her cane with surprising accuracy.

"Than, don't go back to work," my mother says, frowning.

"It's fine," I smile a little at her, "There's something I need to finish." That mortal needs to be taught a lesson.