Deadbeat Deity
He can rule the Greek gods, but can he also be there for his son?
My mum stood in the living room doorway and told me there was someone special she wanted me to meet. I was really into the TV show I was watching, but I smiled politely and put it on mute. “Oh?”
She stepped out of the way, revealing a bearded man in shorts and a vest. “Charlie, this is your dad, Zeus.”
“Aye up, son,” said Zeus.
“…err, hi.”
“What you watching?” he asked, sitting on the seat next to me.
“TV.”
“Ah, yes, TV. I heard it’s quite popular these days.”
“Is there anything I can get you?” Mum asked us.
“I…”
“Two ouzos, please,” Zeus grinned.
“We don’t have those, sorry dear.”
“Oh… Beer will do.”
She nodded and left.
Zeus sniffed and scratched his belly. He put his hand out to me, and I thought we would shake hands.
“Remote?” he said.
I handed it to him.
He switched it to the Olympics. “Ah, good one.” And he puts his hands behind his head. “You know we used to have them, back in your old man’s days?”
“I read about it in school — ”
“Yes. but we were all naked. Imagine that. Glorious.”
I flushed red.
“Thanks,” Zeus said as he took a beer from my mum.
“So,” Zeus said, glugging his beer, “You got err, a boyfriend, girlfriend?”
“Errr…” I said, face burning brighter.
“Charlie is more… studious,” Mum said, looking half as awkward as I did.
“Oh. Shame.” He said, then opened up the second beer.
“I have to go to work now,” Mum said.
“Are you sure?” I squeaked.
Mum smiled and said, “You get to know your dad, sweetie. It’s not every day he finds time to come down from his mountain to meet his offspring.”
“You can get close you know, I won’t bite,” he laughed, then said after a swig of beer, “I’m not your grandad, ha, he tried to eat me!”
“Goodbye sweetie,” said my mum, kissing me on the cheek and leaving me in the room, with him.
“So it’s terrible, absolutely terrible,” I finished catching up with my friend about the week's events as we sat on a bench at the local park.
“Would you say,” said Tom, with an unexpectant grin, “it was a… GREEK tragedy?”
I looked at him with bewilderment, then said, “No, I would not say that.” I sighed, “I don’t have the strength.”
“Yeah… hey,” Tom said, “Why is that swan chatting up my girlfriend?”
“Oh, sorry. That’s my dad.”
We both watched as Tom’s girlfriends stormed from the lake, pursued by an over-amorous swan with a bottle of booze under his wing.
“I’m not just any swan you know,” slurred the swan, “I’m the best swan!”
“Ha, what a loser!” Tom laughed.
“Hey!” I scowled, “that’s my dad.
“I don’t know,” said Tom shaking his head, “It’s all Greek to — ”
“Shut up!” said Fiona, pointing a deadly finger at her boyfriend, “And you Charlie, when you told me your dad was a Greek god I thought he’d be cool… but your dad, he’s a gross creep!”
“Don’t make me — don’t make me — get my lightning bo — ” But the swan fell over onto his face.
I almost felt sorry for him. Tom and his girlfriend left us.
“Come on dad,” I said, lifting him up around his wing, “Let's get you home.”
“Why is there a swan in our living room watching Tv?” Mum asked me.
“Oh. That’s just dad. Some reason he’s chosen to keep the form of a swan.”
“Of course.” Mum sighed. “Look,” she said, “I know he can be a bit of a handful. But he's your dad.”
“Do you think he got the same pep talk about grandad?”
“No, Cronos was a different case — ”
“Mum, when you told me that my dad was Zeus, king of all the gods, and well, when I found out you weren’t telling a silly joke, I thought, yeah, that makes up for the fact I am a loser.”
“You’re not a — ”
“Well, everyone treats me like one. You being the obvious exception, but he’s — ”
Snoring came from the living room. They turned to look at him, light shining on his godly features from the tv in the dark.
“He is what he is,” Mum said, arm on my shoulder. “Besides, he will be heading back up the mountain soon. So you won’t have too long with him.”
I nodded.
Me and Dad sat on a bench in the park, throwing pieces of bread at the ducks around them.
I wore my usual baggy hole-ridden clothes. Dad wore a thick fleece with a cap. Not many words were spoken between us, a few polite utterances, but nothing more than the essential. Then Dad said to me: “I know I’m not what you expected.”
I frowned, feeling the cold, “Dad, I — ”
“No, I’ll tell you, son. I’m not what any of you expect. Your brothers and sisters.”
“I have brothers and sisters?”
Dad raised an eyebrow, seeming to ignore me and continued, “I blame all those nerdy old academics writing down twisted tales. They don’t get the meat of the man. The zest of Zeus.”
I cringed and nodded, not really knowing what he was getting at.
“What I’m trying to say is, son, you should be proud…” He smiled, “ that I’m your dad.”
I nodded again, turning cold.
“Promise me this, Charlie?”
I looked up into his old, dark eyes.
“When you look up at a mountain, you think of your old man sitting atop of it, looking down, at all the great and awesome stuff he’s achieved.”
I slowly nodded.
“Well, that or either,” Zeuss gave a high-pitched giggle, “think of Sisyphus and have a laugh!”
He patted me on the back, as I began to make plans in my head of never ever mentioning so much as an olive to anyone again, let alone my heritage.
