“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Cassandra rinsed a plate and set it in the rack to dry. She thought she’d already scrubbed everything in the sink, and if she hadn’t, so what? They were family germs.
“Hours go by without me thinking about anything,” she said brightly. “Tasks pop up and keep my mind on other stuff.” She frowned. “Life goes on.”
“I wish you’d—talk to us more.”
“You didn’t raise me to talk. You raised me to figure things out for myself, which is what I’m doing.” A snap crept into her voice, and she bit down. “Besides, Dad isn’t the best at heavy-lifting emotional stuff, you know? He’s been in the garage restoring the same armoire practically since Aidan died.”
“He just doesn’t know what to say, Cassie.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t know how to restore furniture.”
Her mom laughed. “Who knows what he’s doing out there? Stripping paint? Huffing fumes? I don’t even want the damned thing.”
“You will when I’m finished.” The smell of paint thinner preceded her father into the kitchen. Cassandra didn’t need to turn around to know he had goggles around his neck and was dressed like a walking drop cloth. “Or maybe we could put it in Cassie’s room.”
“I don’t want it, either. Besides, you and Henry would break your backs getting it up the stairs.”
Her father flexed, considering. He usually took her advice on these things. Even when it didn’t come from a vision.
“Maybe if you got Ody to help,” her mother said, and nudged her. “I’m sure you could convince him to come over.”
“Sure.” Cassandra smiled. “Why have two bodies at the foot of the stairs when you can have three?” The nudge was the most pointed attempt yet at pushing her and Odysseus together. At first, it had made her mad that they expected her to move on so soon. But her parents were ancient. Dinosaurs. Everything they’d learned about relationships they’d forgotten before she was born.
She sighed. That wasn’t fair. Her parents just didn’t know how much deeper and further she and Aidan went. Thousands of years further.
And they never would. This mother wasn’t that mother. This father wasn’t that father. Cassandra didn’t know why that was. She only hoped that her other parents were at peace. And that these parents would never be touched by any god’s madness.
“Maureen,” her dad said, “I’ve got to run to the hardware store. You coming along?”
Her mom wrinkled her nose. “Only if you change out of that stuff and crack a window. And only if we can stop by the post office and the bakery. And the drugstore,” she shouted after him. He was already headed up the stairs, muttering about wanting to be home before midnight.
“Is that Ody’s car I hear?” Cassandra’s mom asked. The Dodge buzzed and grumbled, audible from several streets over. Odysseus pulled into the driveway, killed the engine before it got really annoying, and bounded up the front steps.
“Knock knock,” he said, and poked his head in.
“You have got to get a muffler,” said Cassandra’s mom.
“Really? I think it makes my entrance more dramatic. Like trumpeters.” Odysseus smiled at Cassandra. “Ah. Dishes. Need help?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t. But it’s gentlemanly to offer.” He grunted when Lux leaped up and pinned him to the door. Henry wasn’t far behind, and he peeled the dog off.
“What brings you by?” Cassandra’s mom asked.
“Aside from an uncontrollable desire to see your daughter?” Odysseus’ constant flirting didn’t help the matchmaking efforts. But it was just for fun. Anyone who saw the way he looked at Athena could tell you that. “My cousin’s home,” he said. “She was hoping Cassandra and Henry might come by for awhile.”