"HOW DO YOU KNOW I'm your son?" Ezra asks.
Dionysus tilts his head. Your mother was a bartender.
"You knew her?"
"Ezra," Dahlia says, "how do you think babies are made?"
He swats at her arm. "Shut up. I'm having a moment."
Your mother was a bartender, Dionysus repeats, a bit louder, like a person repeating themselves not because they weren't heard, but because not enough attention was brought to their previous point. I'm the god of wine. It's as classic as boy meets girl.
"Well, that's heteronormative," Marisol scoffs.
"You're literally talking to four queers," Dahlia adds.
Dionysus nods. And I, myself, swing in all directions. Classic doesn't always mean good. It lasted one night. I never saw her again.
"I don't think I want to hear this," Ezra mumbles
She had no idea I was a god, Dionysus admits.
Marisol crosses her arms over her chest. "So you were dishonest with a sexual partner."
She didn't ask. I would have told her the truth.
"But my mom—" Ezra sort of vaguely gestures at nothing. "My mom died of alcohol poisoning. She was... struggling with alcoholism ever since—as far back as I can remember. How could you let her—how could you let her suffer like that? How could you let her die?"
My son—(Ezra cringes as the words pass Dionysus's lips)—even as a god not all things are under my control. The way in which mortals behave is one of them. Especially Americans. I really have no control over your country whatsoever. But now that we've gotten all that figured out—Dionysus clasps his hands together—let's get going, now, shall we?
That's when it really hits me that Ezra is my half-brother. Back home, such things were meaningless to me; I cared nothing for my half-siblings. But I care about Ezra. Knowing that we're actually related by blood... that means something for me, stirs something in my chest. Ezra's my half-brother. Huh.
Which means that either Marisol or Dahlia is the child from the prophecy.
"Wait—!" Ezra yells.
Dionysus snaps his fingers, dropping the Capri-Sun. The world disappears in a drunken haze.
YOU ARE READING
A Shrine to an Unknown God
FantasyAntigone Katsaros was born and raised in a cult. Now, at eighteen, she doesn't know what wifi is, but she's well-versed in the old gods. [A Wattpad featured story.]
