How do you walk into a funeral—your funeral—and act like everything is fine? I’m a dead man, and yet, I’m alive. I’m laying in that coffin, and yet, I’m walking up to it to say goodbye to a body that looks like me.
Who am I saying goodbye to?
The pictures on display everywhere are of Ares—me. But the body laying in the coffin in an expensive Armani suit with his hands crossed at his chest is my brother—Apollo.
Who is he? Who am I?
I’m not sure I even know anymore.
“Father wanted an open casket. It’s fucking twisted, if you ask me,” Athena says as she approaches and stands by my side, looking down at my brother’s dead body in a coffin lined with white satin. “No way would Ares want everyone walking up and towering over him. It’s putting him in a position of weakness. Dead or not, he’d hate this.”
I smirk. My sister knows me so well. How fucking right she is.
I can see a line of makeup at his hairline and grimace. “Is he wearing foundation? Fucking lipstick?”
Athena leans closer to the body to examine. “I suppose they have to. Otherwise he’d be white, or blue, or gray. Something.” She shrugs. “Another thing Ares is going to haunt our asses over.” She tilts her head and scrutinizes some more. “I’ve heard that they sew the eyelids shut so the eyes can’t suddenly pop open and stare back at you. Do you think that’s true?”
I wouldn’t put it past my sister to actually reach down and open Apollo’s eyes to see for herself. “Makes sense,” I say, realizing that my sister and I are sick motherfuckers. Who stands and truly examines the body of their dead brother?
She looks around the room and shakes her head. “He’d hate how many people are here. There are so many fucking people. I doubt Ares even knows all these people coming in to pay their respects. Respect to who? Ares or our father?”
“Did you pick the church?” I ask.
We’re standing in the largest Catholic Church in Seattle. A church that rarely hosts services anymore because it acts as more of a museum and tourist attraction than anything else. But leave it to the Godwins to have their family event here. We aren’t even practicing Catholics.
“What do you think?” Athena asks. “Father has to have the biggest and the showiest. Promise me that when I die, you burn me and throw my ashes off that cliff by the tree of forgiveness. I don’t want anyone staring at my dead body wearing cheap foundation.” She glances back at my brother. “And when they burn me, make sure my eyes are open. I want to see my way to Hades.”
Not wanting to discuss another sibling dying, I turn away from the coffin and look at the room of black. She’s right. I don’t know a majority of the people wearing their expensive funeral outfits and acting like they’re mourning over a man they barely know, if at all. I see some board members, some business acquaintances, employees of Medusa, and some other random people who I know are there only because they feel they have to be. Optics and all. I also see the extended Godwin family members milling around and having small chat.
They are part of the Godwin family tree. Although on a weaker branch that could snap any minute if the mighty Troy Godwin deems it so.
My uncle Leander and his wife Stella are standing near their daughters. Calypso, Leto, and Electra, cousins I haven’t seen in person in years. Not since my father and his brother had a falling out over Poseidon Shipping and the running of it. My other uncle Hector and his daughter Selene are present. They both seem uneasy, no doubt hating to be at a funeral so closely after losing their wife and mother, Willow. The last time I saw either of them was at Willow’s funeral.
Yes, they are all here. But like Athena said, is it for me or for my father? Or are they here simply because we share the same last name, and they feel they have to?
“Well, that’s shocking,” Athena says, pointing to the door. “I’m surprised he came out of his cave to say goodbye to his brother.”
For the first time in years, I see Phoenix—my younger brother—enter the church. Athena is right. It is shocking. I’m just as surprised to see my brother. He doesn’t do family gatherings. Phoenix does nothing that involves people. At least not Godwins. And by the looks of how uncomfortable he appears, it’s clear it took all his might to be here. I appreciate it since my agoraphobic brother rarely leaves his domain. But I suppose the death of a brother is a good enough excuse to man the fuck up and walk out the front door.
“Ares was everyone’s favorite,” Athena says. “Makes sense everyone would turn out.”
I give her a side eye and struggle not to huff. Everyone’s favorite? Hardly.
Noticing the priest is working on getting everyone to take their seats, I decide it’s time to find Daphne and take the seat next to my father.
Growing up a Godwin, there were a lot of things I got to do in life that no one in my class, or any of my friends got to do. Money, power, and our family name allowed me to experience places, events, and live in an almost fantasy world. But nothing will top this.
I get to sit in a church and watch my own funeral.
Athena begins the funeral by standing before the room and demanding their silence and attention with ease. When she’s satisfied that all eyes are on her, she begins. “Thank you all for coming to pay respects to my brother… Ares Oedipus Godwin. I’m not going to stand here and tell you things about him you already know. Yes, he was a good man. Yes, he died too early. Yes, it’s a shame he died while lesser men still live.” She pauses as she stares at the audience, making eye contact with many. “I loved him. I never told him that. Godwins don’t say words that reveal emotion. We don’t express our feelings. But I fucking loved him.”
Her voice doesn’t crack. A tear isn’t shed. But I can see my sister’s pain. She’s lost weight, and the dark circles under her eyes tell a story of a woman grieving. I don’t know why my father hasn’t told her the truth about me. Athena is the keeper of Godwin secrets. There isn’t anything too dark or too sinister for her. So it doesn’t make sense, other than maybe losing Apollo would be too much for her to bear. Losing Ares causes her to lose weight and sleep. Maybe losing Apollo would destroy her, and my father knows it.
I don’t know how to process her words. I feel warmth and love, but I also feel as if I’m betraying her. She’s up there giving her truth while I sit here and hide in my lie.
Daphne, who hasn’t said anything to me since we entered the church, reaches for my hand and holds it. Apollo was never a touchy-feely man, and I wonder if he’d allow the comfort given. I then remember how he had reached out for my hand in our last hours. Correction—hislast hours. So I allow Daphne’s hand to remain in mine.
“If there is anyone who’d like to come up here and say something, now is your chance,” Athena continues. “But remember one thing. Ares was not a man to accept weakness. He was made of stone, just as the rest of the Godwins are. So don’t come up here with the waterworks and the hearts and flowers. Respect Ares, and don’t shed a single tear. That’s how he would have wanted today to go.”