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In Marie’s room, the walls were yellow. She had fairy lights around her bed because she hated going to sleep in the dark, and her window opened out to a view of the ocean. She insisted on leaving it open just a little at night so she could hear the waves. Her room was small, but it was full of things - she loved it there. She had a dresser covered in stickers, a box of toys she rarely touched, and three fully-stacked bookcases. On her bedside-table sat a nightlight, her dream journal, and a few more books. The room was lit by a pretty glow at night; it felt warm.
Armin had gone all out when Marie showed an interest in reading. Jean thought it was adorable, so he let him spoil their daughter as much as he liked. He could never say no when Armin’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he knew his husband was making up for lost time, wanting to give Marie everything he’d never had when he was a six-year-old. She had been making her way through the books Armin had treasured when he was growing up, finding joy in them just as he had when he was a little boy.
Bedtime was at seven o’clock, but Armin had a habit of taking Marie to bed a little earlier, just so they all had more time to read together. Marie always insisted that they both come and read her bedtime stories, and neither Jean nor Armin ever had the heart to tell her no, because it was one of their favourite times of the day, too. They sat either side of her on the bed. It was a team effort; Marie held the book, Armin read most of the story, and Jean did the voices.
On the weekends, Marie was allowed to choose a longer story because she didn’t have school the next morning. Jean watched from her bed as Armin lifted her up so she could reach one of the books on the top shelf, and she ran back over, book in one hand and her favourite cuddly toy in the other. It was a ratty old manatee plushie she’d had since she was a baby. Armin had bought it for her on the same day they brought her home, and she had slept with it every night since.
“Can I have this one?” She asked, worming her way under the blankets in between them. Jean peered over to look at the cover.
“Are you sure?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s kind of boring?”
“I don’t think so,” Armin countered, shooting Jean a look. “You can have this one if you want, Marie.”
It was a fact book for children about Greek mythology. Jean vaguely remembered learning about the various gods and their stories when he was a kid, but he couldn’t recall any of them.
“Please?” Marie asked, looking up at Jean with wide eyes. Jean couldn’t have said no even if he wanted to.
“Of course we can read this one,” he smiled. “I was just checking.”
“Mr Smith said that we’re going to learn about it at school,” Marie nodded.
“And you wanted a headstart?” Jean asked, and when she nodded again, he laughed. “That’s my girl.”
Marie tucked her toy manatee under the blankets with her before grabbing the book and opening it up. She liked to follow the words on the page with her finger, sounding them out in her head, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated. Jean and Armin shared a proud look as she started to read aloud to them.
“Dad,” she whispered to Jean, pointing at the book. “What’s this word?”
Jean leaned over and smiled.
“That says Athena,” he told her. “Do you want to learn about her?”
“Who is she?”
“I think Athena is a good place to start,” Armin said. “Athena was a goddess. Shall we see what the book has to say?”
“Okay,” Marie nodded, still holding on tight to the book as they found the right page.
“Ready?” Armin asked, and when Marie nodded again, he cleared his throat and started to read. “In ancient Greek mythology, Athena was the goddess of war, wisdom, and handicrafts. She -”
“What’s handicrafts?” Marie interrupted. Jean looked at Armin, clueless.
“Um... it’s like how people make things with their hands. Like basket weaving, or pottery, or woodwork,” Armin said.
“Carla showed me how to make a friendship bracelet in the playground yesterday!” Marie exclaimed, pulling up her sleeve to show them both. “Is that handicrafts?”
“Yes, I think so,” Armin smiled proudly. Jean’s chest felt impossibly warm when he saw the excitement and happiness in his daughter’s eyes. He continued. “She was one of twelve gods who were believed to live on Mount Olympus. Zeus, the leader of the gods and god of the sky, was her father, and she was his favourite child.”
“Hey, ‘Rie, it’s just like us,” Jean nudged his daughter, and she gave him a toothy grin right back.
“Athena did not have a mother -”
“Hey, that’s like me too!” Marie said, interrupting Armin again, though he didn’t mind at all. “Is this story about me?”
“Well, it does say that Athena was very kind and very clever,” Armin told her, chuckling. “You two seem to be quite similar.”
Marie sat up a little bit and looked at the picture in her book. “Is that Athena?”
“Yes,” Armin said. “See the olive tree? That’s supposed to represent peace. And the owl on her shoulder is supposed to represent wisdom.”
“Why?”
“Well, there are many reasons and myths about the olive tree, but this is what I believe the reason is. Back in ancient times, nobody looked after the olive trees during wartime because they grew very slowly,” Armin explained. “But when it was peaceful, the olives grew. So people think about olive trees when they think about peaceful times.”
“Oh,” Marie nodded, silent for a moment as she wrapped her head around it. “What about the owl? Are owls clever?”
“Well, Athena was very clever,” Armin went on. “It is said that because owls are able to see in the dark, the owl represents how Athena was able to see things that other people couldn’t.”
“I wish I could see in the dark,” Marie said. “Then it wouldn’t be so scary.”
“Well, that’s what you have your nightlight for,” Jean chimed in.
“One day,” Armin continued, turning the page, “Zeus began to feel a headache, and Athena was born fully-grown and already dressed, stepping out from the top of his head.”
Marie laughed loudly. “Is that how people are born?!”
“No,” Jean laughed. “It’s-”
“Jean,” Armin hissed quickly. “She’s not old enough to know that yet. Marie, that’s how Athena was born, at least according to the myth, okay?”
“Okay,” Marie nodded obediently, though she was scrunching her nose up in the same curious way that Armin did when he was thinking about something. “So… is that why she doesn’t have a mom?”
“Yep,” Armin explained, though when he looked over at Jean, he could tell he was leaving something out. “Oh, look, this explains more about the olive tree!”
“Let’s hear it, then,” Jean said, much more interested now than he had been when Marie chose the book.”
“The city of Athens was associated with Athena,” Armin read from the page. “According to legend, Zeus decided to give the city to the god who offered the most useful gift to the people. Poseidon, the god of the sea, gave the city a water spring. Athena struck the ground with her spear and caused an olive tree to grow. Zeus awarded the city to Athena.”
“So, is that why she’s seen with the olive tree?” Marie asked. “Why did Zeus give the city to her?”
“Maybe that was Athena’s way of showing that she wanted to keep the city peaceful and safe,” Armin suggested, and he blushed a little when he saw Jean looking at him with that fond expression he always gave when he said something a little bit nerdy.
They read for a little while longer, Marie piping up every so often about something or another. Armin was always able to fill her in on anything she asked; Jean wondered if there was even a limit to the things he knew about. It always seemed like Armin knew absolutely everything there was to know, and Jean never got tired of admiring him for it. Marie was enthralled by the story of Athena, and Jean knew that meant they were going to work through the whole book until she’d learned everything she possibly could about Greek mythology.
When she began to yawn, Armin finished up the next paragraph and slowly pried the book from her hands.
“Alright, sweetie,” he said, “it’s time you got some sleep.”
“Okay,” Marie yawned, obviously tired. She cuddled her toy close to her chest and gave her dads a smile. “Can we go to the beach tomorrow?”
“Of course we can,” Jean said, slipping out from the bed and giving Marie a kiss on the top of her head. “Maybe you’ll meet Poseidon.”
“Nooo,” Marie protested quietly, her voice muffled by the blankets she had pulled up over half her face. “I want to meet Athena!”
Armin got up and tucked her in properly, pulling the blankets down to her chin. “Do you want to do some more learning tomorrow?”
Marie nodded. “We can take the book with us to the beach…”
“That sounds perfect,” Armin said. He was so proud to have a daughter who loved to learn and read. She was the perfect fit into their family, and he was so happy that he and Jean had adopted her.
“Now, you best get to sleep,” Jean said gently. “I’ll leave the light on in the hall.”
“Thank you.”
“I love you, Marie,” Jean and Armin said, grinning at each other when they realised they’d spoken at the same time.
“Love you too,” she smiled back, her grin reaching her eyes before she turned on her side to go to sleep.
Armin left the door ajar so the extra light from the hall would filter into the room, just to assure Marie that she wasn’t alone in the dark. He took Jean’s hand as they walked back to the living room, where the walls were covered with photos of their family. Jean smiled.
“She takes after you so much,” he said fondly.
“She gets her cheekiness from you, though,” Armin laughed, sitting down in his favourite armchair, and casting a look down the hall into her room.
“I can’t deny that,” Jean laughed too. “That was kind of interesting, you know. I didn’t know you knew so much about mythology. Though I figure I probably should have guessed, right?”
“Jean, I don’t know everything. ”
“Sure seems like it to me,” Jean yawned.
“Are you already tired?” Armin teased. “We’re getting old, aren’t we?”
“Look who’s being cheeky now,” Jean rolled his eyes. “Though, we probably do need an early night if we’re going to go to the beach tomorrow.”
“Jean, it’s like eight o’clock,” Armin laughed. “Now come and watch a movie with me.”
Jean smiled, and grabbed one of the blankets from the basket by the couch. “You know what?”
“What?”
“That sounds absolutely perfect.”