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The little tv blares from the counter at the front of the corner store. Dionysus ignores it, fills his pockets with tiny liquor bottles. He needed—he needed a lot of things, some respect would be nice, attention, love even. He looks down at the corpse of little Dennis, still in his cat carrier. Shakes that thought away. Knowing more about that Ari chick would be nice. More than, even. But before anything else, Dionysos needed to get drunk in a park. Not a club. No other people. No revelry no celebration. He needed to get to get drunk in a park and bury his cat.
The man at the counter clears his throat. Dionysus looks up. Busted. Been 50:50 if he can get away with shit since dad’s meltdown. Since he left Olympus. Maybe there’s something to that prophecy after all. Which is about when Dionysus realizes he’s saying all this out loud.
He saddles up to the counter. “Look.” He starts and then his eyes drift to the tv on the counter.
“No, no–” A man on the tv says. “She did die. She’s just back.” Dionysus blinks at the tv. Is that—
“And how did she come back, Orpheus?” The peppy morning show host asks and oh boy yes it is. Persephone said he’s failed. Lying, all of them lyrics, course Hera was there–and oh, he’s talking out loud again.
“The power of love.” Orpheus says and laughter from the tv audience.
The store clerk blinks at Dionysus and says “Look man. You can have the booze. They don’t pay me enough to chase you.”
“Fuck.” Dionysus says, both to and not at all to the clerk. “It’s not my fucking cat.”
***
It’s a funeral and also a concealment of evidence. In the heart of Heraklion there’s a beautiful park and in a tucked away corner, Dionysus is digging a hole. With a shitty trowel he plucked out of a gardener's wagon, planting some peacock themed bullshit in honor of Hera. He takes a swig from another tiny bottle and drains it, tosses it aside. The towel catches his thumb and blood wells up. He stares at it a minute. Gods don’t bleed. And yet.
“No fucking time for this shit.” He says, and wipes it on his shirt with the rest of the blood. “I will deal with that later. Gotta give Orpheus his cat back. Or a cat. He probably won’t notice, right?” He looks down at poor dead Dennis on his chest. “I’m sorry man. You deserve a better funeral than this. But I gotta prove I can not fuck up one thing I’ve been trusted with. And that’s gotta be you.”
He kicks at some dirt. “Alright. Seems deep enough.” He gingerly takes Dennis’s body out of the cat carrier and sets it in the hole. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to die. I–my bad. You were a good cat. And—that’s all, I guess.”
He picks the trowel up, then realizes something. “Shit–wait–” He says, and fishes in his pocket. Pulls out the dime the weird lady on the bus gave him earlier in exchange for his eyes. God of madness, and all. He gets that kinda thing a lot. He kneels down next to the hole and slips it in Dennis’s mouth.
“I don’t know if the mortals really do this for cats but—you earned it buddy.” He says, and starts to fill in the hole. If he cries, there’s no one to see.
***
Gods don’t need money but that doesn’t mean that pretty mortals in bars don’t respond well to a black credit card flashing around. Which he found in his pocket wrapped in a receipt for a falafel sandwich so thank…..somebody, for small mercies.
“A-huh.” The pet store lady says because he was once again saying this all out loud. “Were you looking for something specific?” She asks.
“I need a beautiful little black kitten with the shiniest green eyes you’ve ever seen.” Dionysus explains, in something that might be boarding on frenzy.
The pet store lady sighs and gestures towards some kittens. None are Dennis. One comes close, or at least close enough that Orpheus might not tell the difference. If he’s drunk. Or has been stricken blind in the underworld. Pet store lady raises an eyebrow and well. God of madness. Who can blame him for monologuing.
“That’ll be $300.” Pet store lady says. This not a very nice pet store maybe but Dionysus keeps that one to himself. He slaps the card down and doesn’t even spare a thought to who might be paying the bill.
***
Two hours. Dionysus has been waiting outside Orpheus’s house with Dennis II for two hours. Orpheus is in there, Dionysus can tell. His car his here, burnt to shit for some fucking reason, but here. And aimless piano melodies waft out the window. “Five more minutes”, Dionysus tells Dennis II. Like he has for the past two hours. He goes to scratch Dennis II’s ears and Dennis II nips him. “Livelier than Dennis I, aren’t you?” He says, then cringes at the subtext.
“Alright, alright.” He says, and wills himself across the street to knock on Orpheus’s door. The piano melodies stop, and footsteps clunk closer to the door. The door opens and:
“Holy shit.” Orpheus says. “Kinda wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
“Yeah, well,” Dionysus says, “Had to bring Dennis home, didn’t I?”
Orpheus blinks. “Who’s Dennis?” He asks.
Dionysus blinks back. “Dennis.” He says. “Your kitten? You asked me to look after him while you went to get your wife?” He reminds Orpheus. “How’d that go, by the way?”
“We’re getting divorced.” Orpheus says.
“Oof.” Dionysus replies. “Tough break.” He fishes Dennis II out of the cat carrier and hands him to Orphues.
“Is that….blood? On the cat carrier?” Orpheus asks. “Is Dennis okay?”
And if this was his dad, Dionysus could lie. But it’s not. It’s Orpheus, a mortal, who shouldn’t matter, but is kind of, maybe his friend. So he spills the truth all over Orpheus’s doorstep. “No.” He says. “He’s not. He’s dead. My dad killed him. I’m sorry. But!” He says with a forced grin, forced chipperness. “I got you a new Dennis!”
“Dennis….” Orpheus trails off and oh god is he gonna cry. “Was Riddy’s cat.” And oh boy he is but not over Dennis.
“Should I—take him to her?” Dionysus asks. He sure hopes not. How would he even find her.
“Don’t. She chose to leave us.” Orpheus says. “Come in.” Dionysus would rather not, but he follows Orpheus anyways.
***
Dionysus wakes up on Orpheus’s couch, blanket thrown haphazardly over him, three empty wine bottles on coffee table. Dennis II sleeping on his chest. Dionysus sits up and his head swims. A hangover? Shit, he’d never had a hangover before.
“Thought gods don’t get hangovers.” A voice from the doorway says. Dionysus jumps before he realizes it’s Orphues.
“Yeah, well,” Dionysus says. “Strange days. Straaaange days.”
“Look, I thought about it—” Orpheus starts and oh boy. Now what. “You should keep the cat. It’ll just make me think of Riddy. And I think you were right, last night–” Dionysus has no memory of what he said last night, but says nothing. “I gotta purge all influence of her from my life. Find somebody new to love.”
“Oh, boy, that’s–” Dionysus starts.
“Oh!” Orpheus interrupts. “Here’s the president’s phone number, by the way.”
“The president?” Dionysus questioned. Stupid that a god of wine can get blackout.
“Ari? You said you loved her and needed to talk to her? And, well, fame has its perks.” Orpheus said.
“Shit! Yeah that’s great–” Dionysus says, stands, and stretches. “Look, I should get going.”
“Yeah–that’s–great!” Orpheus says, clearly disappointed. “Will I see you again?”
“Dunno!” Dionysus says, and that at least, is honest. “Who can ever say.”
Orpheus nods very seriously. “Wise man.” He says. “See when I see you, then.”
“See you when I see you.” Dionysus echoes, and heads out the door and down the street. He fingers the phone number in his pocket, next to the bottle of Meander water. Dennis II meows.
“Alright buddy,” He says, and scratches the cat’s ears. “Snack first.” Dennis II curls up in the cat carrier and starts to purr and for a minute, Dionysus is almost something close to content.