Greg knelt down, then reached into his inside jacket pocket for a flask. He took a sip, and poured a shot’s worth onto the grave in front of him. “I hope you’re finally at peace.” he mumbled, taking another drink of the scotch contained within the flask. Absurd as it seemed to him, he bowed his head and silently prayed. He knew he had been created from a higher power, so it was that which he pleaded with now: Let my son be at peace he asked. It was all he wanted, and the pain of losing him still hurt. He was, after all, the only child he was able to give the love of his long life. After several minutes, he became aware of a presence behind him.
“You are not welcome here.” he said, knowing who it was without looking.
“You’re in pain.” a feminine voice answered. Aphrodite – of course.
“You are not welcome.” he repeated. She reached down to touch him, but he batted her arm away, and slowly stood.
“I have a right to be here.” she said, placing hands on her hips.
“You gave up your rights when you abandoned him and your newborn daughter. You shouldered him with a grief he couldn’t bear, and a child he didn’t know how to handle.” he fairly growled. “So again, I say, you are not welcome here.”
He turned away from her, and took another sip from the flask before putting it away. As he did so, she slid her arms around his waist, in an attempt to calm him. He recognized the gesture – it had been a frequent tactic of hers in the past, and always led to her desire for fulfillment.
“Don’t touch me.” he said, disentangling her arms from his waist.
“What did I ever do to deserve this?”
“Apart from the previously mentioned?”
“I still maintain I had a right.” she said, putting her hands on him again, attempting to turn him around.
“I asked you, repeatedly, not to do it. You did it anyway.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“Since when is rape helping?” he asked, turning back around to face her. She wasn’t listening – her eyes were roving over other tombstones, and she happened to spy one of interest. She walked over to it and bent down, picking up the fresh lilies that had been laid there prior to Greg’s drink. “Put those down.” he growled, his eyes glaring.
“Awww. Poor Ares.” she mocked, sniffing the flowers. “You’ve never done anything sweet for me.” she said, tossing the flowers over her left shoulder, where they scattered across the ground.
“You’re not worth it. Leave.”
She turned around to face the headstone. “Emily Jean VanZant. ‘You’ll always be in my heart'” she said with vicious mockery. “1956-2005.” she continued. “What a pitifully short life.” she started to tun on, but there was a hand at her throat.
“You. Are. Not. Welcome.” he growled, the anger in his eyes palpable.
“Ares…don’t..” she choked.
“You didn’t stop for me. Why should I stop for you?”
Aphrodite struggled. Ares squeezed more, until she started losing color, then he let her go. “I don’t want to see you again. You’re not welcome here. Moreover…you aren’t welcome to your own daughter, as far as I’m concerned…but that’s her decision, much as I wish it were mine.”
She stood there coughing. “Bastard.” she managed to choke out, before she was able to teleport away. Greg stood there a long while, listening, making sure she was gone. The only sounds were the birds in the trees. Satisfied she was gone, he started locating the lilies, and placed them back on Emily’s grave.
“I’m sorry, love.” he said as he sat down, and leaned against the headstone. “In the end I couldn’t save our son from his demons. Hopefully I can do better with our granddaughter and her daughter.” he said, bowing his head and enjoyed the silence, and let his mind wander into thoughts of Emily.