What Alexa was in for, as it turns out, was being stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. It took them half an hour's drive to get from Milwaukee to the small suburban town Melody called home, and the moment they had gotten inside the cozy little home, Ms. Sherman had gotten to work in the kitchen.
For lunch, Amber and Jazz received two burgers, each seeming too big to be allowed, and a metric ton of homemade fries. Under Ms. Sherman's watchful gaze, Alexa couldn't help but eat well beyond her usual limits. Melody beamed.
"Eat!" Melody encouraged. "We got plenty of food and you both look so thin!"
This wasn't necessarily true, but Alexa managed to choke down another few bites of burger, regardless. Jazz, however, had a different tactic to get her mother's thoughts off their stomachs.
"Where's Lisa?" Asked the teen.
"Oh you know your grandmother." Melody replied with a roll of her eyes "Praying for the soul of her wayward daughter and pagan granddaughter. She'll probably be back by dinner."
Although Jazz looked a bit angry by the news, the 13 year old didn't really look surprised. Melody turned to Alexa.
"My mom never really approved of my choices growing up. When she found out I was having Jazzy and her father hadn't asked to marry me...well things got a bit...heated. She insisted on moving in to make sure that Jasmine was raised properly." Melody explained.
"And not at all to mooch off her daughter's pay check and get free cable." Jazz cut in, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Melody rolled her eyes again.
"She and Jazzy-pants never got along." Melody added.
"Jazzy-pants?" Alexa asked, the grin on her face growing positively malicious.
"We don't all get cool nicknames, Spits." Jazz muttered. "And this doesn't get back to camp."
Alexa decided to drop it for now, moving on to a topic she was honestly more curious about.
"So how did you meet Jazzy-pants' dad?" Okay, maybe she couldn't help but tease her a little. Still that didn't make her any less curious. Melody was just so...nice and good natured. A gentle giant of a woman. How did she ever attract a god like Ares?
"Oh... Well, I was only 18 at the time, senior year of high school. I was a bit of a bigger gal, even back then, and I was bullied pretty bad from the second grade on by this group of kids for being so big. So prom was coming up and I was surprised when one of the boys in that group asked me to go." A small sad smile crossed the woman's face.
"I was so excited! I completely forgot what they had done to me and just went along with it. It almost felt like he was trying to make amends. I got to the gym and I heard him talking with the others. They had this big plan of…" she paused and looked at Alexa, her cheeks turned a bit pink. "Of… uh... embarrassing me… taking pictures when I definitely didn't want them taken." Melody let out an awkward sounding cough while Alexa sat and tried to puzzle out what she had meant. Melody saw the cogs whirring in the little girl's skull and plowed onwards.
"Well, I was more angry than I had ever been in my life! I walked around the corner and punched Bobby right in the jaw and back handed Moe before he even realized I was there! I had four boys and six of the girls splayed out on the floor before I stomped away."
She took a deep breath here, and her eyes seemed to go a bit out of focus as she stared off into the past.
"I was outside by the payphone, crying and trying to compose myself enough to call my mom when he just showed up out of nowhere." A fond smile crossed her face "He was nothing like you'd expect, first off he was my age, 17 or 18, not at all like the big buff war god you're picturing, and he was dressed in a suit. Black jacket and pants, blood red button up, black and red striped tie, chiseled features, black crewcut, and a body that I ju-"
"Mom!" Jasmine squawked, her face about the same color as her hair. Melody blinked.
"Sorry Jazzy-pants, Momma-bear just got lost in the past for a minute." Melody grinned sheepishly. "Anyway, this boy walks up and asks me 'Did you break a finger when you hit them or something? Why are you crying? That was righteous!'"
"Righteous?" Alexa asked.
"It was a different time" Jazz said immediately.
"Don't worry, one day you'll be in my position and 'Fly' and 'Psyche!' will get the same looks as 'righteous'." Melody chuckled.
"So what happened next!" Alexa asked eagerly.
"Hmm? Oh! Well we started talking, then he asked me if I'd like to go in and dance. A couple of the boys tried to make a fuss, but one look at him and they went running. He was quite the gentleman, after that. We dated casually for a few months… he and mom fought like dogs and cats every time he came over, I think I liked that though. It was nice having someone who didn't just fold to every request she made."
"But when I do it, I'm an undisciplined, spoiled brat." Jazz huffed.
"She called him that too!" Melody chuckled. "He was so sweet when we were alone. We fed the stray dogs around town, we went to movies, he helped me study for finals, he even helped me get a scholarship - don't ask me how - he implied that it was best I didn't know the details. He was the best man I ever met."
Alexa didn't really know what to make of this. Everyone she knew described Ares as a huge jerk. How could that god be the same one that made someone like Melody? It could be wishful thinking, or rose colored glasses but part of her still wondered.
"I figured out who and what he was after the third week, kinda hard to miss honestly. He just gave off those vibes and I tended to see more than most, ever since I was your age." She paused here to smile at Alexa. "Everywhere we went he made people either scared or angry, half our dates ended with a fist fight. But with me, he was just the sweetest thing." Ms. Sherman let out a wistful sigh.
"We'd been dating for a few months before I found out I was pregnant with Jasmine. He stayed for the entire pregnancy, though, and from what I understand that's rare." She smiled and reached out to grab Jazz's hand. "Jasmine was about a month old when he left for the last time."
"Good riddance! I was happy to see the back half of the good for nothing freeloader!" These words came, not from any of the women at the table, but a woman in the doorway. Alexa was forcibly reminded of a downstairs neighbor she had had back in her apartment, Mrs. Nickles. Old, at least 60, with a rail thin frame, her gray hair cut short, and an expression that was somewhere between having smelled something rotten and just biting into a lemon.
"Oh mom!" Melody said cheerily "We were just wondering where you had gotten off to!"
Mrs. Sherman frowned at her daughter, then her eyes moved first to Jazz, and finally settled on Alexa. Her lip curled slightly but beyond that the older woman did nothing.
"Mom, this is Alexa, Jazz's friend from camp." Melody chirped into the awkward silence. "You remember? I told you last week that Jazz was bringing a-"
"I remember." Mrs. Sherman interrupted, her frown deepening. "I suppose this is another one of the indoctrinated children at the so-called camp."
Alexa was liking the woman less and less. Jazz looked about ready to say something stupid, brash, and probably along the same lines as Alexa's own feelings. Melody, however, beat them all to the chase.
"Mother," she said in a sickly sweet voice, "do we need to have the talk about how we treat guests in my house again?"
Alexa could feel the change in atmosphere. It was as if a spike of ice had dropped into the room between them all. Mrs. Sherman stood her ground.
"Daughter," she said, just as coldly as before, "do we need to have another talk about respecting your elders?"
"Oh no, we've had that talk quite enough, and I do respect my elders. When they deserve it." Melody said, just as cheerily as before. "Jazzy, why don't you show Alexa to your room. I'm sure after that long flight and lunch you're both about ready to keel over!"
There was no room for argument in her voice, so Jazz didn't bother to try to make one. She just grabbed Alexa's hand and yanked her out of the room. The last look the little girl got of the two women, Melody was smiling placidly as she scooped up the girls' dishes and Mrs. Sherman looked like an angry, wrinkled, old boiler on the verge of exploding.