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Paul likes to think he took the whole ‘his future stepson is actually the son of a Greek god’ thing pretty well.
Did he ask a few too many questions? Maybe. He’s never been able to stifle his intellectual curiosity. But he kept the personal questions to a minimum. Even if the mythic world is full of wonder to him, Percy and Sally seemed thoroughly disillusioned by the whole thing.
All things considered, though, there’s a lot that he’s still figuring out.
The house is dim and quiet when he leaves the bedroom one late night in January. Paul almost thinks the living room is empty until he sees the blue light filtering into the hall. The television drones on quietly, playing some sort of marine documentary.
Percy’s head snaps up before Paul even crosses the threshold. Papers are strewn across the coffee table, and he’s slumped over them, mindlessly tapping his pen on his leg. It’s a mixture of algebra homework and sketches that Paul can’t quite decipher. The lamp casts a soft glow over Percy’s frantic sketches, but the math homework is bathed in shadows.
“Sorry,” says Percy, somewhat automatic. As Paul gets closer he can see the bags under his eyes and the semi-permanent frown that tugs at his mouth.
“No problem,” says Paul, who’s not even sure what Percy’s apologizing for. Existing? “I was just going to make some tea. Do you want any?”
Percy’s expression shifts. “You’re not going to tell me to go to bed? It’s one in the morning.”
“I’ll leave that to your mom,” he says, busying himself with preparing the tea. Nothing caffeinated, obviously. Just something to relax the constant flow of thoughts in his head. And based on the way Percy is still awake, he probably needs the same.
They sink into a silence as Paul gets the tea ready. He can hear the scratches of Percy’s pencil against his paper, but he’s willing to bet it’s not the math that he’s working on. The sketches are of weapons and buildings, as far as Paul can tell. Any notes are written in Greek, and it’s not enough for his limited understanding to pick up on.
Paul approaches the couch, setting two steaming mugs of tea on the table. Percy nods in silent permission, and he sits down.
“What are you working on?”
Percy slides the sketches away with a guilty glance to Paul. “Homework.”
Okay. Paul won’t pry. Percy can be as cagey as he likes; even just telling him about the mythical world took an incredible amount of vulnerability. “Anything I can help with?”
“Do you know how to do quadratic equations?” he asks doubtfully.
The warmth of the tea spreads across Paul’s tongue. “What, because I’m an English teacher, I can’t do math?”
Percy’s mouth twitches into the beginnings of a laugh. It’s a small victory. “I’m not judging. You’ll have more luck than I will.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I just can’t focus on math right now. Or, like, ever.”
“Could that have something to do with the fact that it’s one in the morning?” Paul asks.
“Probably,” he concedes. He takes a sip of tea and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. “But I’d rather not be asleep.”
Percy stares at the math for another second before shoving it aside. His eyes linger on his discarded sketches as Paul watches silently. His eyes will do that occasionally; focus so intently on something that he looks far older than his fifteen years. Paul can’t even begin to fathom what’s going on inside his head. Percy’s expression is inscrutable.
“Paul, I need to ask you something,” he says eventually. His pen is still clasped in his hand, and he fiddles absentmindedly with the cap.
“Of course,” says Paul without hesitation.
“I want my mom to be happy,” he says. His mouth moves again, like he’s having trouble forming the words. “I trust that you want the same thing. That’s why I need you to take care of her for me. Make sure she always has books to read. Always remember her birthday. Take her to Montauk.”
Paul’s heart thuds in his chest. “I plan on it.”
“Good,” says Percy, like he’s reassuring himself. “Good.”
Paul can’t describe the tension that hangs in the air. He doesn’t know what Percy’s referring to, but it’s obviously serious.
“It’s just that this year is going to be hard,” he continues. “For her. She’s going to need you.”
The television drones on about coral reefs. Paul’s tea has started to cool, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Why?” he asks, throat almost closing around the word. After hearing about Percy’s dangerous quests and the monsters that are after him, he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.
Percy rubs at his eyes. “There’s a war going on. Between the gods and the titans. And an old prophecy…anyway, the prophecy says the next child of the Big Three to turn sixteen will make a choice that will save or destroy Olympus.”
Paul inhales sharply. “And that’s you?”
“Yeah,” says Percy dryly. “So we’re all preparing for that. They won’t tell me the exact wording, which doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. I know I’m not supposed to make it.”
For a second, Paul can’t say anything. Percy is fifteen and he has eight months left to live. It feels impossible. It should be impossible. When he glances over, Percy’s eyes are glassy with tears before he composes himself again.
“No wonder you can’t focus on math homework,” says Paul. He worries that it’s the wrong thing to say, but Percy actually laughs, the sound reverberating in the small room.
“Try telling that to my teachers,” he says. “Like, sorry I don’t know the quadratic formula. I’m a little busy saving the world.”
It’s so ridiculous that Paul can’t help but smile, and soon they’re both stifling laughs with their hands in order to not wake Sally. “Does your mom know?” Paul asks, once the mood sobers again.
Pain flashes in his eyes. “I haven’t told her. But the way she looks at me…yeah, she knows.”
“I’m glad you told me,” says Paul. There’s so much he wants to say. Thank you for trusting me with this. Your pain is not a burden to me. You don’t have to carry this on your own. Instead, he says, “And I think your mom would be glad if you told her.”
“I can’t,” Percy replies, a well practiced response. He’s probably had this debate with himself. “I’ve caused her enough pain already. Confirming that I won’t be around to get my license or graduate high school will just hurt her more.”
“There is no world where this won’t be painful for us,” Paul says. He can see the guilt settle in the slump of Percy’s shoulders. Not what he was going for. “So it’s not on you to try to mitigate it, okay? At least if you’re honest, she knows it’s coming.”
“I guess,” says Percy dully. “I just—it all feels so impossible. I can’t talk to Mom without making her sad. I can’t talk to Annabeth without making her angry. I can’t even get my math homework done because I keep getting distracted.”
His voice cracks on the last word and he buries his head in his hands.
“I think I can help with that last one,” Paul offers.
Percy glances up at Paul through his fingers, cautious hope glimmering in his eyes. “You can do math?”
“Well, not really,” he admits, which elicits some amusement from Percy. “But the computer can.”
He strides over to the family computer and Percy follows slowly behind. Paul types in the first equation and the solution pops up easily.
“Paul,” says Percy slowly, caught between disbelief and joy. “Are you advocating for cheating?”
He gives a modest smile. “Not at all. I’m using my resources.”
Percy laughs for the second time that night, which Paul thinks might be a new record. They spend the next ten minutes typing every problem in the worksheet into the computer before writing down the answer. Percy stares at his completed homework in awe. “I thought that was never gonna get done,” he marvels.
“Usually I would encourage you to figure it out on your own,” Paul says with a shrug. “But I don’t think agonizing over math homework is the best use of your time right now.”
Percy slumps back onto the couch, relieved. “I don’t think so, either.”
Paul takes the empty mugs to the sink and rinses them out. “Do you want to try to get some sleep?”
“No,” says Percy quickly. “I keep dreaming about—uh, just stuff I’d rather not see.”
He settles back onto the couch. “No problem.”
“What are you doing?” Percy asks, glancing over at Paul who has made no move to return to bed. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t you want to go to bed?”
The scene on the television has shifted to brightly colored schools of fish. “I think I’d rather stay here.”
Percy eyes him skeptically but seems to accept this. He reaches for the remote and turns up the volume, just enough to hear the narration. Percy eventually slumps over with exhaustion, dozing off on Paul’s shoulder.
“You’re a great kid, Percy,” says Paul softly. “And you’re stronger than you know.”
His eyes remain closed, but his mouth twitches into a smile.