Psyche and Eros

An Empty Home

Alexander sounded somber before he left the following morning. To see his father, as he said.

Even without seeing his exact expression, I could feel his anxious energy. I have developed the impression he isn't exactly used to visiting his father...They must have a strained relationship, which leads me to think of my own father, sitting at home. No doubt he is buried in his politics, books and meetings with his advisors. Those obligations never seem to end.

Will I ever want to see him again? Stooped in his library, books open all over his desk?  Or my sisters? No doubt up to nothing more than sitting at home, braiding each others hair as they await their own wedding days. Surely those are both in the works by now. And my mother? She will be all alone at home soon. She never fared too much without family around her, without someone to keep her occupied...how will she manage?

The thought of having to see their faces makes my stomach twist in knots...there are few things I detest more than how we left things. It would be a painful wound to reopen if they were to come here to visit me...but the thought of never seeing them may be worse. A growing pit of grief bound to spread throughout all of me until it far too late for forgiveness or reparation.

For now, I want them to know I'm not dead. That I am doing surprisingly well...

But can I really introduce an invisible husband without the argument that he must be fooling me? He mustn't be...but how would they ever be convinced?

They wouldn't.

I listened to his wings flutter away, feeling more nervous by the minute. He said he wouldn't be more than a night away. Even so, I haven't held down the fort alone quite yet.

Thankfully this place is well hidden. I know he wouldn't leave me unattended if there were any danger of anyone dropping in unannounced. 

I shouldn't worry about anything but entertaining myself.

As I settled into the day, I had little issue in breaking in the spines of several more books. A monstrous thing to do, I know...but I have taken up reading more than usual this past while. One can't always bake for self amusement.

Besides, it is a new way to read more stories of the gods I am surrounded by. Eventually, I know I will happen upon a chapter that will confirm the identity of my dear Alexander.

Eventually, reading for amusement leads to mind-wrecking research, all day skimming the family trees of the God's and Goddesses, easily striking out the possibilities I can rule out confidently.

At least son's of Zeus cut down a vast chunk of them, given he told the truth. There are many demi-gods to consider as well. Is he one of them? That may be why he has a statue of his mother. To honour her...perhaps she is long gone now.

Ah, that is horrible...but would mean that his father is the God. Hermes is a great contender...

I go on from there until dusk, scratching theories on extra parchment hanging around the library - most of it leading nowhere. I end up falling asleep, my head lain uncomfortably on the desk in front of me.

It feels like moments later before I feel a soft nudge on my back, urging me awake gently. I mumble unhappily, drowsily coming alive again as my husband picks me up in his arms - rather easily, I might add, as if I were the weight of a feather.

I curl into his chest comfortably, now fully embarrassed to have had been caught obviously prying for an answer. For a moment, my eyes peep open, spotting for a brief moment the strong arms holding me. I didn't dare move my head to look any further up. 

I'm jut too tired to explain or think. Instead of doing anything at all, I pretend to stay more or less asleep while as he carries me blissfully to bed. Childish,  I know!