Psyche and Eros

Tears

For longer than I imagine, I sleep. When I became too tired of weeping and gazing at my concerned sisters sitting over me, I had no choice.

They delayed their departure for another three days. Too long. Their husband's came for them, in fact. Somehow they found their way here in their carriages. 

The two of them never complained, but even if they did, I wasn't in the proper state of mind to hear them or care. Perhaps, they knew that and granted me the rare gift of their compliance.

Alia brushed my hair every morning and pulled out fresh dresses for me. Cora cooked. A surprising skill she picked up, proving more and more that I misjudged their capacity of change.

When I needed to be cared for, they cared. I couldn't have been more silently grateful. I only thanked them with my tearful eyes before I would bury my face in whatever pillow was nearby.

On the third and final day before their husband's came, they forced me into the garden. Making me sit in front of that damned statue. They had no idea of the significance before I told them - an unexpected rant, but they were gleeful I was speaking at all. Anger was more relieving than silence.

Especially if they were about to leave me alone.

They promised it wouldn't be for long. I still felt betrayed. I thought I wanted them to go not that long ago, now I never wanted us to part.

"We could all just stay here. You would be more than welcome to. Both of you...and your husband's too," I weakly try to bargain them.

Though they seem sympathetic to my begging, they have their own lives to return to.

"He will return," Alia reassured me.

Cora's face had a different revelation. She holds little hope in much, but I find myself just as hopeless as she would be in my position.

His last words to me felt impossibly final. Unforgivably so. I recounted it for both of them the best I could. Still, Alia relies on false hope, as I also tend to. But Cora...no, she is the realist I sometimes have to look to.

"And if he does, tell him to live out the rest of his days in the Underworld, where he and the rest of men belong." Cora said, brutally giving me her final opinion.

It wasn't until I watched them pull away in their carriage that I realized I had just met both of their husband's, and the sight of them meant nothing at all to me.

Ironic.

I found myself scoffing before returning inside, finding the fresh smell of bread luring me to the kitchen.

For a delirious second, I thought he might have returned. My bare feet pattered against the marble floor in a panic, only to find the kitchen bustling on its own again. Just as it was when I first arrived. Invisible servants, cooking and baking done by magic and not by hands.

I eat the bread as soon as it's cooled. Way too much of it at that. 

As I would for the next few days. I wondered if Eros' mother would come here, wielding all her wrath and finally taken me out. I almost wish she would. After a while, it became obvious she can't be inconvenienced by me now. She has what she wants now. My misery, and her son returned home forever. 

And that thought only brought more anger out of me. Directing everything towards Aphrodite was far easier than blaming Eros. Once absolute perfection in my eyes was now riddled with regular flaws I once looked past. 

He was a God, but perfectly human at once... with that in mind, I have decided to hate his lack of forgiveness rather than him entirely. 

For weeks, I avoided my feelings on his ruthless decision and cursed his mother's name instead. I sat in the garden and threw things at her statue, never once having the nerve to actually harm the structure, but I imagined it. Vividly. Tearing her ugly head off and wielding it as if I just defeated Medusa herself. 

I am no warrior, but this was a time that I wished I was more than just a pretty little girl. Pregnant and useless, and eating bread as if it is the only meal available. 

I happened to be mid-throw when my insolent and occasional visitor returned. 

"You're not throwing that rock at me, are you?" Hermes asked, smugly. 

I scoffed, loudly and let it drop at my feet. This one was heavy enough to have actually done damage anyway. "And what are you doing? I have no spare time for surprise, inconsiderate guests."

"Why not? You have all the time in the world and all the food too. Weren't you taught to share, or were you too rich to care?" 

I turn my back to him, but I fail to deter him.  His confident stride is unmistakably headed directly inside my home, making himself comfortable. 

I growled and followed after him.

I may be charading that I want to throw him out. But do I truly want to be alone for the rest of today?

No.

My hands are less clenched at my side when I see him tossing an apple in his hands. "Oh lovely, did you even have to pick this yourself? Or did the wind do it for you?"

I silently tuck my hair behind my ear, looking away.

He smirks at me, making himself comfortable in our kitchen. "Have any spare bedrooms in this empty palace?"

I nod.

"So it's settled," he said. "I'll keep a watchful over you and your sad little pity party."

Apparently I asked him for how long.

"Oh, you will barely even notice me here. I'll stop in now and again...to make sure you're not doing anything you shouldn't be and then I'll leave you be."

I sit myself down and let my arms cover my head. "Who cares if I just lay around in this palace? Aren't I allowed to throw things around? Make a mess? Destroy a few things maybe?"

Hermes chuckles. "Oh, absolutely. In fact, highly encouraged. There are far too many feather pillows around here going to waste." 

I sputter. "Can you repeat the purpose for your visit again?" 

Hermes tosses one of the pillows directly in front of me. "I am curious about the inner workings of this palace. Does everything regenerate itself? I would bet you precisely one use of my shoes, if you tore that up and it simply...reappears." He raises his eyebrows suggestively. 

My stubbornness prevails, but he doesn't back down. "Don't make me do it for you." 

He dares me over and over, until I do it. Tearing my fingers into the fabric with more viciousness than I was expecting. With a vice grip, I take both edges and break it apart, tossing feathers across the floor, letting them float through the air. Watching them fall brought a sneaking smile on both of our faces. 

I threw the cover to the farthest part of the room. 

To both of our disappointment, it stays in its destructive heap. Even so my smile stayed, and so did his gloating gaze. 

"I don't think I need to answer why I am here. You are dreadfully depressed, aren't you? With nowhere to fly away...it's too bad you lost that bet." 

I roll my eyes, and slump into the security of more cushions. 

"Come on, let's talk about it. As long as I am free to loot your wine." Hermes suggests, helping himself already. 

"Help yourself, I won't be needing it for a while."