Aphrodite's Flame

22. Embers

Crickets hide in the tall grass and the olive trees start to bear fruits. Anxiously, I sit on the wooden porch, wiggling my legs up and down. I clasp my hands, release them again, clasp them again. I get up from the steps and want to sit down again - when a young man, aged with hurt and regret, walks up to me. 

Adonis gives me a hardly visible smile when he sees me, and I jump into his arms. Catching me, he staggers back. I wrap my arms and legs around him, kissing him everywhere I can reach. 

'I missed you so much,' I cry, letting go of him. He wipes my tears with his thumbs and pushes my hair out of my face. Already, he seems different from the man I got to know.

'I'm glad to see you're still the same,' he whispers, taking my face into his hands and kissing me slowly, passionately, like it's the last time and he's saying goodbye again. Tears flow from my eyes as his lips move against mine and his tongue dances with mine. He pulls me closer against his body, lifting me up from the ground. Soon he carries me into the cabin, where everything is pretty much the same.

***

After making love to him every day since he got back, I'm lying on his chest while he combs his fingers through my hair. He is very different. Adonis is silent, he is serious, he barely laughs or talks and he doesn't sing anymore. I move my hand across his chest, looking for his heart beat. I guess it takes time to recover from your own death.

'Tell me what happened,' I whisper in a hoarse voice. His fingers stop moving. He sighs deeply, clearly contemplating whether talking about his death does him any good. 

'I guess you are the only one I would want to talk about that,' he murmurs. 'We were in the woods, looking for game. I was so glad to be out, the sun shining on my head, a chilly breeze playing through the young leaves.' He turns so we lie next to each other and he can face me.

'At first I didn't see him. A huge boar, bigger than a man, strong and broad. A monster, really. Angry. When I did see him, I knew I wasn't a hunter. I was prey. I could do two things. Run and try to escape him - or shoot him. One of the arrows Artemis gave me is one that never misses. I never used it before, because I thought it ruined the hunt - but now I knew what I got it for. The boar grazed its hooves on the forest floors, ready to attack. He had the most maddening eyes - this was no normal boar.' Adonis swallows, his eyes are watery. 'I lifted my bow and shot the arrow. I hit him square in the chest, but it only seemed to anger him more. In that last second I felt nothing but confusion and maybe a bit of regret. It came toward me and ripped me apart with his tusk before triumphantly stampeding my body. It shouldn't have been possible,' he breathes. 'I hit him square in the chest, the arrow should have pierced its heart.' His voice breaks and he starts crying. I don't have the strength to look at him cry, so I pull myself closer to him and hide my face in the crook of his neck.

That night, his uneasy sleep keeps me awake. I lean my head on my hand, watching him stir. I stroke his hair and face. His flame is almost out, it's no more than a glowing piece of coal. It hurts me knowing it won't get better for the time we have left together.

The next morning I make sure I have prepared breakfast before he wakes up. I gathered some fruits and brought a piece of cheese with a freshly baked bread. While I'm busying myself around the table, he sits upright in the bed and watches me. Flushed, I look around and smile nervously.

'Come, eat something,' I tell him. He gets out from the bed and walks over to me. I am holding my breath for my next question. There is something I meant to ask him, something I've been breaking my head over.

'You outdid yourself today,' he says, kissing me on the hair before sitting down next to me. He never sat down opposite me, he always sits down as close to me as possible. 

'What do you want to do today?' I breathe.

He shrugs, breaking a piece off the bread. 'Not much. Enjoy you for as long as I'm here.' I avoid his gaze and pick up a fig.

'Do you remember how often you told me you loved me?' I ask him quietly. I regret not knowing exactly how often he did. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips.

'Not as often as I would've liked.'