by Tina Folsom
“You summoned me,” Hermes said, his voice cool and controlled.
“I did,” Zeus ground out with a clenched jaw. “Half your time is up, and what have you got to show for your efforts? Nothing! Eros still hasn’t shot a single arrow!” He slammed his fist on his desk.
Hermes took a step back and raised his arms in defense. “Hey, hey, what’s with the aggressive tone? Triton, Dio, and I have made great progress. Eros is clearly smitten with his new girlfriend. Which, I might add, was all our doing. My friends and I set them up and he fell for it without smelling a rat. For Hades’ sake, she’s even living with him! You can’t call that nothing! We’ve done our part. Now it’s just a matter of time.”
“A matter of time?” Zeus thundered. “I don’t have time!”
“What else do you want us to do? Hold a gun to his head? You know that won’t work. You know your grandson. He’s stubborn, and the more he gets pushed, the more he pushes back. I say we step back and let things develop. If we interfere now, who knows what’ll happen?”
Zeus jumped up, annoyed by Hermes’ reluctance to roll up his sleeves and do the hard work. “Step back? What part of my threat to separate you and your damn friends from your wives and children did you not understand? Did you think I was joking?”
“I would never make that mistake. After all, you have no sense of humor,” Hermes snapped.
“Whereas you still think this is a game. Let me assure you: it’s not. Setting Eros up with this … this woman, is all good and fine, but it’s not enough. The entire situation needs to be escalated.”
“Escalated?” Hermes asked with raised eyebrows.
“Yes! Eros currently has no incentive to move this relationship to the next level and find his way back to what he needs to do as the god of love.”
Hermes shrugged. “What do you mean by incentive? I can assure you those two are screwing like rabbits.”
Zeus made a dismissive movement with his hand. “That means nothing! He can fuck half the female population of Charleston for all I care. What I want to know is if he loves her. If he’d do anything for her.”
“You’re asking the wrong person.”
“Obviously!”
“Listen, Father—”
“Oh, Father is it now?” Zeus glared at him. “You think you can placate me by calling me Father?”
“I would never presume that such an approach could influence you,” Hermes said, his mouth set in a thin line. “But you are my father.”
“Don’t remind me.” Zeus turned to the French doors that led out to the terrace of his palace. “Neither you nor your friends seem to understand how to push Eros to commit to Psyche.”
“I already told you that pushing him won’t work.”
“It will if he thinks he’s competing with another man.” Zeus spun around to face Hermes again.
“Are you talking about making him jealous? That old trick never works.”
“It already did.” After all, tossing Wayne back into Psyche’s life had pushed Eros in the right direction. All it had taken was a little subliminal suggestion Zeus had planted into Wayne’s mind. Now Wayne simply had to make another attempt at invading Eros’s territory, and Eros would have to act. And once he did, Zeus would have the right ammunition to force Eros to do his duty.
“She’ll become my bargaining chip.” Not only could he use Psyche to finally teach Eros a lesson and get back at him for insulting the god of gods, but she would be the key to Eros shooting his arrows again.
“Leave!” he ordered Hermes. “And not one word of our conversation to Eros or you’ll find yourself in a very lonely palace on Olympus. Without your lovely wife and son.”
~ ~ ~
The days after the surprise birthday party passed like a whirlwind. When Eros wasn’t coaching Justin, he was spending time with Psyche, both in and out of bed. They’d grown closer with every passing day, and Eros’s fear that Psyche still had feelings for Wayne and might take him back, slowly vanished. However, there were moments when Eros caught Psyche looking at him in an odd way when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. Was she seeing something she didn’t like? Was she comparing him to somebody? Eros tried not to let this bother him, because he didn’t want to rock the boat. Everything seemed perfect, so he wrote it off to his own paranoia. Aphrodite had warned him about that, and he trusted her judgment and was willing to let this relationship take its natural course.
There was no more pretending that he was in a relationship for the benefit of his friends. They’d seen the way he’d kissed Psyche. He didn’t care any longer that they’d set him up for whatever selfish reasons. He was glad that they had, although he wasn’t ready to admit it to them.
Eros stepped out onto his terrace and was about to plop down in his favorite lounge chair, when he heard Justin call out to him from the fence.
“Mr. Eros! Mr. Eros, come and see what my parents got me!” He waved excitedly.
Eros smiled and walked toward the fence, where he could see what Justin was holding in one hand. Proudly, the boy lifted it higher.
“See this? I’ve got my own bow!”
“That’s wonderful, Justin! You’re such a pro now.” Eros looked at the bow. It was larger than his own and a lot more modern.
From the deck, Mrs. Clayton appeared and greeted him, “Hi! Justin couldn’t wait to show you. He would have knocked at your door at five in the morning, if I hadn’t stopped him and told him not to bother you.”
“Mom!” Justin admonished.
“No worries, Mrs. Clayton. It’s no bother at all.”
“Are you gonna watch the competition this afternoon?” Justin asked eagerly.
“Do you want me to?”
He bobbed his head several times.
“Then of course I’ll be there.”
Justin smiled, clearly relieved that his coach would be there to cheer him on, and leaned over the fence, lowering his voice. “What if everybody else is better than me?”
“They’re not,” Eros assured him. “But you should practice with this bow a little before you compete, alright? Just to get a feel for it.”
Justin nodded. “The teacher told me that everybody is allowed to practice on the real targets before they start the competition.”
“Perfect.”
“Justin, I made you a snack. You should eat something,” his mother said as she walked toward the fence.
“Okay,” he said reluctantly, then looked back at Eros. “It starts at three.”
“I’ll be there.”
Justin walked up the stairs to the deck as his mother came to the fence. She looked over her shoulder and waited until Justin had disappeared in the house, before she spoke.
“He’s nervous, but I think he feels better now that you’ve agreed to come to the sports festival and watch him. I really don’t know how to thank you.”
“It’ll be a pleasure watching him compete this afternoon. Maybe I’ll bring my girlfriend, if she has time.” After all, it was Saturday, and Psyche was probably closing the shop early anyway.
“Lovely. I’d love to meet her,” Mrs. Clayton said. “Well, I’d better get everything ready for later. Thanks again, Mr. Eros.”
“I’ll see you at the school this afternoon,” he responded, and watched Mrs. Clayton walk up to the deck.
28
Justin’s school had a decent size sports stadium with a small section of comfortable covered seats in case of rain, and bleachers around the rest of the oval track. In its center, in the grassy area, equipment for various athletics had been arranged, while on the tracks around the field, students were warming up for their sprints.
Holding Psyche’s hand, Eros navigated through the throngs of people and found empty seats close to the sectioned-off area where the archery competition would take place. For safety reasons, nobody was allowed in the seats behind the targets, just in case a student were to overshoot.
“Can you see him?” Psyche asked as she sat down next to Eros.
“I’m looking for him.” Eros scanned the area where a group of children was congregating around two adults—most likely the referees or some other school officials—and tried to pick Justin out of the crowd. “He must be with that group down there.”
Psyche leaned into him. “You know it’s really nice of you to do this for Justin.”
He turned his head and looked at her. “Do what?”
“Teach him, support him, you know. It’s really sweet.”
He chuckled and put his arm around her back, drawing her closer. “How sweet?”
Psyche threw her head back and laughed out loud. “You’re terrible!”
“I can’t be all that terrible,” he protested, then dropped his voice so low only she could hear him. “Or you wouldn’t be spending every night in my bed.”
She met his eyes. Affection sparkled in them, and for a moment only the two of them existed. He pulled her closer, his mouth almost touching hers.
“Mr. Eros! Mr. Eros!”
Eros whirled his head in the direction of the voice. Justin stood at the edge of the track, waving madly.
“Hey Justin!” he yelled back over the general noise in the stadium.
“It’s not working!”
“What?”
“The bow! It’s not working.” Justin lifted the bow his parents had given him and pointed to it. “I can’t hear it. It doesn’t sing to me.”
He released Psyche, who cast him a curious look. “What’s Justin talking about?”
“Excuse me for a minute. He’s probably just nervous. I’ll talk to him.” Eros rose and sauntered down to where Justin was standing. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“This. All of it. I can’t shoot with this. It’s not working like your bow.” He dropped his head. “I’m gonna lose. And everybody will laugh at me. And my parents will be so disappointed.” He motioned to his left, and Eros caught a glimpse of the Claytons purchasing drinks from a vendor.
Eros crouched down to be face-to-face with Justin. “Listen, Justin, this bow is not much different than mine. You’re just nervous. That’s normal. I’ve seen you shoot at home. You’re very good. You’re talented.”
Justin sniffled. “But the bow doesn’t sing to me. I can’t hear it. When I hold yours, I know what to do.” He motioned to the modern bow in his hand. “This one does nothing.”
Eros sighed. Maybe he should have gotten Justin used to another bow earlier. It was his fault, not the boy’s. That’s why he had to help him now. “How about I let you use my bow for the competition?”
Justin pointed to the large clock in the stadium. “But it’s too late. You’ll never have the bow here in time.”
Eros smiled. “It’s in the car. I brought it just in case.”
Justin suddenly threw his arms around Eros. “You’re the best!”
“Let me go get it. Stay here, okay?”
Justin nodded.
Eros walked up to the stands again and called out to Psyche, “Back in a minute. I just need to get something from the car.” But he didn’t go to the car, because the bow wasn’t in there. Instead he walked to the nearest building, the indoor sports arena, entered and looked around. The corridor was empty.
In a flash, he teleported to his house and retrieved the bow. A few seconds later, he teleported back, reappearing in the sports hall without anybody noticing, bow in hand.
He walked back outside. When he reached Justin, his parents stood next to him. Justin handed his modern bow to his father, then reached for Eros’s bow.
“Thank you!”
“Mr. Eros,” Mr. Clayton said, “I’m so sorry that Justin is giving you so much trouble.”
Eros shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should have gotten Justin used to a modern bow before the competition. Mine is nothing like the kind of modern equipment kids use these days. It would be the same as teaching somebody tennis with a wooden racket, and then expecting him to compete with a fiberglass one.”
Mr. Clayton ran a hand over his son’s head. “Well, I guess you’re right.” Then he extended his hand. “Thank you very much.”
Eros shook Mr. Clayton’s hand. “Anytime.” Then he looked at Justin. “Now, you do as I taught you. Check your stance, aim, and relax. Can you do that?”
“Yes!”
“And guard that bow. It might look old, but it’s dear to my heart.”
As Justin nodded and marched off, Mrs. Clayton said, “I’ll make sure he returns the bow to you whole.”
“I have no doubt, Mrs. Clayton.”
Eros walked back to his seat and joined Psyche.
“You gave him your bow?”
“I lent it to him, yes. He’s having a hard time with the modern one. I’ll have to get him used to it at some point.”
“Hmm. Why do you have such an old bow anyway? Aren’t they made of fiberglass these days, with all the bells and whistles?” she asked, pointing to the field. “Yours is made of wood, isn’t it?”
“It’s an heirloom. I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.” Because the bow was part of him, part of what made him the god of love. He could never get rid of it. But could he ever shoot it again in the way he was meant to?
“Oh, they’re starting,” Psyche said. “Look!”
“Great!”
Eros directed his gaze down to the field and watched as the first student, a girl, took her place and aimed at the target. He couldn’t help but admire her perfect stance. When she released the first arrow, it hit the target in one of the inner rings, a good start. She would certainly be a tough competitor for Justin.
For almost an hour, eleven children traded places and each delivered an initial three shots, whittling down the field to four. Justin had made the cut. He looked up to the stands and waved. Eros waved back, smiling. He was proud of Justin, who’d come really far in such a short time.
“Let’s see how he does in the finals. They’ll probably start in a few minutes,” Eros said.
“I’d better run to the bathroom quickly. Do you want me to bring you something to drink on my way back?” Psyche asked, rising.
“I’m good. I figured we’ll leave after Justin’s part is over. We can go to a little bar I know if you want to.”
“Sounds great. Back in a flash.” She left her seat and walked up the steps.
Eros watched as she disappeared in the crowd, then focused his attention back on Justin and his competitors. They only took a short break, before the referee determined the order in which the four finalists would shoot their last three arrows.
The first boy seemed to have lost his nerve under pressure. Two of his arrows landed in the white at the edge of the target, only one hit near the center. Letting his head drop, he trudged off the field. The girl Eros had admired earlier was next. All her arrows hit the target, two in the red, and one in the blue ring. All three were very good shots, even though she hadn’t hit the yellow center.
The third student, another boy, did well, but he couldn’t beat the girl. Justin was last. He looked over his shoulder before he took his place, and Eros stood up so Justin knew he was watching. Seemingly satisfied, Justin took his place.
Eros watched as his student adjusted his stance, placed the arrow at the string, and hooked the string with his fingers. He saw him visibly exhale and calm himself.
“Good,” Eros murmured to himself. “Just relax.”
The first arrow landed in the red, the second ring. Eros pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”
Justin took his time to prepare for the second shot. He adjusted his hips and aimed. The arrow landed in the blue ring.
Eros exhaled. If Justin hit his third arrow in the red again, he’d be even with the girl, another arrow in the blue or even the black meant he would lose. But if he could hit the yellow, he would win. And Eros wanted Justin to win. It would give him the confidence he needed.
“You can do it, Justin,” Eros whispered. “Just remember what I taught you. Listen t
o the bow.” He allowed his voice to travel on the light breeze to reach the boy’s ears, and only his. “Listen to the bow.”
He noticed a calmness come over the boy as he took his stance and prepared. He breathed evenly and released the string. The arrow shot forward, sounding like a whistle as it sliced through the air. Justin’s aim was true. His arrow found the yellow and lodged there.
Eros jumped up in the air, cheering. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
Justin turned around, raising one arm up in the air, the other still holding the bow.
“I won! I won!”
“He won!” Eros yelled and turned to the seat next to him. But the seat was empty. Psyche hadn’t returned yet.
29
Because there’d been long lines in front of the porta potties the school had set up around the perimeter of the stadium, Psyche had decided to try the indoor sports center instead and was in luck. The restrooms there were virtually empty.
As she didn’t want to miss Justin’s performance in the archery finals, she hurried back outside after washing her hands and turned the corner. Startled by the person standing there, she froze.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Wayne said, pushing off the wall of the building, blocking her path.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, guessing that this wasn’t a coincidence. Wayne didn’t like kids, and to her knowledge he had no nieces or nephews whom he might have accompanied to the event.
“You didn’t reply to my text messages. So I thought I’d better make sure they didn’t go to the wrong number. Did you change your number?”
“No.”
“Then you must have gotten them.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I did. And I ignored them.”
“Come on, Psyche, you can’t still be pissed. I’m a changed man. And I still want you.”
“If you were truly a changed man, you’d get the hint.”
“Huh? What do you mean by that?”
She let out an angry breath. “Is it that you don’t want to understand, or that you can’t? I’m not interested in you. Now leave me alone.” She tried to squeeze past him, but he grabbed her and stopped her.