Playing Cupid

by SC Alban

  Amadeo immediately reappeared on the bed.

  “Good for you, going with your dad today.”

  “Well, I’m glad you approve.” I couldn’t help the sarcasm as it slipped from my tongue. There was just something about him that drew it out.

  “I hope you’ll find a way to keep yourself busy.” I turned toward my closet, searching for my black wool sweater.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’ll keep occupied.”

  “I’m sure you—” I began as I turned back to face him, but he was already gone.

  After all the time I’d been spending with him, I should’ve been used to it. But I wasn’t. Not at all. I pushed a shiver down. There was something inherently unsettling about someone being present one minute and gone the next. It hit a little too close to home.

  I grabbed a long-sleeved purple thermal with little owls on it from my dresser and picked up my pair of dark wash jeans crumpled on the floor. I shook them out and made sure there were no huge stains on them before tossing them over my shoulder. My black wool sweater had been hidden under two other sweaters thrown over the arm of a chair in the corner of the room. Pulling it out from under the pile, I draped it over my arm and headed into the bathroom.

  It only took about twenty minutes to shower and change. I gave myself a final glance in the mirror and wondered if I should take the time to apply a little makeup. I tilted my head at my reflection. Mom always wore a little lipstick. With a quick application of mascara and a flash of lip-gloss later, I was ready to go.

  I blew out a shaky breath as I ran my fingers through my hair one last time. My caramel locks tangled from the light moisture in my palms. Clammy palms, I should’ve figured. I untangled my hand from the mess and wiped my hands with a towel. I was nervous, but I hadn’t expected to be so nervous. My insides jiggled like Jell-O as I pulled my hair into a ponytail and braided it into one thick plait.

  I examined my reflection. With a little makeup, my mother’s eyes looked back at me in consternation. A shiver ran up my spine. Why hadn’t I gone before? What had held me back? My father had been regularly visiting my mother’s grave since her passing. Hell, he practically lived there, visiting four to five times a week…sometimes more. I, on the other hand, had chosen to keep my distance. And since he never pushed, I never initiated. Where he felt called, I was repelled.

  Again, I wondered…did Mom know I hadn’t visited? Would it have even made a difference? Maybe if I had gone with Dad to the cemetery, we would’ve reconciled sooner. I shook my head. No, I couldn’t go there. There was no use in looking back. What was done was done. What mattered now was that I was going today. I was going with Dad. And maybe, for a short time, we would all be together again.

  A family.

  My eyes stung. The tears fell freely down my cheeks now, streaking my mascara. Maybe makeup hadn’t been such a good idea. I grabbed a tissue from the sink and quickly blotted away the black streaks.

  “C’mon,” I said to myself. “You can do this. Be strong.”

  I inhaled one last deep breath before flipping the bathroom light off. Grabbing my phone off my desk, I slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans and took off down the stairs.

  “That didn’t take long,” Dad said as I entered the kitchen. He stood in front of the stove where he was making breakfast. “I was thinking about having something to eat before we left. I thought Christmas morning would be a perfect opportunity for me to make something special.”

  “Oh right, Christmas,” I whispered. With my thoughts focused on visiting Mom, I had briefly forgotten it was Christmas day. Maybe Mom had sent the snow as a present. “Umm, that’d be great, thanks,” I said as I sat down at the table. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  The kitchen smelled delicious as he cooked pancakes. The scent of maple syrup was thick in the air as it warmed on the stove. We didn’t talk, but it was comfortable. Instead of forcing a conversation, I slid over the newspaper and read the front page of the Mountain Valley Gazette. I made my way through articles about cows roaming the highway, the town hall meeting to discuss the theme for the Founder’s Day Festival next September, and the recommendations by the water district on how to freeze-proof your pipes before Dad stood over my shoulder, skillet in hand.

  “I hope it’s not too corny.” He slid two smiley-faced pancakes onto the plate in front of me.

  The fluffy brown circles stared up at me. Each one was adorned with a chocolate chip face and whipped cream hair. When was the last time he’d made them? Five years ago? Six? It’d been too long. A small flutter radiated in my core. I looked up and smiled.

  “Too much?” His eyes were anxious, his lips drawn in a tight line.

  “No,” I said, the flutter now spreading across my chest. “It’s not corny at all. It looks delicious.”

  I grabbed a fork and began eating. They tasted exactly as I remembered. He pulled up a chair and began to work on his own plate.

  We sat and ate our breakfast in silence, but I didn’t mind. It wasn’t the awkward, uncomfortable moment people feel the need to fill, but more of the cozy acceptance that happens when there just isn’t much that needs to be said. And that was perfectly okay with me.

  It was a little after ten o’clock when we arrived at the cemetery. I followed as Dad led the way to Mom’s site. When we reached the spot, I hesitated. I had no idea what came next. My hands began to sweat inside my gloves.

  “What do I do?”

  “Well,” he said, “there’s really not any set way to do this. You can do what you’d like. I like to just sit here and talk to her. I tell her what’s been going on, how I feel, and sometimes ask for advice. I don’t know if she hears me, but I like to believe she does.”

  I nodded in understanding as I approached the headstone.

  Elizabeth Ann Cooper

  Wife. Mother. Angel.

  1974 – 2014

  Angel wings were carved underneath the inscription in the dark gray marble. My eyes widened a bit as I noticed how similar they were to Amadeo’s. A single rose, in full bloom, was etched in the top center.

  “Do you think I could have some time just by myself?” I rocked back and forth on my heels, my feet refusing to be still.

  Dad walked over to me and kissed the top of my head. I closed my eyes at the contact. It was the first time he’d kissed me in years. I released a long, silent exhale.

  “Of course. Just let me know when you’re ready to go. I’ll go take a walk over by the Veteran’s Memorial.”

  He stuffed his hands further down into his heavy coat’s pockets and slowly walked away. His feet left a trail of prints in the snow. I stood in front of the grave for a moment, unable to move. After a few minutes, I crouched down near the base of the headstone and noticed a small laminated picture of me from eighth grade graduation.

  Dad must’ve brought this.

  My lips drew into a thin line on my face. My chest clenched. He’d been coming here alone for so many years. Why had I never come before? I shifted uneasily on the frozen ground.

  “Uh, hi, Mom…it’s me, Megan, though you probably already know that.” I laughed uncomfortably. “Anyway, it’s Christmas today. Umm, Dad invited me to come with him. He’s, uh, he’s just walking around right now.

  “I wanted—” I swallowed sharply as my voice broke and I fought the oncoming tears. “I wanted to tell you everything’s going to be okay. You know, between me and Dad. I don’t know if you’ve been worrying about us, but I just wanted to say it.”

  I inhaled deeply.

  “I don’t know if you’re here, if you know what’s going on. I mean, I hope you are, but I’m not really sure how this works, if you see what I’ve been up to or anything. Uh, not sure if you know, but I’m graduating early. I’ll be starting college next semester, so that’s cool.” I let the silence embrace me. I bit my lip. “I know what you must be thinking. Things have gotten a little weird down here recently, but I don’t want you to wor
ry; it’s only a little setback. And I’m trying to make it right. Despite what Amadeo may believe, I’ll get things back on track. Just wait.”

  I took a shaky breath and glanced around at the empty cemetery. In the far distance, Dad walked through the memorial garden for war veterans, all the rose bushes pruned back and wrapped to protect against the snow. I turned back to my mother’s grave.

  “But really, I don’t know if I ever will really get back on track because…” My voice tripped as the tears pushed against the back of my eyes. I tried to keep them contained, tried to remain calm, but they crashed through my walls, tossing every brick aside as they erupted, spilling down my cheeks.

  “I miss you, Mom,” I sobbed, no longer able to hold it all in. “I miss you so much, and I just need you. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t think I ever have. Every day, I wake up and just try to get through it. Every day. I feel empty. Like there’s nothing there for me to grab, nothing to hold on to. Every day, it’s the same type of numb.

  “Everything is so different without you, and I don’t know how I’m going to live the rest of my life knowing you’ll never say my name again, or give me a hug, or do your ridiculous dance moves just to make me laugh.” I choked on my tears.

  “But most of all, Mom, I just wish you were here. I wish you were here to smile, and hold me, and just be with me. I want you to be proud of me. I want to make you proud.

  “I want you to tell me I’m doing a good job, just like you used to. And listen to the sound of your voice again. I’m always worrying that I’ll forget it, but really, I’m terrified I already have. I don’t want to not remember your voice.”

  My breath came to me in shallow gasps and I blinked hard.

  “There are so many things I need you for. There are too many things I’ve already done without you and there are too many more to go.” My fists hit my knees. “How could you leave? It’s not fair! I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I just…I just need you here so much.”

  I fell to my hands and knees. I didn’t even try to stifle the pain that crushed my heart. There was no air, and my lungs burned with each sob. I cried and cried, my head dipping down until my forehead touched the snow. There was no noise, no light. I couldn’t feel the snow I lay upon, couldn’t sense its coldness. There was an immense sensation of emptiness, a pain so encompassing I never thought I’d be released from its grip. Did I even deserve to be freed?

  I don’t know how many minutes passed, how long I cried into the snow, but I stayed until there were no more tears. Time ceased to matter. There was nothing more I could lose. My body was spent from the emotion that escaped me, and after a while, I just lay there in the snow, the frozen ground numbing my grief.

  “Megan?” My father’s voice was tentative.

  His steps crunched as he approached and sat down beside me. His hand rested on my back and around my shoulders as he gently lifted me and brought me close to his chest. The moment his arms encompassed me, the tears returned. Grief wrapped around us like a lead blanket. The very thing that had pushed us apart now held us together. The weight of it pinned me down. I feared being pulled deep into the earth, it was so heavy. I wrapped my arms tight around Dad and squeezed, glad he was there to hold onto me, to keep me above ground.

  “I miss her so much,” I said between shaky breaths. “It hurts. It hurts so bad, I don’t know how I’m going to live the rest of my life like this.”

  “I know, baby, I know. I feel it, too.” His voice was also strained from crying. “I miss her so much every day. From the moment she left, I just didn’t know a person could hurt so much. The pain, it cuts into your heart. It shocks you. Like I was dead inside, except it was worse because I wasn’t. I had to go on without her. I just couldn’t move past my own pain.

  “But now I understand I just didn’t lose her; I left you, too.” His arms squeezed me tighter. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to say it enough.”

  I squeezed tighter, holding on to him with every bit of strength I had left. Yes, he’d left me. Mom had died, and Dad had abandoned me. But he’d been alone, too. He’d gone through the emptiness alone, just as I had. I slowly relaxed my grip, my body loosening as a different sort of warmth spread through me and the last streaks of lingering anger slipped away.

  Though it’d taken us almost six years, we were finally turning a corner. We were going to make it as a family. It wouldn’t be the same family, but I would never give up on it again.

  “I love you, Dad,” I said between sniffs. “And I think we’re gonna be okay.”

  The warmth of the unsteady breath he let out gusted through my knit hat as we sat for a few minutes more. Finally, when even the silence faded away, he spoke.

  “C’mon, let’s go home. It’s Christmas. How about we start a fire and cook something special for dinner?” He grabbed my hand and helped me up.

  Dusting off the fresh snow from her headstone, we rearranged the flowers we had brought and stood for a final moment. After saying our goodbyes, we strode back to the truck, Dad’s arm around my shoulders.

  “You know,” I replied as I hopped into the cab, “I took out one of your chickens from the freezer yesterday. We could roast it and maybe make a Waldorf salad.”

  “You know how to make that?”

  I smiled. “Yep. And maybe even a berry tart for dessert.”

  His lips curved upward. Tears glistened in his eyes, but he held them in.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I flipped on the radio and leaned back, listening to the quiet melodies of familiar holiday songs as they floated through the speakers and let the landscape pass me by as we headed home for our first real Christmas in years.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The day after Christmas, I entered the barn looking for Amadeo, my intention clear in my mind. Still feeling guilty about the Jay incident, I resolved to find him a perfect match—someone who would love and support him through his difficult moments, someone he deserved—and I wanted to make sure Amadeo knew I was fully committed to the mission. There was so much about Jay I hadn’t known. He deserved to have his true love, and I was ready to help him find the one.

  “Okay, Amadeo, you ready to go?” I asked, walking into his makeshift living room. He didn’t look up when I spoke; he was furiously writing notes in his little book.

  “Whatcha doing?” I asked. What was so enthralling he couldn’t even take the time to make a snide remark? It was so unlike him.

  “Nothing important,” he quickly responded, shutting his book with a snap and putting it away. “Just making some notes about this final mark. This Jay guy is quite an enigma.”

  “How so?” I asked. What was so confusing? Jay equaled good guy, equaled deserved a perfect match. It was all pretty clear to me…for once.

  Amadeo brushed his hands through his hair, tucking his blond curls behind his ears. “I’ve been thinking about some of your impressions of this Jay guy, and you know what? Maybe he’s not ready for love.”

  “What?”

  “Well, it just seems to me that he’s got a lot to handle right now, and perhaps he may not be as open to it as he should be.”

  My jaw practically hit the barn floor. I couldn’t believe my ears. Was Amadeo giving up on his quota?

  As if reading my mind, he added, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I can always petition to switch a name out for another one. I mean, it’s rare, and generally looked down upon, but it has been known to happen. And of course that means Jay’s name may never end up on another arrow for as long as he’s alive. Plus, the mark could be located anywhere in the world, but—”

  “What happened to ‘the heart wants what the heart wants’ and all that other stuff you said earlier? I can’t believe you’re giving up on him before you even give him a chance.”

  “Perhaps, but it may be worse if we don’t find him a match. You said it yourself. He’s an arrogant, doubly smug, irritating jerk. Now we find out there’s also major baggage to go along with his
personality issues. Who’s gonna want to deal with that? No, I just don’t see it happening. He should really be past all those things before finding his true love. You know, living his best life, etcetera, etcetera.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small silver orb the size of a ping pong ball.

  “Wait. What’s that?” I asked, panic blossoming in my stomach.

  “This?” He held up the silver sphere. “Just an amare tempus. It’s to contact the realm in case of emergencies. One kiss, and my request to switch names will be submitted to the elders.”

  He brought the orb slowly to his lips.

  “No! Stop! Amadeo, wait,” I shouted. “Don’t do this. Please. Look, I know what I said about Jay, but I…I…maybe I was too quick to judge. Maybe, more than anything, he needs love right now, and that’s why his name is on your list. I know I painted him as less than favorable…”

  Amadeo threw me a sideways glance.

  “Okay, I gave a bad impression of the guy. But for all those bad qualities I mentioned, there are also equally good qualities.”

  “I’m not buying it. Sounds like backpedaling.”

  “No, no, it’s true!”

  “Okay, so convince me. What are some of these good qualities?”

  “Well, for one, he is always giving compliments to other people. I’ve never heard him say a mean thing about anyone.”

  “That’s all well and good, Megan, but you’re telling me things a young child should do. No major kudos there. What else you got?”

  I searched my brain, trying to come up with some argument that would get Amadeo to put away that orb.

  “Okay, how about this? He gets good grades, which shows he’s smart. He’s athletic, which demonstrates he takes care of his body. He’s respectful of teachers, he’s a decent cook, and despite the hardship he’s going through, he always has a smile on his face.”

  Whoa. That was quite a list. Why had I only paid attention to the negatives before? Amadeo’s eyes gazed into the distance as if mulling over my argument. I waited, breath held, for his final ruling.