Chapter 34
She glided into the Magnolia, wearing a long dress that hugged slim curves before falling to the floor like a flood of moonlight at her feet.
It was the palest of silvers, decorated with butterflies.
The butterflies also adorned her hair, which flowed down her back, straight and sleek, the color of stalks of wheat basking in the sun.
Psyche’s beauty had not been understated. Not even a little.
As I rushed downstairs to greet them, the butterflies fluttered their wings, such a subtle movement I thought I might have imagined it. But when I drew near and extended my hand, they flitted off of her for a brief moment before settling again. Sure enough, she was covered in live butterflies.
“You must be Psyche.” She clasped my hand, brief and light, with a regal nod. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”
Cupid’s grin seemed too big for his face. He nudged me with his elbow. “Psyche came.”
“I see that.” Despite my own sadness, Cupid’s joy was contagious enough to draw a smile from me. “Let’s head into the office and get started.”
As we settled in, I had the chance to witness Cupid’s devotion to Psyche firsthand.
There were a thousand microexpressions of it that she likely no longer noticed.
The way he waited until she sat to do the same.
The sidelong glances that brought the faintest smile to his lips.
The awe in his eyes, as if he still couldn’t quite believe she was his.
It made his behavior that much more frustrating.
He’d been willing to let someone he cherished leave rather than set aside his ego and face his fears.
Despite that, I had to make the most of Psyche’s presence while she was here.
If he was going to find a way to counteract all of the arrows he’d shot en masse, she’d be the key to it.
“Welcome,” I said, pulling out my notepad. “Let’s start with a recap. Cupid, what do you want to tell me about your weekend?”
“We spent it in bed.” Cupid leered at his wife, who visibly cringed. “Well, last night,” he added, completely misreading her response.
“I see,” I said, then turned to his embarrassed wife. “Psyche, how does it make you feel to hear him tell me that?”
Psyche gave me a slight nod, my only clue that she’d heard me. She waited a minute or two before speaking. I found myself leaning forward to hear what she was going to say. “His remark tells me that he still doesn’t understand why I agreed to this meeting.”
“Okay, let’s start there.” I sat back and set my pen down. “Is it safe to assume you are not here because you wish to reconcile with Cupid?”
“Actually, yes,” Psyche said with approval. “That is a correct assumption.”
“Wait.” Cupid went still in his chair, his exuberance fading. “You’re not?”
“No, darling.” She crossed her legs, regal and composed. “That is not my purpose.”
Poor Cupid. Despite all the trouble he’d caused, he was still a puppy dog at heart. I cleared my throat. “Can you tell us, then, what made you agree to come to therapy with Cupid after all this time?”
Again, Psyche took a beat. I was coming to understand that Psyche wasted nothing. Not actions. Not words. And definitely not time. “Actually, it was you, Simone.”
“Me?” Internally, I clenched. It was an understatement to say I’d been persistent in my phone calls. Though I’d stopped calling every hour, I’d still reached out multiple times a day, leaving increasingly erratic messages. “Was it my phone calls?”
“Not the frequency, no. But the content.” Her lips twitched, a slight smile that somehow made her even more stunning. “Especially over the weekend.”
I made a hmm sound, as if I knew exactly what I’d said over the weekend.
I’d been horribly unprofessional with Cupid since the beginning, and that behavior had extended to Psyche.
The last thing I wanted was to admit that I had no idea what I, in a state of total heartbreak, might have uttered to someone I thought was no longer listening.
“What did you say?” Cupid asked. Of course he wasn’t going to let me off the hook.
Luckily, Psyche was astute enough to read my evasion.
Her smile grew, and she took Cupid’s hand.
“Simone told me that she’d heard only one side of the story for months.
She guaranteed me she wouldn’t attempt to force me to reconcile with you, despite what you might say.
She only wanted to gain a greater understanding of the situation so she could continue to help you. ”
Huh. Go me. That was actually pretty good. But Cupid didn’t get it. He frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“May I?” I asked Psyche, waiting for her to gesture before I answered. “I was ensuring that Psyche knew she was safe in this space, just like you are. That my intent was not to force a reconciliation on your behalf. She’s here to help me help you.”
“But why?” Cupid’s voice took on a whiny pitch. “Why can’t you help us reconcile?”
“Cupid.” Psyche’s voice took on the tone of a patient teacher on the brink. She’d explained this to him before, likely dozens of times. Probably the night before, when she took him to bed. “I don’t believe you can change.”
“I’m changing!” Cupid was on his knees, which I admit was alarming. He buried his face in her lap. “My arrow. My darling heart.”
She looked to the ceiling, closing her eyes to release the tears.
I felt for her. Leaving Cupid had not been an act of malice or, worse, indifference.
She was in as much pain as he was. I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if I’d left Jeff, proactively countering his disconnection from our marriage.
I suspected that, in the end, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome.
I’d never loved Jeff the way these two loved each other. Gradually, Cupid returned to his chair, wearing the expression of a man whose favorite sports car had just been totaled.
I didn’t want to be, but part of me was suspicious. Cupid was a known trickster, and he’d messed with me before. I didn’t know Psyche, and though she didn’t give off the vibe of a woman who liked to cause trouble, she was married to him. Anything was possible.
It had been a while since a client had challenged me in such a way. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was in an audition for a role I neither wanted nor felt qualified to play.
Cupid turned to me, eyes imploring.
“This is hard for you, Cupid. But I’m here to help you explain. And Psyche obviously still respects you enough as an individual to be here as well.”
“No,” he said, his voice so soft and broken that even Cecelia sent waves of sympathy to him.
“You have to understand, Cupid, that she didn’t leave to hurt you. And it was not a decision she made lightly. Am I right so far, Psyche?”
Psyche gave me another nod.
“We talked about what she went through to be with you. Hell. Literally. A lot has to happen to get from hell to heaven and back again.”
“Your assumption is correct.” Psyche turned to her husband. “Last night was … a slip. A lovely mistake.”
Despite her composure, her voice broke. I found it interesting that she might make a slip, given how careful she was, and more so that she would admit it. It heightened my own sadness to see how plainly and deeply they loved one another.
“A mistake.” Cupid whispered the words in disbelief. “You’re still leaving me.”
“We are to remain separated,” Psyche said, her words clipped and formal, as if she could create distance by donning a mask of coolness.
Cupid was, finally, beginning to lose hope.
And though I’d claimed, time and again, that I wouldn’t get in between them, it made me want to.
From the few minutes we’d spent together, it was clear Psyche understood their relationship had never been based on the arrow.
They’d grown together and knew one another.
It was that knowledge, sadly, that had finally allowed her to leave.
I wouldn’t try to help them reconcile. It was not my place to unless they asked, but I did hope they could leave this session with a greater understanding of their paths forward. Together or apart.
“I do want to point out that Cupid has changed.” They both turned to me as I finished my wandering thoughts out loud. “I’m sorry, I was pondering in my head. But if I may?”
Cupid, who’d been rendered speechless by Psyche’s admission, nodded furiously. I could see it in him, those last dregs of desperation. He finally understood he was drowning and would grab any lifeline I threw him.
“You two fell in love in the dark. Quite literally. But you built your marriage in the light. You saw one another for who you were while simultaneously exposing the parts of yourselves that no one else had been willing to find. But when you diminish Psyche’s feelings, Cupid, or simplify the complexity of your romance, you become the stranger in the dark who only reached part of her. ”
To my complete surprise, Psyche uttered a squeak. It wasn’t a sound I’d expected to hear from someone so composed. Apparently, I’d touched on something she’d been unable to express to him. And while Cupid was listening to me, he was watching her face, seeing the signs of those truths.
“She loved the man in the dark. She loves him still. But the man in the light keeps disappearing when life gets difficult or … mundane.” I rapped on the desk to get Cupid’s attention.
“The man in the light is the one who chose to counteract the effects of his arrow to save a couple he’d put in jeopardy.
The man in the dark is the one who ran to Psyche to brag about it. ”
Cupid had clothes on. I hadn’t seen him transform, but there they were. And there was more. He looked more human than I’d ever seen before. His hair was blond, but less golden. His eyes still sparkled, but not ethereally. He was an attractive man.
But not a god.
Though, from the look in Psyche’s eyes, that was exactly what she saw. It must have taken every ounce of her strength to walk out on him, to choose her own happiness for once. I had to admire that she’d done the very thing I’d been afraid to do with my now ex-husband.
I wanted to tell her, from experience, that there was life after the breakdown. That there would be fresh pain and a desire to hold on to the past from time to time, but she’d find the version of Psyche who existed without Cupid. Just like I’d found my own version of Simone.
I wanted to, but I was Cupid’s therapist, not hers, so I did my job instead. “Cupid, how does that make you feel?”
“Really sad.” He swiveled his head from me to her, then back to me. “I want to be the man in the light. I truly do. I don’t know how.”
“And I believe Psyche came in today to ensure I knew what I needed to help you become, and remain, that man.” I paused to let my next sentence land. “No matter what happens with your marriage.”
Cupid winced, the weight of his situation landing on him like piles of bricks. But, at least for once, he didn’t fight back or deflect. “I want that, too.”
“Okay.” I swallowed the urge to cry. Again. For Cupid, who was accepting his fate. And for myself, who would have to do the same. “Then let’s make good use of Psyche’s time.”
I stayed in my office long after the session ended. I hid through lunch and into the afternoon, trying unsuccessfully to nap at my desk.
In the end, while she was gracious and honest, Psyche hadn’t been the answer to our arrow problem that I’d hoped.
Looking back, it was unfair of me to assume she would be.
I’d put the responsibility for Cupid’s behavior on his wife rather than focusing on his own accountability.
I’d treated him like a child, and her like his mother. Just as I’d behaved in my own marriage.
Ultimately, the only person who could change Cupid would be Cupid. And with less than a week left until Valentine’s Day, I had to work on my own acceptance. If we couldn’t locate and counteract every arrow, there would be people and beings who’d live a life without intimacy.
Join the club.