Heat creeps into my chest; I’m ashamed it does it now, of all times.
“Thank you,” he says. “I haven’t told anyone else.”
“Sometimes, it’s easier to confide in a stranger,” I say.
“Is that what we are, Lou?” I wonder if the look on his face mirrors what he sees on mine. That strange warmth. A connection that defies what my mind says is true. I shake my head. “I don’t think so either.”
“I’ve told you things I’ve never told others, too,” I admit.
“Because you think we’re strangers?”
“Because you’re easy to talk to,” I say. “Because you seem safe.”
Silently, we stare at each other. Juliet tells Paige the story of Psyche and Eros. A tale of a beautiful mortal princess, who, Venus, in her jealous rage, commands her son Eros to shoot with his Cupid’s arrow so that she’d fall in love with the most horrible creature.
Juliet spins words while blood spins in my veins and something stirs in Grady’s eyes.
Eros can’t help but fall in love with Psyche, himself. The god marries her, but visits her only at night, commanding her never to look upon his face.
How long could I go without looking at Grady’s? A month ago, it was utterly unknown to me. Today, it’s my favorite. If I were to go blind at this moment, would I remember the details? The small, jagged scar to the left of his chin. The way one side of his mouth is nearly always hitched up in a slight smirk. The freckles on his right cheek resemble a constellation I can’t name. Maybe, I’ll name it myself. Asclepius, perhaps. The god of healing and rejuvenation.
Eventually, Psyche breaks the rules and looks upon her love. As punishment, he abandons her.
Without breaking his gaze, Grady reaches his hand to mine. Slowly. So damn slowly, I think I’ll age in my waiting.
Venus gives Psyche a series of impossible tasks to complete in order to win Eros back. She persists. Determined to stand by his side.
My breath hitches when his fingertips slide over where mine rest on the arm of the wooden chair. I feel it deep in my chest rather than my limb. Inwardly. Spiritually. Otherworldly.
Jupiter, impressed by Psyche’s determination, grants her immortality and a place by her lover’s side for eternity.
“I’ll be your safety, Lou.”
Twelve
Grady
“Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald
False alarm.
Possibly the two best words in the whole fucking English language.
“It looked like there was possibly a little salt on the first image,” my mother says.
They arrived earlier today. Dad finally felt safe to leave the city since Mom’s new results came back yesterday. Clear.
Thank the old gods and the new. Or whatever it is that has control of these things.
“Well, I’m glad they got you back in quickly and took a better look,” I say, pouring her a cup of tea. Peppermint. Always peppermint. “You’re feeling okay?”
“I feel great,” she says. “Honestly, back to my old self. Ready to help my favorite person get her garden growing.”
“She couldn’t be more excited. It’s almost all she talks about.”
“Almost?”
