Eros

Chapter 22: Broken

The night was so silent, so tranquil, so beautiful. How she longed for the same internal calm. The gardens below beckoned her at last—like they always had whenever she felt misaligned. Sudden peace embraced her, and cricket song serenated her like an old friend.

Angie leaned forward and spied the trellis, but her hair floated over her shoulders, blocking her view. With a glower, she shook it away. She was very close to cutting it, but when it came right down to it, she didn't have the heart. Long hair was her mother's trademark. So Angie decided to keep it.

She found the wisteria-covered lattice and shook it, testing its sturdiness. Would it still hold her weight? An overpowering yearning lured her into the night. She swung her leg over the railing, her hands fast to the woodwork.

Angie touched ground, a slight pressure beneath her toes, and sighed. She still had her touch. With a little skip, she moved quickly into the shadowy gardens. To the maze. She knew the maze by heart. At its center stood an amazing figure of Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of Love. Why her dad was fascinated over the gods of old, she couldn't guess.

Inhibitions. Heartbreak. Loss. Angie didn't want to care anymore; she ached to feel that same carefree innocence that was once hers before Greece—a state of mind she worked pretty hard for after her mother. She laughed as the dewy grass whispered between her toes. The velvety air glided over her skin as she ran. Faster. The maze soon slid into view and she came to a sudden stop, bending slightly as she struggled for breath.

Angie was alone. So alone, the silence called her name.

Smiling, she stepped into the maze. After several winds, turns, and a few backtrackings, Angie found her. The Goddess of Love. Her chest constricted and the crushing weight of everything passed forced her to her knees, tears filling her eyes.

The goddess's head bowed halfway, her amazing curls pulled into cascades of locks that covered her bosom. A single wide sash wrapped her crown, rippling down in folds about her bare body as clothing would. Her mouth was a small curve, her deep eyes intelligent.

She knew it was silly, childish even, but Angie longed for balance. So she spoke, "Aphrodite," she began, swallowing the quivering knot in her throat, "how I-I wish you were real. I want Eros to love me." She dropped forward upon her hands, the lip of the base supporting her. "How I want him to love me. Am, am I so repulsive that he detests me? Am I?" She raised her face, begging the silent marble.

She rose to her feet and stepped onto the small dais, her arms wrapping around the statue's ribcage. Aphrodite was smooth and cool but strong. "Eros is your son—bound in mortal form, is he not?" She swallowed hard, using her lyrical speech she had once used in a play when she was a freshman.

Angie stared at the lifeless face for a long time until she felt stupid. She lowered herself, too weak to find her way back.

She was going nuts, talking to a statue, pretending that a boy could be an ancient god. Aphrodite's crisp form soon blurred until nothing was left but darkness. Angie had closed her eyes, and chuckled until it mutated into deranged laughter. Tears slid over her cheeks.

"Boy, I deserve to be burned at the stake."

Angie wrapped her arm around the goddess slender feet as best as she could, resting her head against her wrist with a staggering sigh. The night was warm and good.

* * *

"Angie?"

She moaned, batting the air with a limp hand. She stirred, sleep sinking her body heavy. Wait, wasn't she outside by Aphrodite's feet? She groped around, realizing she was in bed.