The Love God

"Gods should be exempt from human passions."

-Euripides, "The Bacchae"

***

As soon as Eros arrived he knew he had a mess on his hands this time.

It was the middle of the night and two people were asleep in the bed in a small, unremarkable human apartment, one of them a man and the other a woman. They were both in love with the other, he knew, but neither realized it yet. Eros plucked the string on his bow while they slept and the red numbers of the clock glowed in the dark, and then he sighed. Why did he always show up for the hard ones?

He pushed the woman's hair back with the tip of a golden arrow. What could her dreams tell him? "This one is...Mia," he said out loud. "Hebrew for 'beloved.' A graduate student. Married but separated. Her husband moved to the East Coast last year.

"They were going to divorce, but now they're talking about reconciling. She loves him, but she doesn't think he's really changed and she's not sure what she wants. And then five days ago, she met..."

He turned to the man.

"...Andrew. Greek, meaning 'man.' Some kind of artist, I think, but not very good. He's been in love with a woman for two years and even bought an engagement ring, but then he lost his nerve. That was four months ago, and now he's beginning to think they're not right for each other.

"His girlfriend is out of town this week, and he went out to a party he'd normally have skipped, not admitting to himself he was hoping to meet a woman. He and Mia hit it off and spent the whole week together, but they didn't so much as kiss until last night, even though they both knew it was inevitable they'd end up in bed sooner or later. Now tomorrow morning they'll have to deal with what just happened."

He straightened up, adjusted his wings, and whistled. "Well, these two are in some serious shit now," he said. "Why don't you all come out and let's talk about it?" And one by one, the shadows around the bed began to stir.

A decision had to be made. It was Eros' job to make sure that people ended up with the right lovers. But it wasn't his job alone; everyone who was interested had a say. After all, there were a lot of love gods to go around, and Eros had never met a god willing to pass up any a chance to meddle with human lives...

First came Nu Wa, the ancient Chinese goddess who sculpted the first men and women from clay and taught them to be lovers. She was a marriage goddess, and Eros had never gotten along with her. (She called him a bad influence, which was an entirely fair characterization.) Even now, standing on the opposite side of the bed, she regarded him the way most people look at dirty laundry.

Erzulie Fréda, a Voodoo spirit and notorious flirt, came next. She wore three weddings rings, one for each of her husbands, and in any love affair she invariably tried to steal the man for herself, although she was also easily bored with such efforts. She sat on the bed next to Andrew and immediately began purring over him. "How sweet," she said.

Ishtar, ancient goddess of fertility and sex, appeared now, taking the form of a beautiful woman with the talons and wings of a bird. She shared Eros' tastes for the illicit and the carnal, but she was dangerous for him too, because she made no secret that she wanted him for herself and considered it a favor to be repaid every time she sided with him on anything.

The last to show was Hathor, Egyptian goddess of love and family, appearing as a woman with the head of a calf, a cobra coiled around her brow like a diadem. Eros didn't know her very well; but she was big on family—she was somehow Ra's mother, daughter, and wife all at the same time, which didn't make any damn sense to him—and tended to favor people settling down.

The five love gods stood in the dark and untidy apartment. They would talk, and then they would vote on what was to be done, and Mia and Andrew would have to live with whatever the consequences were. That was the way of things.

Clearing his throat and plucking his bowstring again, Eros said. "All right, here we all are. And here's these two."

Nu Wa shifted her coils on the floor. She had the lower body of a beautiful snake and the upper body of a beautiful woman, which Eros found immensely appealing even if she was boring and bourgeois.

She said, "The question is: Should these mortals stay with the lovers they've had for years and nurture those affairs into marriages that will sustain them for the rest of their lives?"

Eros jumped in: "OR, should they walk away from tired affairs they never really cared about in favor of something invigorating and new with one another?"

He and Nu Wa glared at each other. No sense pretending to be civil.

"Your friend the Wine God had a hand in this," Ishtar said, picking up an empty bottle from the dresser. "I still think about him whenever I see new grapes on the vine, too green to be plucked. Do you think he still thinks about me?"

Her smile made Eros tense. He already knew she agreed with him, but she might pretend to side with Nu Wa to coerce him into something, and that would mean no end of trouble...

But instead she said, "These two have already fucked, so what's the point of debating it? They're never going to forget about each other now. What's done is done: You can't put rain back in the sky."

"But if you wait long enough, it goes back on its own," said Hathor. She nodded at Nu Wa in a way that told Eros he'd lost her before this even started. "They've still only known each other a little while. In time, this will seem a fleeting thing. But if they choose one another they'll break two other hearts, and then their own. Broken hearts last longer than quick flings."

"There are worse things to break than a heart," Eros said. "If these two never see each other again they'll regret it, and there's nothing worse than regret. Ask anyone who ever gave a damn about anything. But all right, you two think they should play it safe and Ish and I think they shouldn't. That means..."

They realized Erzulie was the only one who hadn't spoken, and each of the other gods groaned. There was an unspoken rule never to let her get into the position of tiebreaker, or else she would milk it all night. Now she sat with Andrew's head pillowed in her lap, stroking his hair and making cooing noises.

"Have you ever seen anything like him? Such scrumptious dreams," she said, sighing. "He's sensitive too; the heart of a poet. He's going to feel so tragically guilty about all of this in the morning. Do you think either of his women are good enough for him, really?"

Ishtar rolled her eyes.

"Maybe we should be finding someone else for him," Erzulie said. "Someone as beautiful and noble as he is. I'll look after him in the meantime. I'm sure that with a little of the right attention—"

Now Ishtar jumped in. "If she's going to do this all night then I'll switch sides just to shut her up."

Erzulie's eyes lit up and soon all of the gods were shouting and pointing fingers and talking over one another, except for Hathor, who quietly pleaded for order. Eros pinched his brow; sometimes he hated this job. Stupid melting pot...

Eventually they got the meeting back in hand, though in the meantime Erzulie had suggested three different curses she planned to lay on Ishtar the next time her back was turned and Nu Wa had accused Eros of "wearing a green hat." (She obviously meant this as an insult, but evidently it lost something in the translation.)

The argument had at least gotten Erzulie off her soapbox. She'd still be the tiebreaker and it was still anyone's guess which way she'd jump, but at least she wouldn't go on all night.

Eros looked at the clock; the red numbers ticked their way toward midnight.Nu Wa settled her coils on the floor again. "We've talked long enough," she said. "We all have other work to do. Are we at a decision?"

"I sure am," said Eros.

"Me too," said Ishtar, already bored. Hathor nodded. Erzulie pouted. In a minute they'd vote, and whichever way it went would change a handful of human lives forever.

Eros looked at the couple, still fast asleep in each other's arms. Well kids, I'll give it my best shot, he thought. Although to be honest, my shots aren't always what they used to be.

***

Sunlight woke Andrew, and when he rolled over Charlotte threw an arm across his naked chest and curled up against his side. He closed his eyes again and thought very hard about the possibility of sleeping the entire day. It was a good morning for sleeping in, after all. A good morning for—

Wait. That wasn't Charlotte. Charlotte was still at that conference in Nevada.

And this didn't look like her place either. That meant...

"Damn," he said.

Mia stirred but didn't wake. He remembered now: They'd stopped for a drink at that new wine bar downtown. They had such a good time they'd bought a bottle together, and then she invited him back to help her drink it. And then...

"Damn," he said again.

In her sleep, Mia had hugged the covers around herself, like a puffy cocoon, leaving one round shoulder still visible. Her complexion was so pale that her white skin seemed luminous. Last night, in the near-dark, she'd practically glowed. Now the morning sun painted her gold and his cock stirred to attention again at the sight of her, but he shut that valve as tightly as he could. He was already in enough trouble.

It took a while to find his pants. He discovered he'd turned his phone off at some point, which would look suspicious as hell if Charlotte had tried to call him. He held his breath while he turned it on, expecting a barrage of late night texts and voicemails...but there was nothing. That was a relief, at least.

Today was Wednesday, which meant Charlotte's flight was due back this afternoon. (It also meant he'd slept through his first two classes, but that seemed such a petty problem right now that it barely counted.) How was he ever going to look her in the face? How was he even going to look at himself in the mirror?

Wait a minute, the mirror...

He ran to the mirror on the closet door, checking himself front and back, then sighed in relief again. All clear: No bites, no scratches, no hickies. Thank god.

Then he spotted Mia's eyes peeping over the covers. She must have seen his routine. He expected her to laugh at him, but she didn't. He crossed his arms over his naked chest; she flopped over on the bed. "Well," she said. "It finally happened."

"Yeah."

She got up and pressed herself against him. It was an odd feeling, sharing a shame. It made him feel even closer to her, which of course didn't help anything now.

"I actually don't feel that guilty," she said. "Is that awful?"

"No. I mean, why should you feel bad? You didn't cheat on anybody."

"Ian."

"You're not really together. Doesn't count."

"Hey! Who are you to tell me my infidelity doesn't count?" She punched him in the arm. "I'll feel bad if I want to."

"Except you don't."

"But I could. Just as bad as you."

"Okay." A pause. "She's coming back today."

"I remember."

"So..."

"Hey, I get it. You won't hear from me."

"It's not like that."

"Yes it is. And that's fine. I knew what I was getting into."

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him lightly. After a second, she kissed him again. A few seconds later they were still kissing and then, haltingly, stumbling back to the bed, slowed by the increasingly frantic touches of each other's lips.

They landed in a heap and curled around each other. She was still naked; he had only his pants on, which they lost in a hurry. The morning sun had heated the sheets to a crisp, inviting coziness. This is a terrible idea, Andrew thought. Last night was bad enough, but now we're not even drunk. Charlotte's plane touches down in five hours. I'm late for everything, and if we don't stop now—

Mia broke off. "Do you want to stop?"

"God no."

"Me neither."

They dove back into each other. This is wrong, Andrew thought. This is really, really wrong. But I don't care.

Andrew pressed Mia's wrists into the headboard while she squirmed, then buried his face against her neck, kissing and nibbling until she squealed to stop, stop, stop. He kissed her, then retreated, kissed her again and retreated again, making her strain after him until finally giving in and laying a long, slow kiss on her, with the tip of his tongue tickling hers.

Even first thing in the morning she smelled and tasted clean and natural. Charlotte always smelled like one thing or another: perfumes, soaps, incense. Mia smelled like Mia. Her skin was hot under his lips.

She rolled him over and climbed on top, using the headboard for leverage to keep him down. He rolled her tiny breasts against his palms, the memory of doing the same thing last night bobbing to the surface. Harder, she'd told him then, so he did it harder now. He was afraid her pale skin would bruise, but she turned out to be more resilient than he'd have guessed. (Or maybe I'm just not that strong he thought, suddenly sheepish.)

Her dark nipples stood out. She raked her nails down his chest but was juuust careful enough not to leave any telltale marks. Her ass ground in a circle on his lap while his erection throbbed. Life would be easier if we just let downstairs make all the decisions, he thought: no guilt, no regret, no hesitation.

"Slowly, slowly, slowly," she told him, although she was the one deciding how fast they went, lowering herself down on him a little bit a time. She was amazingly wet. The cool, cloying sensation made the tip of him tingle as they slid together. When she was all the way down she squeezed him between her legs, trying to keep him perfectly still while she moved, first around and around, then up and down, bouncing once or twice to get a feel for it.

She was tighter and smoother than he was used to. She rode him with her eyes closed and mouth parted in an O, talking in such a low voice that it sounded like a hum without words. Andrew's fingers bunched the sheets into knots. Behind her eyelids, Mia's eyes rolled back. The air trapped between them caught fire.

"From behind," Mia said, turning and gripping the foot of the bed. Andrew rose (somewhat clumsily) to his knees, grabbing her ass and pushing against it, letting the length of him slide between her cheeks before going lower and pushing in again. She buried her face in the mattress.

Andrew's eyes and fingertips took in her curves and lines, trying to memorize every inch.

This is it, he thought. There won't ever be another time. I have to remember everything now. Even with that in mind he still couldn't quite put everything he had into it. Guilt, and an irrational sense of being exposed, made him hold back. She responded by grinding into him harder. "More," she said.

He reached under, groping her breasts again. Perspiration glistened on her back, like diamonds against her skin. The rush of blood in his ears shut out every other sound (including, mercifully, his own thoughts). Mia was gushing wetter around him and the sensation triggered a surge at the base of his cock that swiftly ran up the length and then spilled over, onto and into her.

The strangled elation of the moment grabbed hold of him and didn't let go until both of them fell over, burying themselves in the bedding so that it muffled their cries. He reminded himself to breathe, as normal life and normal thinking swam back into focus. We really should not have done that, he thought. And then: But I'd do it again.

Their fingers laced together. The pulse in her wrist was still going. He felt his heart break, but he stamped it down. None of that, he told himself. This is hard enough as it is.

***

Eros was unhappy.

This wasn't like him. Disappointments, on the rare occasions they came, were always fleeting things, and then he moved on to the next prospect. It wasn't in his nature to dwell on anything; and yet, this latest bit of business still stung.

That's why, by Thursday night, he was still fluttering around and eavesdropping on Andrew. He and Charlotte—the woman who, thanks to Nu Wa, would soon be Andrew's wife—were having a romantic dinner for two at her place with sushi from Tekka, while she alternated between news about her business trip and assurances that she was happy to be back with him.

"I think we have a future in that market, I really do," she said, aiming her chopsticks at a piece of pickled ginger that was proving particularly elusive.

"Uh huh," said Andrew.

"Tim still isn't convinced, but you know how he is: scared of his own shadow half the time."

"Uh huh."

"But he'll come around. Growth attracts growth, am I right?"

"Well, that's what you always say."

Charlotte smiled. Eros looked into her dreams: She met Andrew at the wedding of a mutual friend Andrew barely knew, ending seated together because he'd arrived without a date and her own had cancelled (appendicitis). At the reception, after too many drinks, she'd taken him to the gazebo for a little hot and heavy time, and from then on they were an item.

She liked his photography aspirations, even though she knew he wasn't very good. A boyfriend who was a creative made her feel more well-rounded. And he was low maintenance: there when she needed but easy to do without when she needed time to herself and her career.

So she was happy. Andrew was happy. It wasn't a particularly profound or powerful happiness, but it was there. Everyone was happy except for Eros. And being unhappy made him miserable.

"What about you?" Charlotte said, wrapping up her story. "What did you do while I was gone?"

Andrew didn't even flinch. "The usual stuff: class, work, shot a little. Mostly just hung out." Inside, tiny barbs of guilt stabbed him over and over, but he ignored them.

"Poor thing: You must have been lonely," Charlotte said. She fed him sashimi with her fingers. She was a soft, curvy woman, someone who enjoyed soft and pampering things. Andrew could be one of those things: he liked to pamper her too.

Sitting on the couch with his bow, Eros watched them together. Life together would be easy enough for both of them, he knew. They'd never be any happier than they were now, but they'd only ever grow a little less happy. In a few years, Andrew's one and only infidelity would become a faded memory of a person he no longer recognized as himself, and that would be that. Eros would remember what Andrew had felt during his one youthful, errant night, but Andrew himself never would.

The two finished the sushi and started to get cozy. Eros left.

On the other side of the city, Mia was alone at a table in the library, face lit by the white-gray light of a computer. The screen was full of numbers and letters—chemistry, Eros thought, although he wasn't sure. He studied chemistry of a different sort.

Now and then she'd click over to another window, where she exchanged messages with her husband, Ian, in short, tentative phrases that were laden with vulnerability. They'd met as teenagers but became lovers later, mostly to satisfy their sense of curiosity about each other.

The marriage had been an impulse and started falling apart after the first year, when she learned he was having affairs and took it as permission to have some of her own. They soon blamed each other for their mutual unhappiness and parted.

It was quite clear to Eros that Ian hadn't changed—in fact, half the reason he was trying to renew things with Mia was for an excuse to leave the woman in Boston he was sleeping with now. In a week or two he'd propose coming back to California, and Mia would accept and they'd make a big show of reconciliation for a few months, and then go right back to two-timing each other.

But they wouldn't ever bother separating again, instead just reconciling over and over for years, and then for decades.