Playing Cupid

by SC Alban

  “Calm down, Megan, deep breath. You’re all right. Everything will be okay,” I said in an attempt to self-soothe.

  Making my way to the edge of the road, I froze. Where was the kid? My eyes scanned the area. There wasn’t any evidence I’d hit a person—no blood or articles of loose clothing, and I couldn’t see a body anywhere…thank God. A thick ball caught in my throat. What would I have even done if a body was there? A chill raced down my spine, and I chose to ignore the thought.

  But I had hit something. There was no way I hadn’t. I moved on autopilot. Turning toward the forest, my gazed poked through the trees.

  “Hello? Is anyone out there?” I called out.

  Silence.

  I stepped into the brush. If I had hit the kid, it was possible he was thrown deeper into the trees. My stomach heaved and my hands instinctively flew to my mouth, a futile attempt to stop anything which might come up. Breathe. Just breathe. When the feeling subsided, I lowered my shaking hands.

  “Hello?” I yelled again, my voice wavering from shock.

  Please, God, please. Please don’t let this be real.

  “This can’t be happening. This is not happening,” I repeated to myself as I frantically searched the area. A million thoughts ran through my head. My heart pounded in my chest. I was going to be sick.

  Maybe I didn’t hit the kid after all. Maybe it wasn’t even a kid. Maybe my eyes thought they saw one thing, but really, it was something else.

  I prayed it’d been a dog…or a deer. A deer could’ve definitely caused that much damage to a vehicle. But with two arms and two legs? Wearing red?

  As I tried to convince myself I was looking for an animal, a small cough rose not far from me. My throat tightened and my heart dropped into my stomach. I swallowed hard and walked in the direction of the sound. My feet turned to lead weights as I inched closer, not knowing what would be there waiting for me.

  Though the cough was muffled by a large pile of branches, there was no mistaking what it had come from. A human. Crap. I approached a heaping mound of fallen spruce branches with caution and carefully lifted the topmost branch, bracing myself for the most gruesome of possibilities. Pulling the needles away, I saw the body and released a huge breath. Thank God, there was no blood. Still, that didn’t mean anything. There was always internal bleeding, and what was that I saw on TV last week? A comminuted closed fracture? I shook my head. I had to stop watching hospital dramas. My stomach relaxed, but I as I leaned in to get a closer look, I furrowed my brows. This wasn’t a child. Far from it. What the—

  Nestled in the pine was what appeared to be a small in stature, full-grown man. But also, not quite a man. He was too…glowy. Was that even a word? I squinted and bit my lip. Though it was difficult to tell from his lying down position, he had to be no taller than five feet. His smooth skin was quite pink and full with a soft rosy hue that shined at the apples of his cheeks. His curly blond hair hung in a loose mess over his ears, but somehow appeared perfectly coifed. I stared at his eyelids, taking note of his uber long lashes that seemed to sparkle in the light. Was that glitter?

  He was handsome in an innocent, baby-faced, wrinkle-free kind of way, and he appeared completely content just lying there in the brush in the cold afternoon. If I’d not known I’d just hit him, I’d presume he was taking a nap. Omigod. Was he dead? Was that cough I’d heard the last cough he’d ever have? My eyes dropped down to his chest, to catch some movement of rise and fall—any indication he was alive. I held my breath until the fabric of his jacket moved a bit. Yep. Still alive. Thank you, Universe.

  Knowing he wasn’t dead, for now, I took a moment to further examine him. He wore a pair of dark maroon slacks tailored to his size, which tapered down the leg to reveal a pair of fashionable, white patent leather ankle boots. I leaned in slowly for a closer look. A matching deep maroon pea coat that appeared to be made of velvet fit snugly around his torso, and though it was buttoned up, edges of light pink fabric stuck out from the cuffs, indicating a long-sleeved shirt. A fancy one.

  My eyes widened as I moved in closer still.

  “Please be okay,” I whispered into the cold. “Please open your eyes.”

  Though I knew it was my fault this small, shiny man was lying unconscious in front of me, and though I felt horrible for having hit him, I couldn’t figure out why he was there to begin with. Who was he? In a town as small as Mountain Valley, I would’ve noticed someone like him. Everyone would’ve noticed him.

  As if my thoughts poked him awake, he shifted from side to side, his eyelids fluttering. I stepped back, giving him just enough space to show I wasn’t a threat, but not so much that he wouldn’t notice me the moment he awoke. I stood frozen for an agonizing few minutes until his eyes fluttered a bit more, and he started to come around. Finally. I let out another sigh of relief.

  “Wha…what happened?”

  “Um, sir…my name is Megan…um…you had a little…accident,” I stuttered.

  His eyes shot open, crystal blue irises piercing my brain.

  “An accident! Is that what you’re calling it?” He huffed. “You hit me. I swear to—where’d you even get your license?” Groaning, he pushed himself up and rubbed his head. “For the love of Venus.”

  I blinked at the brusqueness of his voice. It was a stark contrast to his angelic looks.

  “Sir…uh, I…” I tripped over my words until emotion got the best of me and I gushed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It all happened so fast, and I didn’t see you. You ran out in the road from out of nowhere, and there’s hardly ever anyone up here to begin with, let alone darting across the road. I don’t know how it happened…”

  I felt horrible about hitting him, but something in me immediately got defensive against his accusations and I felt the urge to explain. Like I actually meant to hit him!

  “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you try to wiggle your way out of this one, missy. I can’t believe it. I hope Eros doesn’t catch word of this. I’ll be the laughingstock of the Archers’ Union. He’ll see to that, I’m sure.” He pushed himself up to his knees with a grunt.

  “Oh, of all the times to be hit—by a human, no less! I do not need this…I do not need this. Especially now. I’m already behind on my quota,” he said to himself as he slowly stood.

  “Sir, I’m not sure you should be getting up.” Was crazy talk a typical sign of concussion? “Is there someone I can call for you? Do you want me to call 911?”

  “911? Call 911? Goodness, no!” he retorted. “Oh my, I can only imagine the rumors that will fly back home if anyone finds out about this. Forget the Archers’ Union, I’ll be the laughingstock of Division Two!”

  The tiny man wobbled on his feet as he walked around the forest. His eyes scanned the outlying brush, as if looking for something. For what, I had no idea. After a few steps, he stopped, shaking out each leg before continuing through the woods.

  “Um, sir? Are you sure you’re okay? I can still call—”

  “Well, c’mon now, move those feet. The least you could do is help me search. After all, this is your fault.” He shot the accusation like a bullet.

  What the heck was going on?

  Maybe I’m the one with a concussion?

  I brought my hands to my head and reassessed for damage as I pressed against various parts of my skull. Everything seemed fine, but I suppose one can never be too sure in the event of a brain injury.

  “Oh, for goodness sake! Are you just going to stand there?” The man stared directly at me, his eyes filled with frustration.

  “Um, sir?” I managed to say. “I’m really not trying to be rude, but I’m not entirely sure what’s happening here. I mean, I hit you. With my car. It’s a miracle you’re alive, let alone walking around, and now you want me to—”

  “A miracle I’m alive? Please. Complete nonsense, if you ask me.” He paused and looked me up and down. “Listen, you look like a nice kid, so I’ll let you in on a little secret. It would take a whole lot more than t
hat little skateboard of a vehicle to get rid of me, that’s for sure.” He stepped closer. “But as it appears I need your help, there’s no use keeping any more secrets from you. Let me introduce myself. My name is Amadeo.”

  He approached me and thrust out his hand. After hesitating for a second, I shook it, surprised at its strength and warmth.

  “Um, hi, Amadeo. I’m Megan,” I responded, still unsure if what was happening was actually real.

  “Great, now that we’ve gotten introductions taken care of, let’s settle down to business.” He placed his hands on his lower back and slowly stretched out. “I’m gonna cut to the chase here, kid. Quite plainly, I’m a cupid. I work for the Emotion Realm, Love Level, Second Division, and I was about to hit my last three targets when by some bizarre twist of fate, you and your undersized truck came flying around the corner and took me out. Now, it appears that somehow during this hullabaloo, I’ve lost my quiver and bow. Would you please be so kind as to help me find them?”

  I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped past my lips.

  “I knew I must’ve hit my head. I mean, my truck is totaled,” I responded, reaching up to my brow. “Oh, my God! Am I dead?”

  “Oh, for the love of Venus,” he replied, his voice rising an octave. “You are not dead. You do not have a concussion.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Listen carefully, little human. I am a cupid. You know, messenger of love and desire?”

  I stopped laughing, my voice choked in my throat, and stared.

  “Now, pay attention, because this is the important part.” He paused and waited for me to respond. “Are you listening?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. In order to hit my last three marks, I need my arrows. You know, the sticks with the little pointy things at the end? And since you’re the one who made me lose them, you’re gonna be the one to help me find them. Comprende? Now, are you ready?”

  A smile fought my lips again, but I was able to hold in the laughter. It didn’t matter that this was only a figment of my imagination prompted by the trauma I’d obviously suffered in the crash; I didn’t want to irritate him any further. And somehow, I knew giving in to the giggles would really tick him off. Instead, I went for sarcasm.

  “Oh, yeah, sure…why not? Let me just help the cupid find his little arrows,” I said. Might as well make the most of this concussion-related hallucination.

  “That’s enough,” he said, stomping his foot. “I am sick and tired of not being taken seriously. It’s bad enough when you have Eros waving his golden arrows in your face night and day, his fat, red cheeks so rosy they look like candied apples ready to explode, but now I have to endure it from a…a…human. No. No, absolutely not. I’d rather eat wet chocolate! That’s it…stand back!”

  Amadeo took a step away from me and removed his coat, fully revealing the light pink button-up shirt I’d caught a glimpse of earlier. Tossing the jacket down on the cold ground, he puffed out his chest. He grumbled under his breath, and then lifted his chin.

  “I. Am. A. Cupid.”

  My mouth dropped, my chin nearly hitting the ground, as two massive wings emerged from his back. They were sparkling white, glittery even, and constructed of the finest feathers I’d ever laid eyes on. I stood there in awe—well, maybe frozen in shock—as the wings spanned a good six feet behind the small man, emanating a soft, golden glow that could only be described as angelic.

  Holy. Crap. Forget brain trauma; I really was dead. There was no other rational explanation.

  “Uh…uh…” I stuttered. “You’re a cupid?”

  “Well, someone give the lady a brownie,” Amadeo retorted. “That’s what I just told you. Now, will you help me find my stuff?”

  I barely heard what he’d said. How could I when my entire existence was in question? He waved his hands in front of my face and waited for me to collect myself.

  “Hello? Kid, you still with me?”

  “Is this real? It can’t be. I must be dead. Right?”

  He closed his eyes and reopened them in one long, exaggerated blink. He reached out and pinched me hard on the arm.

  “Ow! Hey, that hurt!”

  “Oh, it hurt?” he said. “Well, guess what? Only physical, living things can be hurt. Now, we’ve wasted enough time. Are you helping me or what?”

  “Um…uh, yeah. Sure,” I said as I rubbed my arm. He really had quite the pinch for such tiny hands. I took a step forward and picked up his coat, feeling the fabric between my fingers. The deep maroon threads shimmered in the sun. “This is real, isn’t it? I’m not dead. You really are a cupid, aren’t you?”

  “Listen, Megan, you seem like a good gal, but try to keep up here, okay? I’m on a bit of a time crunch, and I need your help finding my arrows. Stat.”

  I blinked several times and took a deep breath.

  “Okay, then. What do they look like?” I asked handing him his coat.

  Amadeo gave me a sideways glance as he slipped it back on, his wings folding back into…where did they go?

  “Did you just ask me what arrows look like?” The mischievous twinkle in his eye revealed he was about to make another snide comment. When I shot him a death glance in return, his lips fought a smile.

  “The bow is the basic cupid’s model, nothing fancy. I’m waiting until I’m promoted to First Division to splurge on the deluxe set, the BW-2000, but that’s beside the point. Anyhow, the quiver is a small leather tube, stained cerise. And it should have three arrows in it. At least, it did before you plowed over me. Oh goodness, I refuse to even entertain the mess I’ll be in if they’re not in there.”

  I listened to his chatter as I scanned the area.

  “Wait a minute.” I stopped when a thought occurred to me. “Promoted? Does that mean there’s more than one cupid? Are they all men? I thought cupid was supposed to be like a chubby baby in a diaper or something.”

  His eyes widened and he threw his hands in the air, his lips twisting as disgust stamped across his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before deliberately—and quite dramatically, if you ask me—blowing it out.

  “Yes, there is more than one cupid. No, they are not all men. Some of the best cupids I know are women. And, to address your last…comment, none of us are babies. I don’t know where that came from. And chubby! I find that highly offensive. I work out hard to maintain this physique. It’s not easy flying around the world, undetected, shooting arrows.”

  “Geez, sorry I asked,” I mumbled.

  Apparently, cupids were sensitive too.

  “So, are you like indestructible or something? ’Cause I pretty much nailed you back on the road,” I said, trying a different approach at conversation. As long as I was hallucinating…

  “I don’t want to brag, but…pretty much. Since I’m not human, I don’t age. I mean, I could grow old, if I like. But I can also grow young. Basically, I can take any form I like. As far as death is concerned, well, it’s nearly impossible to kill me. I’m immortal for all intents and purposes. However, the longer I’m away from home, the more susceptible I am to injury. You can’t take me out, but you could definitely slow me down. Not that it matters, since the minute I return home, I’m healed instantly.”

  “How long have you been away from home?”

  He grew quiet. “Too long.” I could sense the homesickness in his voice. “But it’s part of the job; you know, leaving home to make the annual quota of love matches. Should be an easy gig, right? I mean, it’s love. Everyone loves love. It should be an in and out deal, no problem. I usually make quota by July. I haven’t been away from home for this long since my rookie year on the Division Five squad.”

  “July?” I repeated. “But December’s almost over. What’s taking you so long?”

  “What’s taking me so long? Well, it’s definitely not me, it’s you humans,” he yelled back. “I don’t know what’s happening in this world, but all I encounter is hate, hate, hate. Unease, discontent, and anger. Disagreements, divorce
, arguments, heartache, sorrow, and sadness.

  “Back in the day, people were looking for love. They couldn’t wait to find the one, to create a life together, to find their happy ever after. Not anymore. It’s all about hookups and right swipes. Do you even know how hard it is to get people to leave their computer screens to meet people in person these days?”

  I grew quiet. I couldn’t deny the truth to what he’d said. Hell, half the kids at my high school were vying to be the next big social media sensation. But there was something else niggling the back of my brain. I thought about my father. I remembered how something inside him—something inside us both—broke when my mother passed away. It wasn’t as if we were unable to love. It was just easier not to love too much. Keep it at bay; hold it all at a distance, and there’d be no room for the hurt real connections lead to.

  I nibbled on the inside of my cheek and willed the thought to go away. I didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Clearing my throat, I changed the subject.

  “So…you said there are different divisions of cupids. What’s that like?”

  He gave me a side glance as if deciding what to tell me.

  “There are five divisions of cupiditry, the fifth division being the lowest. Each division has ten cupids assigned to it. The higher your division, the higher your quota and the more recognition you achieve. Right now, I’m in Division Two. I’m leading the pack…or at least, I was.” He shot me a glare. “Each year, the cupids with the most consistent marks from each division are eligible for promotion. Just the same, if you totally blow it, you are relegated to the next lowest division. It’s all about the numbers, really. Numbers and accuracy. Oh, plus, the top cupid in each division earns a bonus.”

  “A bonus? What kind of bonus?”

  “It’s a surprise. But last year, the winner of each division earned a titanium blender. Rumor this year is there’s a golden toaster in it for the top shot.”

  He rubbed his hands together. Was he seriously excited about a toaster?

  “Well then, let’s find those arrows,” I said. Why would a cupid need a toaster?