“I’m sorry, Will. I can’t.”
Violin, I realized, simply frictions a high – pitched shrill.
I watched her hand push the little red box back to me. Yes, I proposed to her. Yes, I wanted to spend my whole life with her. Yes, she declined – Rejected. She rejected my proposal. Yes, the accompanying musicians I hired are definitely not helping my mood despite I, paying exactly to make it romantic.
“Did I choose a mismatched ensemble, again?” I looked at my shirt, striking pinstripes of cream overlaying its midnight blue hue. This is cotton blend and it cost me half of the last week’s paycheck.
“No. That’s a good shirt.” She stood up, her figure in a flowy red dress – now, looming over me. She adjusted her hair clumped in a messy bun. I can feel my ears burning.
“See you somewhere, Will.” My eyes transfixed on what is now her back and is a silhouette walking farther.
See you somewhere, Will. The words I keep repeating on my head. Enunciating every syllable. Emphasizing each movement of the mouth who’d said those. The woman of my three – year commitment passing through the door and vanishing into the thick crowd and the thick, gray city. The room went into a slow – motioned riot. Everything suddenly seemed to be directionless. . The musicians hauling their instruments in a mixture of scowl and pity. The chaotic cacophony of clinking utensils, carts caroling their wheels on the marbled floor. Incomprehensible, no, rather, inaudible chatter. The warm, welcoming air turning into a trepid, sickly humidity that I can’t wait to get out of.
I stared at the untouched meal on my table, wondering what this plate of food had done that I won’t even dare touching it. This plate of food racking its brain, flipping through the pages, scouring its cracks clean. Where did it go wrong?
“Where did I go wrong?”
This job is giving me the stress and the wrinkles. Good thing I’m an immortal.
I become too preoccupied these past days. Matchmaking, I have to infer is a very tough line of work. Statistics and profiling is the thin line between a pocket-book romance and loathing every person you’ll ever meet. It’s been very busy and I can say I’ve never did have much time for myself even though I want to. And I am a goddess. Stress spares no one.
“Aphrodite, aren’t you going? Hermes will arrive soon.”
Artemis is in my marble table, tucking a small dagger on her robe. Fixing the sash on her lustrous, white dress. The sight is almost immaculate except for that speck of dirt on her face. That faint, mud – colored spot of embarrassment. It threw everything off the Mount Olympus. Despite my overwhelming pile of unfinished workload, I can’t help but to be agitated. Artemis could really use a cleansing foam – or a detergent soap.
“I’m sorry, there’s something I need to fix before going.” I clenched my jaw in refusal to say anything further. Artemis has a dagger.
I continued reading the parchment on my hand. The letters and words showing one by one as my cupids send their reports. My eyes trailing the paper in an infuriating stare.
“No more humans to swindle?”
I felt my head uncontrollably twitched for a second.
“No.” I closed my eyes and sighed in frustration. The parchment almost crumpling in my grip.
“Someone keeps on changing his fate; the cupids are having a hard time giving him a decent romantic relationship. It’s almost, as if, he’s avoiding the path I forged for him.”
“Complicated. Complications, Aphrodite. That’s why I don’t want to marry.” Artemis chided as she combs through her tangled hair.
“That is not the reason why. We both know what. We could have-“
“-No! The date you insisted to me thousand years ago was a disaster! No!” She crossed both her arms against her chest as if protecting herself. I chuckled upon the memory. It was really bad.
“Just tell me if you’re ready. I have a lot of reserve dating matches for you, Artemis.” I winked at her.
She muttered something concerning Koalemos as she waved her hand and walked out my pavilion.
Goddess of love? Yes, that’s me, Aphrodite. A goddess with a ton of paperwork.