My Best Friend Is a Goddess Page 20

  He swings himself down next to me. A droplet of water falls from his chest onto my knee, and becomes a trail that trickles down my thigh.

  ‘You’ve got a super-good spot here.’ He leans against the wall, looking at the sun slipping through tangerine clouds in the distance. ‘Cheers, Em.’

  His eyes meet mine and we clink glasses.

  There’s the tiniest breeze now. The skirt of my caftan is fluttering away from my thighs. I’m trying to subtly hold it down, conscious that my less-than-perfect legs are on full display to Theo.

  ‘Your dress is so beautiful.’ He carefully moves the material away from our drinks, which are sitting between us. ‘The colours are amazing. It makes me think of butterflies.’

  Suddenly I’m as light as the dress. All the stress that I’m wearing the wrong thing — that I am the wrong thing in this perfect Instagrammable afternoon — lifts off me.

  ‘I love butterflies,’ I say. ‘I think it’s because they make me think of fairies.’

  I look at the clouds, which have turned from tangerine to a pink — the same shade that Theo’s lip became that day I touched my fingertip to it.

  ‘They make me think of Psyche,’ he says.

  I look at Theo, who is looking at my shoulder, and follow his gaze to where the ties of my caftan are quivering.

  ‘Like the goddess?’ I know my myths. ‘But she doesn’t have wings?’

  ‘You don’t see paintings of her with wings, but being the butterfly goddess, I think she’d have them.’ Theo picks up the ends of the ties and stares at the colours.

  I know of Psyche from stories about Venus — she was so beautiful that Venus punished her — but I can’t remember anything to do with a butterfly.

  ‘I know her name means soul, but where does the butterfly thing come in?’ I ask.

  ‘Psyche also meant “butterfly” to the Ancient Greeks.’ He lets go of the ties and they seem to fly out of his hands like something he’s enchanted. ‘Let me show you …’ He brings up an image on his phone. ‘I stood in front of this painting for twenty minutes in the Louvre — it’s called Cupid and Psyche by François Gérard. I don’t know what it was about the painting, but I got the weirdest feeling when I looked at it.’

  Psyche is sitting with her hands under her breasts and the lightest of gauzes covering her lap. Beside her is a curly-haired boy with wings that stretch behind him.

  ‘The other name for the painting is Psyche Receiving Cupid’s First Kiss.’ Theo taps the screen. ‘Maybe what I liked about it is that they look so innocent. It’s first love, you know, before anything damages your idealism?’

  I think of how nothing ever seems to match the castles in my head.

  ‘There’s the butterfly.’ He moves closer to show me the tiny butterfly above Psyche’s head, and as he does I realise I can smell him. There’s chlorine from the pool, but also a woody smell, like when I walk through the cove of trees down the bottom of our property. ‘I got obsessed with the painting so I wound up googling to find out more about it. So, given you love your myths, I’m sure you know Psyche was a beautiful princess, and Venus was jealous of her, like she was always jealous of any gorgeous-looking mortal.’

  ‘I remember Venus wanted revenge.’

  ‘She asked Cupid, her son, the god of love, to use one of his arrows to make Psyche fall in love with a monster. But instead Cupid scratched himself and fell deeply in love with Psyche. He decided to tell Psyche’s father that he’d displeased the gods, and as penance he has to give his daughter in marriage to a monster. So, as instructed, Psyche’s father leaves her on the edge of a cliff to be claimed by the monster. Instead, she’s lifted up by a gentle wind that carries her up into the mountains, to a castle with golden columns and floors with mosaics of every colour.’

  Theo’s telling the myth like a storyteller would, and suddenly the party melts away and my afternoon becomes better than anything I could have dreamed up.

  ‘That night when Psyche gets into bed and turns off the lamp, Cupid appears. At first Psyche is terrified by this mysterious stranger in the dark, but Cupid’s voice is so gentle as he professes his love for her that she allows him to take her into his arms.’

  I can’t look at him at this point. From his tone, I know that he’s talking about something way more intimate than an embrace, and I’m grateful the light is fading now as I know my face is flushed.

  He slips his shirt on over his head, and keeps talking. ‘Cupid visits every night, but always leaves before sunrise. Despite never seeing what he looks like, Psyche falls as in love with him as he is with her. Eventually her curiosity gets too much for her, and one night when Cupid falls asleep, she quickly lights the oil lamp. She’s so shocked that she’s been lying with a god, her hand trembles and a tiny drop of oil lands on Cupid’s chest. He wakes instantly and flies away before Psyche can stop him. He doesn’t visit the next night, or all the following week. Psyche is distraught, and begs Venus to help her get Cupid back.’

  ‘I think I remember this part,’ I say. ‘Venus makes her do all these crazy things to prove her love for Cupid, like sorting an entire pile of mixed grains in one night, which Psyche can only do because a group of ants take pity on her.’

  ‘Magical ants, sent down by Cupid,’ Theo adds. ‘You see, Venus locked him up when she discovered that he’d married Psyche instead of giving her to a monster like he’d promised he would. The only thing Cupid can do is send magical assistance when the tasks Venus sets for Psyche seem impossible. After a while, Venus gets fed up that Psyche keeps proving her wrong so she sets a task she knows will cause Psyche’s death — she orders her to go into the Underworld to bring back some of the goddess Persephone’s beauty. However, Persephone takes pity on Psyche and gives her a flask, instructing her never to open it.’

  ‘And of course she does,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Just like poor Pandora.’

  ‘Spot on. As Psyche’s returning from the Underworld, she’s worried that when Cupid sees her faded beauty he won’t love her any more. So she decides to open the flask and take the tiniest bit. Opening it, she discovers that it’s not beauty inside but death, and she collapses. Cupid, finally released from Venus’s palace, swoops in and carries her to Zeus and begs him to save his beloved Psyche. Zeus is so moved by Psyche’s dedication to love that he grants her immortality so she and Cupid can be together forever. They have a daughter called Voluptas, meaning “pleasure” or “delight”.’

  I’m sure my heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s now, because sitting next to Theo at sunset and hearing him say the word ‘pleasure’ in his deep voice would be too much for anyone.

  ‘The Greeks loved an allegory.’ I force myself to sound casual. ‘So from the union of soul and love comes pleasure.’

  ‘Cheesy, I know, but it makes sense to me.’ Theo turns his head to look at me. ‘If you fall in love, like real love, not just lusting after someone’s eyes or body — I’m talking about way more than that — if you reach that point where all you want to do is talk to them and discover who they are — then it’s soul stuff.’

  ‘Have you been in love?’ The words are out before I can censor them.

  Theo picks up his glass and drinks the last bit of liquid from it, before laughing. ‘I just downed this like it was alcohol! Bad sign. In love …’ He sighs. ‘Yeah. There was a girl at my old school — Juliet — she was my girlfriend for nine months when we were fifteen. I know people think that young love isn’t real, but this was — or at least I thought it was.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Nine months. He’s experienced, and I’m not, and it makes me feel weird. It’s not like it matters — I’m his friend, not his wannabe girlfriend — but still I feel awkward, like my naivety is written all over my face.

  Theo puts down the glass and looks at me again. ‘Everything in my life fell apart at the same time. My family had always been this perfect unit — my parents were a slow-dance-in-the-lounge-room type of couple — and then
around this time last year, my dad left us. It was like a freaking nuclear bomb dropped out of the sky with no warning.’

  Theo goes quiet. I realise that I’m holding my breath. I look at his mouth, which is twisted into an expression I can’t read, and I get a feeling in my chest like when I see people make fun of Adriana. Her pain is my pain. I feel the same for Theo.

  ‘That was when I started to lean on Juliet — because what I was feeling seemed way too full on to share with anyone else.’ He shakes his head. ‘Maybe I should have talked about it with the counsellor instead. Anyway, she told me it was getting too serious for her. At the time, I felt like everyone was walking out on me. I stuck it out at school for nine months, but I needed a change, which is how I wound up at Jefferson.’

  I shake my head. ‘So where is your dad now?’

  He lets out a short laugh. ‘Ten minutes’ drive from us. I don’t see him, even though he wants me to. He’s a coward.’ He looks away from me and over at the pool.

  I’ve never seen Theo in any mood but upbeat. From what he’d told me about his life before now, I guess I’d assumed it was flawless. I think of Ade and how easy it is to assume that perfect-looking people have perfect lives.

  ‘Sorry.’ Theo looks embarrassed. ‘He didn’t leave because he stopped loving my mum. My brother — his name is Sam, by the way,’ he gives me a small smile, ‘he has Down Syndrome. Dad seemed fine at first, but when Sam was two, he came home from work one day and told Mum he couldn’t handle it any more. That he’d continue to support us financially but everything else was too hard for him. Too hard for him? Well, it’s just as hard for Mum, and he wants to make it harder by making her a single parent?’ He looks away again. ‘By the next day he’d packed up his car and rented an apartment. Two days later he called me and asked me to put his stuff from the garage out on the driveway so he could pick it up. That’s what got me — he wouldn’t even come back into the house. So I wrecked his best golf clubs and left them in a pile by the side of the road.’ He laughs ironically. ‘Childish, I know.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ I say softly. ‘I don’t even know my dad because he left before I was born, but sometimes I hate him so much for hurting my mum that it scares me. To go through what you did — to have your dad for fifteen years, to have a family and then it’s gone — that’s one thousand times worse. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about your dad.’ Theo looks as sad for me as I feel for him. ‘So he’s not part of your life at all?’

  ‘I know nothing about him.’ I hug my knees to me. It’s starting to get cold. ‘All I know is, he and my mum were in love, she got pregnant, and he didn’t want a baby, so they broke up. I know his name and that I have his eyes, and that’s about it. Part of me wants to know what he was like, but the other part of me doesn’t. Maybe I don’t want to be anything like him.’

  We both fall silent.

  Theo groans. ‘How did we go from butterflies and Greek myths to deadbeat dads?’

  ‘That’s my fault. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry.’ He puts his hand on mine and squeezes it. ‘You’re the first person who’s ever got how I feel about my dad.’

  ‘Em?’ I hear Adriana calling me.

  Through the dusk, I see that she’s out of the pool and looking round for me. I glance down at Theo’s hand over mine and I feel guilty, even though I know it’s just one friend consoling another.

  ‘It’s getting dark, we’d better go inside,’ I say and jump up.

  ‘Time slips away every time we get talking, huh?’ Theo smiles at me in the half-light as we walk across the deck.

  I look over at him and take a misstep in the dark, forgetting all about the half-stair down from the deck. I fly forward, throwing out my left arm to stop my face hitting the wooden slats around the pool. My chest hits the ground and my arm slams into the boards with a massive crack. Lights switch on all around me.

  ‘Em!’ Theo reaches me first. ‘Adriana! Grab your dad, quickly!’

  ‘Her ass is showing!’ someone yells.

  I’m in so much pain I almost don’t hear, but suddenly I feel the cold air against my butt and I know my caftan’s flown up in the fall and I’m lying there on the deck in the nude G-string. Suddenly I wish I’d hit my head instead of my arm because I want to die.

  ‘I will kill anyone who takes a photo,’ I hear Theo say. Somewhere within the pain I register him pulling the caftan down so I’m covered up. ‘Sorry, Em, I’m just going to fix this.’

  He’s seen my bum. My flat, cellulitey bum. Everyone at the party’s seen it in full view under the floodlights.

  I pull myself up, gritting my teeth, and look at my left hand, which is stinging like crazy. Theo’s wrapped his shirt tightly around my palm, but blood is seeping through the material. The glass I was holding is in pieces all around me.

  ‘Emily!’ I hear Mum’s gasp.

  Daniel is suddenly beside me. ‘I’d better get you to the clinic. It needs stitches.’

  Before I know it, they’ve bundled me into the car and we’re pulling out of the driveway. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes, trying to block out the blood, the bare-bum moment, and the fifty or so pairs of eyes staring at me from around the pool.

  Secret Thoughts of Adriana Andersson

  If you’d asked me when I was fourteen what came to mind when I thought of Dylan, I would have told you that his smile was like anaesthetic and his voice was a thread that, little by little, was stitching the gash in my chest closed.

  It started with watching the movies together. I was never that into animated films before that assignment. Sure I’d watched Disney fairy tales like Cinderella and Aladdin, but by age fourteen cartoons seemed a bit babyish. But during that term, the first one without Mum, cartoon rats who could cook Michelin-starred food, and green monsters who couldn’t scare kids properly, paired with Dylan’s bowls of seriously buttery popcorn, were exactly what I needed.

  I was worried that hanging out at his house would be weird, that we’d sit there in silence, me terrified that he’d discover I was boring and annoying, just like everyone at school thought. But with him, I didn’t feel boring. He said stupid things all the time and laughed at himself for it, and for the first time in my life I discovered that maybe it’s okay if sentences don’t come out the right way sometimes. Words left my mouth without being tested in my mind ten thousand times over, and as I watched Dylan nod and tilt his head ever so slightly, I realised that he was interested in what I had to say.

  After the assignment was over, I thought that was it for the movie nights, but I was wrong, because Dylan always had another movie that he wanted to show me, some director or genre that he was newly crazy about. Mondays became our movie nights.

  So, every Monday I pretended to Dad that I was going to the support group held in the community centre near Dylan’s for kids who’d lost a parent, and whenever he asked me if they were helping, I’d say ‘It’s the only thing that helps’, and I almost didn’t feel bad for lying because I wasn’t going to unravel the stiches that were healing me.

  I knew we were real friends when we rewatched movies we’d seen only months before. It was the equivalent of reading old celebrity magazines with Em — you wouldn’t do it unless the other person was there.

  ‘I wish they did have an invention to translate what dogs are thinking,’ I said, laughing at the dog from Up shouting about squirrels.

  ‘I know what my dog’s thinking.’ Dylan nodded towards Oscar, his Samoyed, who looks like a huge white teddy bear with a permanent grin. ‘He’ll bowl over to you any second for that handful of popcorn you’ve left hanging — rookie move, Adriana. No, Oscar!’

  Oscar’s paws landed on my chest, knocking me into Dylan.

  Dylan grabbed him. ‘Paws off! You’ve got to move slow with the ladies!’

  As I sat back up, I accidentally poked Dylan in the side, near his armpit. He nearly jumped off the couch.

  ‘Hey! No
tickling!’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to tickle you.’

  ‘That was a direct attack!’ He shielded his underarms.

  Oscar jumped up again, his right paw grazing the spot where I’d poked Dylan.

  ‘Now both of you are ganging up on me?’ Dylan gave Oscar a dirty look.

  Looking at him curled up in a ball, his hands tucked into his armpits, made me laugh, and I did something non Adriana-ish — I poked him again.

  ‘This is war!’ Dylan said, and like lightning he tickled me back.

  I’m stupidly ticklish. I batted his arms away from me, laughing like crazy and begging for mercy.

  His smile was devilish. ‘This is a poor excuse for a fight.’ Then he yelped as I dived for his ribs. ‘I’m not going to give in.’ Dylan spluttered with laughter. ‘Oscar, help me out!’

  Oscar was yelping too, and jumping around, his paws tickling me almost as much as Dylan was. He licked me on the cheek and I started because it was so unexpected. My hands flew away from Dylan’s chest and he took his chance. Before I knew it, one of his hands was right under my arm and I was trying to roll myself off the couch to get away. Instead I fell onto my back, with Dylan still tickling me.

  Suddenly he was leaning over me and our faces were a hand span away from each other. He was holding my hands captive in his.

  ‘Surrender?’ he asked.

  ‘Never.’

  He laughed. ‘Are we going to hang like this all night?’

  Even though his body weight was on top of me, I felt oddly light, like I was breathing in laughter instead of air.

  I shrugged, trying not to giggle. ‘You’ll get bored.’

  ‘I’ll just hang out here and watch you then. If I look this way,’ he turned his head almost upside down, ‘you’ve got a double chin.’

  I let out a loud laugh. Hearing it, I didn’t feel like Adriana at all. I was cheeky and bold.

  Dylan turned his head the other way. ‘Or I’ll watch your eyes. I think there’s a whole screenplay going on there.’