All I knew about the story of Eros and Psyche was the short summary that Ash had given me when I had asked him about it before. I had never looked up the entire myth, I think I was afraid that I would get my hopes up that he meant something more than he did by calling me that. And since that day he had only called me butterfly, so I really hadn’t allowed myself to think about it again. But now that I saw this beautiful butterfly that held the names of Psyche and Eros, I had to know the full story.
Ash exited the bathroom showered and changed. I loved the smell of his soap that lingered on his skin long after using it. It made me think of waterfalls and cold springs. I didn’t even give him a chance to say anything before I bombarded him.
“I want to know the whole story of Eros and Psyche. Will you tell it to me?” I asked demandingly. He looked at me and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Did you see what I was working on?” he asked, already knowing the answer. I lowered my eyes and nodded. I hoped he wasn’t mad that I had been snooping around. I looked back up at him and his gaze was focused in on my mouth. I wanted him to kiss me so bad, but instead he kept talking.
“I thought you were going to look it up?” A look that I thought (hoped) could’ve been disappointment passed over his face.
I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at the floor. “I just haven’t had a chance with school and all.” I knew that sounded like the lamest excuse, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Come sit down and get comfortable and I’ll be happy to tell you the world’s first fairy tale.” He smiled warmly at me and patted the bed next to him as he crawled in and adjusted the pillows. “I’ll even begin with ‘Once upon a time’ and end with ‘and they lived happily ever after’ if you want,” he teased. I stuck my tongue out at him.
Over the next hour, Ash went into great detail telling the beautiful, enduring story of love that would not be denied between Aphrodite’s son Eros, the God of Love, and Psyche, the exquisite maiden princess. He described how their path to one another took many unnecessary turns due to interference from jealous outsiders, miscommunication, stubbornness, and lack of trust; however, in the end, as in all good fairy tales, true love found a way to persevere. Eros and Psyche were able to forgive each other for their shortcomings and were determined to overcome any obstacles necessary to be together. Zeus was so impressed with their undying love and selfless dedication to one another, that he allowed Psyche to drink ambrosia, the drink of the Gods, and granted her immorality so that she and Eros could be together forever.
As Ash finished the story, I realized how many of the current day romance books and movies were so similar to this myth that was thousands of years old. I guessed the trials and tribulations of finding true love, as well as the sheer joy and bliss of living in it once you have it, were something that humans had experienced from the beginning of time.
I wasn’t sure how long I had been lost in my own thoughts, but I finally noticed Ash just staring at me with a boyish grin on his face. “What are you thinking about, butterfly?”
When I told him what I was pondering, he nodded and agreed. “Love really is a tricky thing, isn’t it? It has definitely been the inspiration for more art, more writings, more music… shit, even more deaths, than anything else in history.”
“It’s a necessary evil, isn’t it? Or I guess you could say a tragic inevitability,” I mused. “We all love someone, whether it be erotic love or family love or even self-love. So we are all dependent on the happiness and nirvana that is felt when that love is strong and healthy, but vulnerable to the heart-wrenching pain of that love when it’s either taken away or not returned.” Unfortunately, I was beginning to learn firsthand the misery of unrequited love.
He pondered my words for a moment. I thought he was going to say something in response, but instead he changed the subject. “The intriguing thing about the myth of Eros and Psyche is that it’s not only a story about their love for each other, which of course is the prominent theme, but it also emphasizes Psyche’s personal growth and self-discovery. Her ability to battle through the misfortunes and sufferings bestowed upon her, revealed to her the strong, courageous, soulful woman that she truly was. It was because of this that the Greeks use the term Psyche to refer to both the human soul and butterflies. Psyche represents the metamorphosis of a dying human soul to that of immortality when true love fills that soul, much like when the caterpillar changes into the beautiful butterfly.”
When he stopped, he looked so deep into my eyes that I was sure he could see my soul. I didn’t know what to say; all I could think was that I hoped he never stopped calling me butterfly. I wanted to kiss him and I was pretty sure that he wanted to kiss me, but neither of us were brave enough to make the first move, neither of us strong enough individually to put our pride and fears aside. So we continued to deny ourselves a chance at our fairy tale and instead, we settled, miserably, for friendship.
“I need a drink, do you want something?” I was somewhat relieved that he found his voice as he got off the bed and headed for his door. I was the worst kind of weak ~ I wasn’t strong enough to put myself out there for him, for a chance at us, but I also wasn’t strong enough to detach myself from him. I was completely at his mercy to wherever he wanted our relationship to go. He would have to make the decisions; I just didn’t trust myself to.
“Yeah, I’ll take a glass of milk,” I answered with a forced smile.
“Milk, of course,” he chuckled. “Only you, butterfly.”
While he was in the kitchen, I snapped a picture of the drawing with my phone. I wasn’t sure what it was about the sketch, but it inexplicably drew me to it, an effect similar to the one that its creator had on me. Whenever I looked at the picture, I would always be reminded of not only the mystical fairy tale that I continued to hope for myself, but the private moments that Ash and I shared in his room.
We spent the rest of the night hanging out as we typically did on Saturday nights. We had a jam session and watched a little tv. We never discussed Eros and Psyche again, nor did he ever ask me about why I wasn’t seeing Dylan anymore or what was going on with me and Mason. I wished he wanted to talk about it, I hoped the thought of me intimate with someone else made his stomach churn like mine did when I thought about him with his multitude of girls that passed through his sheets. I had hoped that his jealous responses to seeing me with Mason would make him see that he should pursue something with me, but suddenly I wondered if it was jealousy at all that fueled his actions, maybe he really was just protecting me from someone he thought would hurt me… like a friend would do.
Chapter 25
Thanksgiving dinner the following Thursday with my family had been uncomfortable at best. Even though I was speaking more and more with my parents, the tension between us that had never existed before at family functions made things awkward. My parents tried their best to put on the fake “we’re a big happy family” show, but it just made it worse in my opinion. As soon as I could escape to Evie’s, I did, and early Friday morning we returned to Houston. She was having Max withdrawals after only two days and I was eager to see both Mason and Ash.
The next several weeks passed in the blink of an eye. The air outside grew colder and the foliage on the trees began to disappear. Evie and I began to prepare for our first set of finals as mid-December approached quickly. We studied and we read and we studied and we made charts and we studied… I thought both of us were susceptible to a brain explosion due to the sheer amount of knowledge that we attempted to shovel inside.
She saw Max as much as possible around the school work, even if it meant they just got to sleep in the same bed a couple of nights a week. They were so adorable together and I loved seeing Evie happy all of the time. I continued to see Mason, and by “see” I meant do every sexual act that I had ever wanted to do with a guy except sex itself, several times a week. He would pick me up and take me to dinner and we would go to the bar for a while either for him to do a set with Jobu’s Rum or occasionally one of us would perform at open mic night. We had a hard time keeping our hands off of one another even when we were together whether in public or in private. Numerous times in the middle of one of our steamy makeout sessions, I would think to myself “if he tries, I’m not going to stop him,” but he never pushed the issue. I had told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him from the beginning, and for whatever reason, he respected me enough to accept that and whatever it was that we had.
Mason knew how I felt about Ash, I had been forthcoming with him from the beginning. He always told me that Ash was the biggest fucking tool ever for not pursuing a relationship with me, but that he owed him a thank you because it allowed us time to spend together. I liked Mason, more than I wanted to admit. His was brutally honest and really didn’t care what anyone else thought about him. I envied his carefree attitude and self-confidence. I loved being around him and I loved being wrapped around him even more. It had become impossible for me to remain emotionally unattached from him, as much as I tried. It seemed that I was determined to set myself up for heartbreak no matter what.