Suburban Mythology
She wasn't born in the sea as other goddesses were, but she did grow up near one. Unlike Helen of Troy, no wars were fought over her, but men do continuously battle for her affection. There are no temples in her honor, but she is worshiped by many. You won't find her name in any Greek mythology, but it's all over mine.
Everything from her intricately sculpted curves to the heat of her fiery lips to her intoxicating scent--she was perfection incarnated. She was a goddess walking among men, and with that, she had incredible power over them. Her stare was poisonous, her touch was paralyzing. She never asked for anything, but always got what she wanted. She was Aphrodite reborn, and here she was sitting next to me--a mere servant to her will--in a parking lot.
We were sitting in my car outside our favorite 7/11. Apollo drove the Sun's chariot particularly fiercely on this summer's day. Its stinging rays pierced through the car window before attempting to strike us down with its fury. We did, however, have formidable combatants: air conditioning and iced-coffee. She looked at me and I looked back at her. She took a sip of her drink before continuing to tell yet another story of her ongoing saga: the legend of her last heartbreak.
He was her greatest love and he was my best friend. He was a Titan, no doubt about it. The feats he could perform were nothing short of amazing. They were meant for each other--or so it seemed. I would know, I shot the arrow. I'm no Cupid, but I still have my parts to play, and the role of the winged boy with gold-headed arrows is just one. Some would say it's meddling, but I never ask or pry. Misery had been an unwelcome companion of mine for a very long time, and so whenever it's found in someone else, they somehow find their way to me; hence the descent of Aphrodite onto the parking lot of 7/11.
Of course, the arrow's shot landed precisely and so began the picture-perfect love. There was just one underlying problem: somehow the arrow had pricked me too.
But I digress.
She continued to sing her sad song. "Why did he do this to me?" she asked. "Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? Why didn't he love me?" With that last question I could see the tears coming. The dam that held those salty, burning tears in their vessel of sorrow was about to break. I never was a fan of human waterworks so I had to act quickly. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. You were perfect. You did everything that you could have done and more. It was him that was the problem, not you." After years of having the same scene repeated in front of me (though with different actors), I had become a professional at spewing out various strategic, yet recycled words of "wisdom". My power came from the fact that what I said could rarely be disputed. Even if it was disputed, it could rarely be disproved. Even if it could be disproved, the fragile state of my parking lot therapy patients would prevent them from deconstructing my tactics.
"You knew him better than anyone. If I'm so perfect, why'd he leave?" I had to give her some credit; she asked much better questions than my usual miserables. "I don't know. Some people just do inexplicable things. I suppose he wanted a new life. Now's a bad time for all of us--you know that. High school's over. Maybe he's just exploring the possibilities of the future". Of course, I was sugar-coating it. I knew exactly why he left her. He was girl-crazy. He had cheated on her many times before. The reason he left her was so that he could finally have a guilt-free conscience with his uncontrollable philandering. But I wasn't going to tell her that. I have never broken a heart before, and I certainly do not step on the broken pieces of the hearts of others. Besides, she was one of the smarter ones, maybe one day she'd figure it out.
I wanted to tell her. I really did, but I couldn't stand to see her in an even sadder state. The truth is that I wanted her to forget about him; he didn't deserve her at all. He never saw her perfection. Not like I did. He had a goddess, but he was just as content chasing mortals around. Her undying love was wasted on him and she couldn't even see it. The truth is that I wanted her for myself.
Still in this mindset, I let myself slip a little. "You're perfect," I repeated, as I stared into her eyes, those hypnotic wonders that I found myself getting lost in. Her face lightened a bit and suddenly I had the sudden urge to do something incredibly inane. I reached over, and with the back of my hand, I slowly began to touch her face.
What the hell was I doing? I shouldn't be doing this.
But at this point, the statements of rationality that my brain helplessly screamed at me were fading as I slowly disconnected from it and floated into her abyss. My actions were in control of themselves.
Surprisingly, she did not pull away. She did not say a word. She must be misinterpreting it as a gesture of caring and sympathy...right? She was still staring at me and I was still lost in her gaze. But what if she wanted it too? Could she?
I knew what I was going to do next to find out.
I could still hear the faint, desperate shouts coming from my conscience to cease and desist, but I was already too far gone. I could feel the proverbial wound caused by the prick of my own arrow pulsating as never before. I neared her face, and a single blasphemous act, I kissed her. My lips had betrayed me. They betrayed my friendship with her. They even betrayed my best friend.
But what an experience it was--to kiss a goddess. It was unlike anything I had ever felt. Her lips were laced with traces of euphoria. I could taste the coffee in her breath as we exchanged each other's heartaches and pains and simultaneously eradicated them, if only for this one moment. For this single element of time, I had no cares. I didn't care about the consequences, only the moment. I was happy. She hadn't just kissed my lips; she had touched my soul with the passion that had dripped out of hers.
Then reality hit. She stopped, backed away and looked at me for the longest fraction of a second I had ever been trapped in. She then proceeded to get out of the car. I got out too and looked at her. Her back was turned to me. I mustered out a meek "I'm sorry". She then turned around and looked at me straight in the face. She was crying. "What the hell was that!?" she shouted. The tone of her voice hit me hard. She was angry, yet so sad. I could tell she felt used. She didn't just question my actions, she was pleading for an answer. Somehow I knew that it wasn't just my accidental kiss that had caused this. No, that was just the tip of her heart's iceberg--she was feeling everything at once. Everything that she had suppressed since he left her, every emotion that she was afraid to show, she was letting it out on me. Her crying continued.
"I…I don't know," I stammered. "I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry". She was now almost at the point of hysteria. "Oh God, Jake! I don't need this right now! I really don't! I asked you to help me, not to take fucking advantage of me!"
I just stood there. I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I could say to make her feel any differently now. I just stared.
She looked away and said "I'm going home." She turned and started walking down the street. I was still frozen in place. All I could do was let her leave. I watched her return to Olympus, leaving me alone, down here on Earth.
