If I Had Words

Back to chapter menu     
Chapter 42      Chapter 44

Morning came and Eros could tell right away that things were not going well. 

Psyche lay sleeping inside a cave. 

Clearly she felt that she was in a prison, being punished.

He sighed.

He wanted to show her how to fix things, wanted her to know that she was putting herself in the cave, but it would make more sense if she did a few things herself. 

He found it hard to be patient, though.

She was taking a while inside the cave. There couldn’t be all that much to do in there. He decided to turn invisible and check on her. 

Inside she made a comical sight trying to get out of her wedding dress. 

It was definitely not her style. 

He wondered what she would have picked for herself to wear. 

It felt strange just standing there, not helping. He decided to try to loosen some of the strings, but he felt something push back on him. 

Let her do it. 

Odd. 

He’d never felt his world try to communicate with him before. He’d always seen everything as inanimate materials to be molded and bent to his will. 

Was there more to his world than he knew? 

The idea seemed impossible.

At any rate, she did figure it out. Her own will and wishes started to emerge and she loosened the cords. 

Dressed more simply, she emerged from the cave.

He wondered why she didn’t think to change her clothes or wash. 

As she emerged, she took in a deep breath of fresh air. She seemed to like that.

Psyche walked around and Eros kept his distance to observe. 

She created a berry bush and collected some of the berries. 

Then she spit them out.

She was really struggling with this place. Hopefully she wouldn’t starve before she mastered it. 

Eros watched her go back into the cave and go to sleep. 

He shook his head. This was going to be harder than he thought. 

She’s getting it. 

His world was talking to him again. 

How do you know? He tried communicating back.

It felt so weird communicating with the building materials he’d used and organized countless times. 

We can just feel it. She feels different. 

Interesting. 

Even this world was being affected by her. 

He decided to go to see how her kingdom was fairing without her. 

As he landed in his usual field, he noticed a palpable “cloud” over everyone. He couldn’t blame the people for missing Psyche. 

He visited where her shrine had been and noticed everything had been taken down. Seeing the empty space made him sad. 

Well, hopefully the people will bounce back. Hopefully his mother would fill the world with love somehow and help them heal from their loss. 

He wondered what Psyche would do. When Daphne died, he remembered Psyche comforting the people. The people were likely mourning Psyche in a similar way and would need comfort. Would his mother know how to comfort them? Would another god or goddess step in and help them heal? 

He doubted it. 

Well, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. It was probably time to get back to Psyche anyway. 

He made his way back to his palace and was pleased to note that the cave had been upgraded to a cottage. Hopefully that meant she was changing her perspective of her situation. 

She’s doing better, the elements said. 

Eros guessed the sleep helped. 

How was it that sleep helped mortals so much? Was her dying body that much of a burden? He’d never had one, so he didn’t know. 

Did she eat anything? He asked. 

Just some porridge. It seemed to fit what she needed.

What she needed?? He’d never thought about that. His world was full of surprises. 

He watched her wander around a slightly improved garden. She seemed to enjoy the berries more this time.

The sun began to set and he was struck by how beautiful she was as the colors played on her hair and face. He wished he could be with her, talk to her, fully enjoy their time together. It was agony waiting for the sun to fully set. 

He watched her wander and noticed that she seemed lost. 

Was she trying to get back to the house? 

Finally the sun set well enough that it was dark and he could finally talk to her. She had apparently given up her attempts to make it back to the house and had sat down on the bench.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

Psyche yelped and stood up. 

He stifled a chuckle. Poor Psyche. She hadn’t known he’d been there watching her for a good part of the evening. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But I noticed you seem lost here in the garden,” he said.

“I’m not lost. Well, not exactly. It got dark and I couldn’t see my way back to the house,” Psyche said.

“I can help you,” he said. “Follow my voice.” 

It seemed like a reasonable way to help her. She might not be able to see, but she could hear where he was.

Right? 

As he moved along the path, Psyche followed along pretty well. He slowed down so that they were beside each other. He imagined for a moment they were having an evening stroll. He looked over at her and noticed she’d lost track of him and was getting caught in the hedges which outlined the path. 

She was about to fall.  

He caught her arm and pulled her back towards him.

She was pressed against him as he tried to think of what else he could do to help her get back to the house.

“Hmm… This won’t do,” he said. 

Maybe he could guide her well enough by holding onto her arm? 

He started walking, but she followed haltingly, unsure where he was going. 

This was going to take forever.

Eros stopped.

“It would be much faster if I carried you. Do you mind?” he asked. 

“Carry me?” she said.

She didn’t seem to like the idea as much as he did.

“It would be a lot easier,” he said, hoping that would convince her. 

“I guess so,” she said. 

Eros picked up Psyche. 

As he walked, and she bounced along, he thought of something.

“It would make it easier if you held onto me,” he said.

She obediently held on better, bringing her body closer towards his center.

“I hope it’s okay to ask …” Psyche started to say, but then trailed off. 

Now he was curious what she was going to say. 

“Ask anything,” he said.

“It’s nothing,” Psyche said.

“No, really,” he said. “I don’t mind.” 

She seemed to be embarrassed.

“What kind of creature are you?” she asked.

Eros chuckled. She was still trying to make him out. He kept forgetting that she was experiencing this whole thing in a completely different way. 

“I have two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes. I am in a form like you — only a man,” he said.

They reached the house and he set her down.  

Psyche leaned against him as he started to move away and give her space. 

“Do you still need help?” he asked, steadying her.

“Well, I can’t see. I’m not sure how to navigate around the room without bumping into something,” she said. 

He didn’t know why it was so hard for him to remember that she couldn’t see. 

“Oh, right,” he said.

Eros took her arm and led her to a chair. Psyche could rule the house during the day, but he had changed it back into his regular palace. 

“There’s a chair here,” he said.

She felt for the seat and then carefully sat down. 

“I still don’t understand the need for the dark,” Psyche said. “It’s not as if I would judge you or be afraid.”

“You might be afraid,” he said. 

He couldn’t help himself. He was only joking, but the idea seemed to make her pause. 

“Anyway, most of the gods fear me,” he said, trying to sound casual.

He didn’t really want her to fear him. He wanted her to love him. 

“Oh?” Psyche said. “Why would they fear you?”  

“Because I have the ability to make them miserable,” he said. “Most people fear being miserable.” 

She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“But,” he said, changing the subject, “how do you find my palace?” 

“Your palace?” she said, confused.

He knew what she had done with it, but she might as well know what it was supposed to be. 

“Yes. How do you like it?” he asked.

He was curious how she would handle the disconnect with what he was saying and what she saw earlier. 

“Oh,” she said politely. “It’s quite pleasant.” 

“Really?” he said. 

Psyche struggled for a moment. He figured he might as well help her.

“Our home was a cave at first, wasn’t it?” he said. 

“Why, yes,” she said, sounding surprised. “Though I thought I imagined it, given how tired I must have felt.”

“True,” he said. “After your nap you allowed it to change.”

“I allowed it to change? What do you mean?” she said.

“Like I said last night, this world can only become what you’re ready for it to become. How were you feeling when you went to sleep after I left you?” he asked.

He wondered how honest she would be with him. Likely she wouldn’t reveal everything she was thinking or feeling. 

“Well, everything was quite strange,” she said carefully. “I didn’t sleep very well.”

She must have had a horrible night. He felt sorry.

“That contributed to what the palace could be. It was limited because of your fears,” he said.

“How would my fears have anything to do with your house?” she said.

“You’re in it. Your presence affects what my house can become,” he said. “You notice how it changed after you woke up later in the afternoon?” 

“Yes, it became a cottage,” she said.

“Right. You let it change,” he said. “You let it become something better as you let go of some of your doubts and fears.” 

This was a lot easier to explain now that she had some experience with his world. 

“I let it change?” she said. “By letting go of my fears?”

“Yes.” he said, feeling hopeful she was getting it. “As I said, it is built on what you want, what you expect, and what you allow things to become. I imagine you were still fearful at first and your fears kept things from realizing their potential.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “How could I possibly change things? Aren’t things just what they are? A chair is a chair, a house is a house?” 

He inwardly sighed. Apparently experience alone wasn’t enough to teach her. 

How was he going to explain this?

“True, in the mortal world, things are confined to what they are,” he said. “A chair can only be a chair exactly as the carpenter built it. It gets used, grows old, rots or dries out. At some point it becomes too brittle and breaks. Eventually it is no longer useful. 

“Here, it has more potential. Not just in how it lasts, but in how it grows. It’s not just pieces of things forced together — cut, sanded, and hammered together. They come together, form a chair, and continue to grow in its purpose and function. 

“But it’s based on the creator — you. And, well, me. We can either limit what things can be, or we can let them grow into something better, something more.” 

“How do we let them grow into something better?” Psyche said.

Eros held back a groan. 

“You have to allow for the possibility. You have to encourage it. When you want something better, when you allow for the possibility that it can be better, you give space for it to grow and change,” he said. “It depends on what you want. It also depends on what you will allow. When you give permission, when you encourage it, things find the energy and power to change.” 

“Like the gardens?” she said.

He felt hope that she was starting to get it, but he wanted to make sure it made sense to her.  

“What did the gardens look like the first time?” he asked, trying to back up the conversation a bit.

“They were a bit unkempt,” she said. “Did I do that too?” 

“Yes,” he said. “You were afraid. You were doubting. But then you allowed it to become something better.”

“True,” she said. “It became a more beautiful garden when I woke the second time.” 

Eros felt relieved they were finally making progress with what he thought were rather simple concepts. 

“The berries I ate,” she said. “What about those?”

“How did they taste?” he asked.

“Um, sweet, and then bitter,” she said.

“What were you thinking?” he asked.

Might as well step her through the whole process. 

“I was worried,” she said.

She probably thought they were poisoned. A suspicion which would make sense to her mortal mind. 

“That’s what turned them bitter,” he said. “Did you have anything else to eat?” 

“Porridge,” she said. 

“To fit the cottage,” he said, realizing it as he said it. 

His world really did know her.

“I guess so,” she said.

He wondered whether she would like something else to eat.  

“Are you hungry?” he asked. 

Her stomach gave a loud rumble.

“I guess that answers my question,” he said. “Would you like to eat something?” 

“Yes, thank you,” she said. “But…”

“What?” he asked.

She wasn’t afraid he would try to hurt her or poison her, was she? 

“How will I eat? I can’t see anything,” she said. 

He felt puzzled. How did sight have anything to do with eating?

“You don’t need your eyes to chew and swallow, do you?” he said. 

“I suppose not,” she said. 

She didn’t seem satisfied. Maybe he could start her out with something simple. 

“Here,” he said, trying to hand her a persimmon.

She didn’t take it. 

Maybe this is part of what she meant. She couldn’t see to reach for the food. 

He took her hand and placed the fruit in it. 

“Try it,” he said.

“What is it?” she said.

This was going to take a lot of patience. 

“A persimmon,” he said. 

“I’ve never had one before,” she said. “Is it good?” 

“Yes, it’s very good,” he said. “But, would you prefer something more familiar? A fig or a pomegranate perhaps?” 

The suggestion of the other fruits seemed to make her more uncomfortable, though he couldn’t imagine why. 

“I’ll try this,” she said. 

She seemed to be struggling with something. What was making her afraid? 

As she took a bite, she seemed to struggle with the taste.

“It tastes bitter?” he asked.

“Very,” she choked, still trying to recover. 

“Psyche,” he said, trying to help her feel calm. It was the only way she would be able to really taste the persimmon. 

Her fear was overwhelming her. 

“You have to be calm. I’m not here to hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he said. 

He put his hand on her arm, trying to reassure her. That seemed to make her more nervous. 

Was she that frightened of him?

Hoping it would help, he guided his hand down her arm until he held her hand where she clutched the persimmon in a strained grip.

He thought for a moment. How could he help her? 

She can’t see, the elements said.

The elements had a point. How would she know what to expect? She couldn’t see what it was. He needed to be her eyes and help her see. 

“Do you know what you hold in your hand? This is my favorite fruit. It is mildly sweet and comforting. It isn’t tart or overly sweet. It’s perfect,” he said.

He moved her hand and the persimmon up to her nose. 

“Can you smell it?” he said. “Can you smell the soft sweetness?”

He gave her a moment to smell it. 

Then, surprisingly, she took another bite.

Her body visibly relaxed. 

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“It’s delicious,” she said. 

He couldn’t believe that worked!

“See?” he said, deciding it would be worth spelling it out for her again. “When you were afraid, when you doubted, it couldn’t do what it was meant to do. Your doubt and fear stopped it from tasting good to you.” 

She took another bite. 

He couldn’t help smiling. This was delightful. She made everything so much more interesting. 

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for teaching me and giving me a chance to try something so delicious.” 

“Would you like to try something else?” he said, eager for more. 

“Yes,” she said, feeling more confident this time. 

He took the persimmon out of her hand and replaced it with a cheese he hoped she would like. 

“Is this cheese?” she asked.

This was rather fun.

“Yes, but you might find the flavor somewhat different,” he said. “Don’t worry. It tastes quite good.” 

Without hesitating, she took a bite. 

“It’s good,” she said. 

He couldn’t wait for her to taste more. 

“Here,” he said.

He offered her an entire plate full of as many delightful things that he could think of. He even let the elements add in a few things. As they explored the food together, he tasted a few himself. They were surprisingly good. 

He made a mental note to let this world grow more. He realized he must be holding it back a bit too. 

“That was absolutely delightful,” she said as they finished. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said. 

“Very much so,” she said.

Psyche continued to surprise him with how powerful simple things could be. 

“That’s how it works,” he said. 

He hoped she would move beyond the porridge tomorrow.

“I’ll try,” Psyche said.

“Psyche,” he said. “It also depends on what you want; what you think you deserve.” 

“What I deserve?” she said.

She didn’t seem to know her worth. How could she doubt her worth? Didn’t it show in the way the people worshipped her? 

Wasn’t it obvious? 

Apparently not. 

He wanted to show her. 

For now, he felt he’d given her enough to think about.

Better not overwhelm her. 

As he left her that evening, he hoped they would soon be out of the cottage. He didn’t mind the simplicity, but it just didn’t fit her. 

She was worth so much more.   

Back to chapter menu     
Chapter 42      Chapter 44