Page 20 of Song of Memories

“These are peonies and that is sage.” Eurydice pointed out each delicate blossom, Telodice’s face equally thrilled. For the next ten minutes, Eurydice was lost in the ancient pleasure of sharing her excitement over something with a loved one. It was one of the world’s oldest sacred moments, for even Prometheus shared fire. Eventually, Eurydice led Telodice over to her favorite corner of the garden where Pan’s trellis was safety tucked against the garden wall.

“Pan made this for you?” Telodice’s eyes widened as she evaluated the delicate carvings and the intricate craftsmanship. “I didn’t think Pan was capable of anything other than drunken destruction.” Telodice scoffed, her head full of memories of the infamous god of the wild running through vineyards and forests drunk off wine and ambrosia.

“He’s not always like that,” Eurydice defended him sharply. “I mean, he’s like that a lot,” a smile crept across her face, “but he’s fun. He reminds us all what it means to be wild, you know? Children of the forest…” Eurydice broke off when she realized Telodice was staring at her with a confused expression on her face. Her brow picked up as Eurydice carried on about Pan’s attributes.

“Anyway,” Eurydice coughed sharply, “these are crocus blooms. I’m hoping for a little more rain, and they’ll bloom gorgeously.”

Telodice dropped back into the conversation without another word, and Pan wasn’t mentioned again. Eurydice was laughing at something Telodice said, her hair falling out of its braid and her cheeks covered with emerging freckles when Orpheus’s voice echoed through the courtyard.

“Eurydice? Are you out here again?” A chill went down Eurydice’s spine, and she noticed the speed at which her good mood vanished—as if a dark cloud had suddenly come up over her sunny afternoon. Telodice picked her head up and spun around, eager for a glimpse of the hero.

Orpheus was standing in the doorway to the main house, his toga gleaming in the bright afternoon sun. It was trimmed in gold, with elaborate patterns stitched into the border and decorated with pearls. Eurydice fought the temptation to roll her eyes.

I hate that ridiculous chiton. He looks like a child pretending to be Apollo in a school play.

Orpheus took one step into the garden, holding his hand up to see better. His bright yellow curls were practically cherubic, and Eurydice thought she heard Telodice audibly sigh. She looked at her friend, who had her hands clutched over her heart. Eurydice did roll her eyes a little bit at that.

Everything about Orpheus looked like he was truly Apollo-blessed, but his svelte stature cast a damning shadow over the garden path. Eurydice couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t as strong as Pan… Pan was broad, thick, and covered in hair. Orpheus looked eternally like a young model for the sculptors—nearly hairless, tall, and lithe.

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Eurydice shook herself out of her reverie, damning herself for thinking of Pan’s body—her friend, of all people—when Orpheus stepped into the light.

“Eurydice!” Orpheus called out again, his voice notably tenser.

“Come and join us, my love!” Eurydice forced herself to sound cheery, cringing at the awkward high pitch that overtook her voice. She waved Orpheus over, but her heart fell when he shook his head. He tilted his head to the left, motioning for her to go to him.

“Can I speak to you privately, please, Eurydice?” Orpheus snapped.

Eurydice quickly spared a glance at Telodice, horrified to see the surprise and disgust on her face. Orpheus was being completely ignorant of the fact there was a guest standing in their garden and was snapping at Eurydice like she was a dog trained to heel.

“Now!”

“I’m coming, Orpheus,” Eurydice shouted, quickly turning to Telodice. “Will you give me just a moment? He’s been stressed recently. Forgive him. I think adjusting to the Underworld has been difficult.”

Relief and understanding flooded Telodice’s face, and she nodded rapidly. “Oh, of course.” Her voice was sickly sweet. “I understand that. It’s difficult for everyone. I’ll wait here. You go to him.”

Eurydice gave Telodice a tight smile and started walking briskly towards her husband, growing more irate with each step.

It’s wild how the world is so quick to forgive men for their tempers, but may the gods forbid a woman ever has a bad day.

Orpheus was tapping his foot repeatedly as Eurydice approached him and she attempted a placating expression.

“Are you not feeling well, husband?” Eurydice couldn’t avoid the tense way she spit out the word ‘husband’. Orpheus practically grunted at Eurydice, refusing to look at her as he studied Telodice in the garden.

“What is she doing here?” Orpheus’s voice was full of contempt. It dripped with a hatred that shocked Eurydice. She had no idea why he would be upset at Telodice’s visit.

“Telodice? She’s my friend. I was showing her the garden. You’ve had an endless string of guests ever since I moved in. I didn’t think it would be a problem for her to visit. She’s not even inside.”

Orpheus groaned dramatically, crossing her arms over his chest. More bitterness took root in Eurydice’s chest as Orpheus’s expression twisted until it looked like this was the most annoying conversation he’d ever been a part of.

“I invited those guests, Eurydice, not you. I don’t know who that nymph is. Her…” Orpheus stuttered for the right word. “Her energy is all over the house. It’s messing with my process. I haven’t been able to write a stanza since I arrived. You know everyone’s expecting me to come out with new compositions.”

Eurydice forced herself to swallow her pride, shame, and embarrassment starting to build at the base of her spine. “Do you not even want to meet my friends, Orpheus? I was showing her the garden.”

Eurydice’s eyes brightened as she implored her husband to see how happy the project made her, beginning to speak faster as she sought out a way to bring them closer together.

“There is a whole wall of crocuses in the back and some wonderful poppy blooms that I think you’ll love! Why don’t we take a walk through the garden now, together? That might inspire you. You can meet Telodice and…”

“Eurydice, please,” Orpheus groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “I don’t want to see the flowers,” he snapped, the last of the kindness leeching from his tone. “I want you to send Telodice home. Now.”

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