Page 21 of Song of Memories

Eurydice’s heart cracked in her chest. All of a sudden, she felt like a child again, scolded by her parents. The casual way that Orpheus tossed aside her passions and an opportunity to share something—share anything!—together, tossed her further down the spiral she’d found herself in. A deep, swirling pit of shame and embarrassment started manifesting throughout her body, giving her the chills.

Of course Orpheus wouldn’t be interested in the flowers. He’s a famous poet. He’s Orpheus. You can’t expect him to care about the little things that make you excited. Eurydice’s internal monologue started to sound like Orpheus’s tenor voice. You’ve got to grow up sometime and be a wife, Eurydice. It’s time to put childish things away.

“You’re right,” Eurydice sighed. “I’m sorry, Orpheus. I’ll tell Telodice to leave, and I’ll join you inside if you’re not feeling well.”

“Don’t do that,” Orpheus groaned exasperatedly. “Now you look like a kicked dog.” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. Eurydice said nothing as he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged Eurydice closer to his body.

“I’m sorry, my love, my wife, my morning star…” Orpheus sing-songed, pressing a series of quick kisses to her cheeks and nose. “I just want you all to myself sometimes. I’ve spent my entire life dreaming of you again, and sometimes I can’t bear to share you.”

Eurydice melted, some of Orpheus’s words striking at the armor around her soul. He’s not perfect, but he’s a good man, Eurydice, you know this.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Eurydice gave Orpheus a soft smile. In return, Orpheus groped at Eurydice, squeezing her ass quickly before releasing her when she squeaked.

“Now, go let Telodice know that it’s not a good time for guests. Then, come inside and meet me in the great room,” Orpheus waggled his eyebrows, “and maybe you can inspire me a bit.” The innuendo was clear, and Eurydice cringed internally. Orpheus disappeared inside the house before she could respond properly, leaving her standing alone on the balcony.

You’ll find your footing together eventually. It’s going to take time. You don’t even remember being married, and you’ve spent forty years doing whatever you want, single and careful. There will be an adjustment period. Eurydice tried to convince herself the awkwardness between her and Orpheus and his attitude were merely symptoms of a sudden reunion after years apart—and not indicative of something more.

Telodice was waiting patiently on a garden bench, standing up and grinning when Eurydice approached her. She smirked, shimmying a little with a playful expression.

“Let me guess, do you two lovebirds need me to get lost?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Eurydice stuttered. “Orpheus isn’t feeling very well and is worried about something he needs to compose, so…”

“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Telodice laughed, throwing her hands up in the air. “You don’t need to give me any excuses either. If you need to go get bent over the back of a couch, then do it, Eurydice!” Telodice laughed harder, and Eurydice fought the urge to gag.

“I’m sorry Orpheus wasn’t very welcoming—”

“Don’t even worry about it!” Telodice scoffed, a small whirlwind of petals picking up around her feet as her magic started to envelop her. “It’s Orpheus,” Telodice gushed. “He’s so perfect, Eurydice. You do whatever you need to!”

Telodice vanished on the wind before Eurydice had time to respond, leaving her standing in the garden. She glanced over at the trellis with its crocus blooms, and her anguish started to boil into something more potent.

11

Eurydice crossed the garden, storming back into the house. Her sandals slapped against the polished marble floors, the sound mocking Eurydice with every step she took. Everything in the house repelled her, from its overly ornate trappings to the disgusting size of it all.

Orpheus was in the great room, waiting for her, with his chiton lazily undone at the shoulder. He was leaning against a divan of purple silk, and his relaxed posture was the only thing keeping him clothed. If he stood, his chiton would inevitably fall off. There was a barely corporeal shade standing behind the sofa, fanning Orpheus with a large leaf.

The massive atrium was covered in tapestries that told the story of Orpheus’s adventures in Greece and every one infuriated Eurydice further. It was a reminder of the life she hadn’t gotten in the mortal world—and while she had no complaints about her time in the Underworld, what loving husband decorated their marital home with accolades from their period of separation? A separation that Orpheus claimed was full of torment.

“Orpheus!” Eurydice hissed, startling the shade. The specter dropped the frond and disappeared. The sight of Orpheus lounging like royalty caused all of Eurydice’s frustrations to come boiling over to the surface. She had spent a week making excuses for Orpheus and trying to give him credit for adjusting to the Underworld, but his dismissal of her interests and refusal to meet Telodice was now setting her on edge.

“What is this?” Orpheus scowled, cracking one eye open. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well, Eurydice. I’m worried about writing a new song for another party this evening…” Orpheus’s hand dropped to his thigh, and he trailed it slowly back towards his navel, revealing most of his leg to her. “I thought you were going to come inspire me?”

“Can you genuinely think that I want to drop to my knees in front of you right now?” Eurydice hissed, thorns bursting through her skin as her anger manifested. Orpheus’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter, his hands scrambling to tie his chiton closed.

“What the hell, Eurydice? Where is this coming from?”

“Where is this coming from?” Eurydice growled. Vines burst through the marble tiles around her feet, winding their way up her legs. “You have been acting like an ass since you arrived, and I won’t sign up for a life of this, Orpheus. I fucking won’t. Do you hear me?”

Orpheus’s expression darkened as his hands clenched into fists at his side. He jumped to his feet and took a few paces towards Eurydice before stopping himself short.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who doesn’t want anything to do with me! You won’t even touch me, and now you’re complaining we’re not getting along? Who does that?”

“Excuse me for not wanting to spread my legs for you!” Eurydice stabbed a finger in Orpheus’s chest. The thorns breaking her skin snagged on Orpheus’s tunic and ripped it. “You’ve been boorish and rude to me since you arrived. I don’t even remember who you are! This is hard for me.” Eurydice forced the words out. It was a dangerous game to admit any vulnerabilities to Orpheus, but after only a week, she had reached a breaking point.

“How dare you say you don’t know me!” Orpheus thundered, stomping his foot. He turned around and grabbed the nearest vase he could find, throwing it against the wall. Eurydice shrieked and covered her face with her arms as it exploded, sending shards of pottery all over the room. “Everyone knows me! Everyone knows of my grief for you. Even the rocks and the ghosts cried for you when you died!”

“But I did not!” Eurydice snapped. “This story—our precious, infamous story—is known by everyone, but I’ve already lost my memory of it. Do you understand how off-putting that is?” Orpheus's brow furrowed as he stared at Eurydice, the expression on his face turning into something that Eurydice couldn't place. He shook his head slowly, standing up to his full height and looking around the opulent room they were in.

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