Page 23 of Incurably Cupid

I had no idea what had happened to the Mordecai I met last week, but this version of him looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a month. His dress pants and shirt were crumpled, his tie hung loosely, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in days.

The elevator filled quickly. “You okay, Mordecai?” I attempted to whisper, but my deep growl carried effortlessly, slicing through the chatter and silencing the entire car.

All eyes turned to us.

“I’m fine,” Mordecai grumbled, his voice strained.

“He’s reevaluating his life choices,” Indie announced. “He would like a wife.” She casually scanned the elevator. “Anyone interested? He’s had all his shots.”

“Indie, so help me,” Mordecai muttered, his hands trembling as if he longed to throttle her but was valiantly restraining himself.

A striking woman with fair skin and cascading blonde hair cleared her throat and tentatively raised her hand. “I... might be interested. What can you recommend about him?”

Indie pursed her lips, contemplating. “Well, he’s been a teacher for a long time, he’s a solid cupid in the field, he owns a house, and, well, look at him—he’s ridiculously handsome.”

The woman shuffled slightly to better take in Mordecai’s appearance. He instantly straightened, attempting to look both hopeful and effortlessly cool.

Apparently, he nailed it because she nodded. “Yeah, okay,” she said, tearing a scrap of paper from her bag, scribbling her number, and handing it to him shyly before stepping off at her floor. As the doors closed, only one other male cupid remained in the elevator, carefully avoiding eye contact with us.

“Indie?”

“Yes?” she responded, grinning.

“You’re officially hired as myshadchanit.”

Indie laughed. “You’re not Jewish, but I’ll take it. Expect my salary contract on your desk by the end of the day.”

Indie perchedon the large professor’s desk at the front of the class while Mordecai sat behind her, methodically grading papers that students had submitted at the start of class.

I was trying not to laugh. They had just engaged in a brief but intense debate over which color Sharpie to use for grading. Mordecai wanted black like his soul (his words, not mine) or an extravagant purple. Indie had promptly snatched the marker pack from him, handed him blue, and gave the remaining markers to someone named Horror for safekeeping.

As Indie taught, Mordecai kept sighing heavily behind her at regular intervals, disrupting her lesson. The students seemed both bewildered and entertained. Another exaggerated sigh, and Indie halted mid-sentence, closing her eyes. Her lips moved silently—probably counting to ten under her breath, I guessed.

“Mordecai?”

“Yes?” he replied, his voice steeped in misery. Perhaps she had crushed his spirit by denying him his black-as-soul marker or his flamboyant purple one?

I could hear her teeth grinding from my seat in the front row. She had shifted a desk to make room for Lance to park me close to her in the front. She was taking her Florence Nightingale duties seriously. I respected her for it, though I still felt unsettled by my current inability to perform basic tasks by myself. Maybe it was pride, or maybe just my ingrained need for self-sufficiency, but I hated feeling so helpless. At the same time, I admired Indie for stepping up—it wasn’t easy tending to a grumpy gargoyle.

Finally, she sighed, stomped over to Horror’s desk a few seats away, seized the black and purple Sharpies, and stomped back to Mordecai.

“Choose one.”

“I want both.”

“Mordecai, so help me, this is notcolor time!Pick one!”

Mordecai pouted but begrudgingly selected the purple. The class snickered. From what I gathered, part of their amusement stemmed from never having seen their professors behave this way before. If their goal was to humanize themselves in front of their students, they were nailing it. Unfortunately, I doubted that was their intention.

With the sighing now reduced to a minimum, Indie continued. “What are the key aspects of demonstrating love to a partner? Just call them out—Leo will take notes.”

The smart whiteboard behind her displayed the title:Key Aspects of Demonstrating Love to a Partner.

Horror called out, “Words of affirmation.”

Indie nodded. “Keep going. Don’t be shy.”

“Quality time!”

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