Constancy
The God of Love Meets His Match
"Mind if I share your bench?"
"No problem," said the God of Love.
He moved over. They sat and watched the ripples on the lake. Ducks squawked at the geese. Petals dropped from the blossoming trees.
"Name's Lou."
"Victor. Vic."
They shook hands.
"Those are some hot mitts you got there, Vic."
"That's me. Burning up."
"Me, I'm either freezing or pissing or both."
"Prostate?"
"Like a watermelon. Bladder the size of a walnut."
"They got drugs."
"I suppose they do." They both thought about that for a while.
"What you up to, Vic? Watching the girls?"
"The girls. The guys. The kids. The birds."
"Ecumenical. Your age, I'd be watching the girls. Cupid behind every tree on a day like this."
"People think that."
"What, they're wrong?"
"Fat kid in diapers with a bow and arrow? Let's say I doubt it."
"Okay. Maybe not literally."
"The love racket, believe me, you need professionals. Adults. For starters, you got your product, which isn't perfect. When is love not a mess? You remember those old billboards, Lou? Next time you need help, try calling a hippie. Well, next time you're wife-to-be two times you with your best man at the wedding, try calling a naked baby with a bow and arrow."
"What? That happen to you?"
"I know the guy. A work deal."
"Jeez. Okay, Cupid's off the table."
"Good."
"Anyway, I thought love sold itself. Like all the basics. Hate, greed. Happiness, to be fair."
"People think Coke sells itself. It's a brand. Somebody's got to work on the brand."
"You sound like you got the inside track on this."
He considered telling Lou that he was the God of Love. Usually that was more trouble than it was worth. He was trying to take the day off.
"I've thought about it."
"You want to hear something funny, Vic?"
"I could use that. It's been a rough week."
"My wife used to tell me I was the God of Love."
"I tip my hat, Lou. What did you say to that?"
"I didn't argue."
"You're a lucky guy."
"To a degree. Yeah. Who knows. Maybe she was right."
He looked at Lou. He wore a tweed hat and a frayed trench coat with stains on the lapels. He had a cane propped between his knees.
"I don't know, Lou. I mean…" He gestured vaguely.
"Maybe there's more than one. Assuming there's even that many. You got, say, your front-end guys. Your long-term satisfaction guys. Maybe a crisis-management unit. A team approach."
"What end were you working?"
Lou sat quietly. Finally he said, "Look at these girls, Vic. They don't even know how good they've got it. They don't know they're never going to feel better than they feel right now. It's like not knowing you're rich. "
"We don't want to get down on ignorance. People see into the future, the love business just gets that much harder."
"You want to know how long I was married?"
"I'm guessing, what, thirty-five years?"
"Sixty."
He whistled. "When it works, it works."
"She was sick the last five. Wheelchair. Needed somebody to feed her. Trapped, basically. Five long years, my friend."
"I'm sorry, Lou."
"This is the deal you sign up for."
"Not everybody. Not everybody thinks they signed up for that."
"The wife was not one for a nursing home."
"Who is?"
"Right. You got your own decay, and then you've got everybody else's. As if you need more. So one day she asks me how much do I love her."
"Tough one. What did you tell her?"
"After sixty years. How much do I love my arm? It's this old withered thing hanging off my shoulder. No muscle. Chicken skin. Some tattoo I got in the service that used to be the devil smoking a cigarette. Now it looks like a bag of flaming shit. But Christ, it's my arm. Been there as long as I remember. I could live without it, sure. But I don't want to."
"Not really a Valentine card, Lou."
"Yeah, well, fuck the easy sentiment. She says, if you love me, you'll round up a bottle of Oxycontin and a tumbler of brandy."
"You read about this stuff."
"That's what you want to do. Read about it."
"You did it?"
"Let me tell you. You think you can't wait to be done taking care of somebody who's dying. Until you realize she'll be gone. But not you. It's you against her, no matter what."
"What did you do?"
Both of the Gods of Love sat silently for a while.
"I loved her," Lou said. "You know what I did."
Find more information on Anthony Schmitz's novels, Darkest Desire: The Wolf's Own Tale, Thereafter, Mermaid in Vegas, and Valentine's Café, at AnthonySchmitz.com.
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