Cupid and the Day for Fools

“And they say my holiday is stupid,” the airy voice sighs. 

Each important holiday has its icon. Without the faces representing them, the celebrations have one less thing to celebrate. Christmas has Claus, Easter gets The Bunny, and Valentine’s has Cupid. And April Fools Day doesn't have anyone. Which is why it isn't an important holiday. That’s also why Cupid is out patrolling humorless frat boys and women that have fake pregnancy tests and too much time on their hands. She also didn’t have much of a choice when her boss assigned her the task of keeping the humans in check. Today, in her many rounds of monitoring, Cupid has identified enough unrealistic plastic human waste and bottles of itching powder to open her own novelty store. She has had to endure witnessing 178 unfunny pranks and 0 funny ones. Since April 1st has historically been a peaceful holiday of harmless fun, Cupid spent all of three seconds deciding that she would only stay in one town and keep her eyes open just enough to bring a report of activity back to the Fellowship of Celebratory Figures. 

Sitting in a plaza somewhere in Southeastern America, as the sky transforms into that classic tangerine, Cupid knows that there is nothing left to expect of this night. This day for fools has never been an event that lasts from midnight to midnight. Workplace jokes occur for a few hours and then observers move on with their tasks like it was any other day of the year. 

But, for one young woman, today might not be just any other day. In the middle of the plaza, with her face in her hands, a familiar girl stands berated by a familiar boy. Cupid watches as the girl straightens herself out, crosses her arms, and sniffles. The boy just keeps talking loudly, looking around to make sure the scene hasn’t brought too much attention. He waves his hands beside him as if the words he was saying weren’t effective enough to be understood by the girl. Addison Cleary is her name, and the boy is Parker Philpot. Last Valentine’s Day, the holiday that Cupid was truly meant to patrol, she came across the two outside of a well-known college party epicenter, where she was ensuring the safety of young women. With wings out of sight, Cupid didn’t even need to get close to the couple to see their instant connection, the air around them changing into a shimmering aura. And with her sweet impulsiveness, Cupid took the shot and scored two heart-shaped bullseyes. Sure they say Love is patient, but that doesn’t mean falling in Love has to be. The faster, the better, Cupid has always thought, and she had never been wrong before. But, maybe Cupid should’ve gotten a little closer to see that it was simply glitter in Addison's hair and on Parker’s shirt. Stupid Cupid.

Normally, Celebratory Figures like to fade into the background, making appearances that are just long enough to make a human feel like they’re going a little crazy. But, Cupid wasn’t like those other creeps that crawl down chimneys in the middle of the night or leave quarters under a pillow in exchange for teeth. Cupid loves humans, and she loves letting humans know that she’s there. Sometimes she’ll let a wing stick a little too far outside of her jacket or let her halo shine a gorgeous ring onto her hair. And now was one of those times. As Parker Philpot leaves Addison Cleary in the middle of an empty plaza, with tears collecting underneath her chin and a hand in her curls, Cupid knows it’s time to be seen. She got it all wrong, and she owes Addison. Big Time. 

The walk from her seat to the disheveled girl was awkward, to say the least, because of Cupid’s little high heels echoing through the plaza. She didn’t even know what she was going to say once she reached Addison. She could barely even rehearse due to the staredown she was receiving from the girl just paces ahead of her. 

“You were just broken up with,” Cupid decides to say once she reaches Addison.

Good one. 

“We had a bit of a disagreement,” Addison Cleary says very clearly as if she hadn't just been crying her eyes out. 

“And what was the disagreement?” asks the Angel.

Cleary pauses for a moment. Two moments. Then three moments. 

“If it was a disagreement about something more important than a sports game or what you wanted for dinner, I think you’ve been broken up with. No one cries about what they want for dinner.” Cupid holds her hands behind her back. This was the only way to explain to Addison the things Cupid saw. When two people are truly, madly, deeply in love with one another, it’s visible. They don’t have to be dating or married or even know that they’re in love. As long as Cupid knows. Color dances around them when they’re together and even when they’re apart. When they touch, it’s as if the lovers have their own personal sunset silhouetting their shape. With different couples, the colors of the auras are always different as well, but every couple has one. Together and apart, their color beams and shimmers unapologetically. And Addison Cleary doesn’t have one. Parker Philpot definitely didn’t have one. Together, they only made the colors of the background behind them. 

“They kept warning me,” and Addison begins to weep again. 

“He hurts you?” asks Cupid, hands shifting from her back to her sides, prepared to call the Fellowship to ensure Mr. Philpot never saw a Christmas gift under his tree for the rest of his days. 

“No. He knows he’d never see the light of day again if my daddy ever found out,” she laughs. Cupid wonders if she’s supposed to laugh at that. Southerners, she thinks and then returns to the subject.

“He cheats then?” she asks. 

Addison hesitates.

“He says it was once and that he regretted it,” Addison finally defends Parker, a boy undeserving of defense. 

“Addison, no boy ever cheats once, and they sure as Heaven never regret it. They regret that they gave you the ability to find out,” says Cupid, and then realization.

There is a long pause between the two of them, and Cupid hopes that it’s because Addison is trying to process the beauty that was that piece of advice. 

“You know my name?” Addison questions the angel.

“We went to high school together, now listen-” she states quickly before Addison can get too suspicious. 

“Sometimes the universe gets things wrong. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” 

“To make sure the universe can’t get it wrong again.”

The two girls are tethered by their hands as Cupid leads them both to the first shop that makes up the perimeter of the plaza; an itty bitty florist. Inside the shop, a little lady stands. Cupid didn't have to look at the little golden nameplate of the woman's chest to know that this was Margery Inkman. Cupid was the reason for the 27-year-old wedding ring on Margery’s hand. 

“Marge, darling, 2 dozen pink roses please,” Cupid requests, out of breath.

“Oh! Okay, six will be forty dollars,” replies Marge. 

Without question, Cupid slips a one hundred dollar bill from the little wicker satchel hanging at her hip. She silently thanks the Fellowship for her per diem. Margery Inkman had wasted no time bringing the six bouquets to the two girls, and Cupid makes sure that the three bills make it into Marge’s hand. 

“Oh, baby, this is a-” the sweet woman begins, but Cupid is already giving her farewells. 

“You have an amazing night, Mrs. Inkman!” and the two girls are out the door, arms full of flowers. 

“What are we doing with these?” questions Addison. 

“Making friends,” the angel replies, “All day long, I’ve been watching people do meaningless pranks and be awful to one another. And now, I think you really need a friend.”

I owe you everything in the world, Cupid wanted to say. You wasted a year on a mistake I made, she thought. Cupid notices Addison looking around the plaza, which is practically empty apart from enough people to count on both hands. 

“Step one, get these thorns off of our skin,” says the angel. 

The girls waste no time plucking singular flowers from the bunches in their arms, the white tissue paper surrounding the arrangements making a sweet static sound. Their first target was an older man sitting on a bench outside of the coin laundry right beside the florist. He had no glow, no shimmer, no sunset, and Cupid definitely didn’t know his name. He sat alone with his legs crossed over one another and a coffee cup in his hand that rests on the back of the bench. 

“For you,” Cupid says gently. 

The man inspects the flower for a moment. He smiles warily. 

“What, is it gonna spit water on me? You got some sneezy stuff in here?” he laughs at the girls before him. 

“No sir,” they say in unison. 

His eyes crinkle with his beautiful smile. What he lacked in shimmer, he made up for with an award-winning grin. Bidding the man goodnight, they move onto the next person. This goes on until all nine people in the plaza have been given a flower. These people include a janitor, a street food vendor (who gave the girls his last hot dogs of the day, to which cupid slipped twenty dollars into the tip jar without him noticing), and three glowing couples. Cupid did her best at not saying their names. 

“We still have a whole dozen roses,” Addison Cleary points out to the giddy angel. 

“We’ll just have to find more people to give them to then,” she reassures. 

They take off onto the sidewalk outside of the plaza, fingers sore from thorns. Without even speaking, Cupid quickly leads Addison down the pavement. She asks the human to hold her flowers and then digs into her little wicker satchel. 

“I’d hate to see tickets on the cars of these fine people,” and then Cupid is dashing to get the quarters from her hands into the parking meters. 

“Don’t just stand there, darling! Do good!” exclaims Cupid. 

Addison takes a look around at what good deed she could be doing.

“Uhhh..,” she begins, and then “Oh!” 

Addison takes notice of the litter on the sidewalk. Hesitantly, she sets the flowers on top of the garbage can to get to work collecting the fake lottery tickets and crumpled up fast-food wrappers. As she cautiously carries the litter to the receptacle, a woman passes by, and it’s visible on her face that she has no idea what the girls are doing and why. Coins continue to clink into the meters when Cupid shouts,

“I love your shoes!” 

The woman was already glowing, but she seemed to get brighter once she processed the compliment. Addison agrees and dumps the trash from her hands. 

“And, here.” Addison plucks a pink rose from the bunch and hands it to the woman, who looks like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

“Have a goodnight,” Cupid exclaims. 

Addison wonders if the other girl ever says things without sincerity and cheer. Cupid smiles so widely at the woman that is walking away from the pair, her brown eyes are barely visible. She probably doesn’t, Addison Cleary decides on. Cupid finishes putting coins into the meters and begins spinning in a slow circle until her eyes land on something.

“Here, take some of these,” Cupid hands Addison a handful of quarters.

“Where did you get all of this change?” 

“I’m magic.”

The two head for the row of vending machines across the street, jaywalking all the way, trusting the illumination of street lights and the braking speed of the drivers on the road. 

“Put in at least, like…..you know what, just dump them all in there and I’ll give you more,” explains the angel. 

And she does just that. Cupid and Addison Cleary stand at those vending machines, jumping between them, placing quarters into the slots until they decide they are tired of it. From the look of the worn buttons on the machines, the girls could tell that they were used often, and both hoped it would make someone's day to be able to grab a free snack or two or three.

“Candy or chips?” asks Cupid. 

“Candy,” answers Addison.

“Great choice.”

Eating their treats, Cupid and Addison rack their brains trying to think of what kind thing to do next, when Addison confesses, 

“I don’t know your name.” 

Cupid takes a sharp inhale. 

“Angel,’ she decides. Not a lie. And, before Addison can think of another question, Cupid is complimenting a passerby.

“Cool shirt! I love that band,” she starts, and then quickly returns her attention to her new friend, “Wait, do you hear music?” Cupid ponders. Addison is more focused on the whiplash she receives every time Cupid speaks. She simply cannot begin to understand the girl's light attitude and fast-paced thought process. She settles with the knowledge that not everybody can be fully understood. Especially ones that she can’t remember going to high school with. Then, Addison is swept away again, trotting behind Cupid with their hands intertwined. She was certain that if it was possible for the other girl’s ears to move, they’d be perked up and twitching like a bunny. Addison was finally able to see the source of music Cupid was so devoted to finding. 

Standing on the corner, in a grey pullover and dark jeans, a man strums an acoustic guitar. The guitar case sits open in front of him, waiting for its first tip of the night, and Cupid has one last crisp hundred dollar bill. 

“You play beautifully,” say’s Cupid.

Addison just smiles at the boy, who smiles right back, and Cupid wishes others could see the way these two start to glow.