Ruth Writes

A young couple walking hand in hand with cheesy grins on their faces. An old couple linking each other as they hobble together in comfortable silence. A red faced young boy walking briskly with his hands full of flowers and chocolates. All of these in love people strolling around the world with their little red arrows stuck between their shoulder blades. That’s right, contrary to popular belief, Cupid doesn’t shoot you in the heart, he shoots you in the back. Guess who taught him that? I did.

If you shoot them in the heart, it’s too easy for them to pull it out, but shoot them in the back and two things happen: they don’t expect it and it’s harder for them to get it out. That’s what I had told him. As Cupid’s older sister and archery coach, I taught him all that he knows. You’d think he’d have been born with all the skills he needed as the chosen Cupid of our generation but no, our parents had been handed a complicated prophecy with rules attached and we made him Cupid. It was that or misfortune for all of us for the rest of our lives. Who knew love could be so dark and twisty?

I watch as he spots two lonely souls on opposite ends of the shopping centre. He pulls his travel-size bow from his jeans pocket, slips two trick arrows into position and sends them shooting into the air where they then peel off in two directions. We’ve been here an hour and that’s arrows nineteen and twenty he’s just shot. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. He is almost shaking with excitement. He’s already walking like he is floating, and he has a permanent grin on his face.

‘Look at all of the love around us already,’ he exclaims, touching the inside of my wrist briefly so that I am blessed with his view. Every single person making their way through this centre has a tiny red arrow protruding from the middle of their backs.

‘Beautiful.’

‘Isn’t it just?’ He’s positively glowing.

‘You’re supposed to be resting before tomorrow?’ I scold. He holds up his hands and apologises. A mischievous smile plays around his mouth. He pokes me in the side.

‘So, are you going to let me shoot you tomorrow?’ he asks.

‘Absolutely not. I’m still not ready,’ I say. One of the perks of being related to Cupid is that I get to choose when I fall in love. I like being single and nine times out of ten when Cupid shoots he doesn’t miss. I’m not ready for the commitment yet.

An arrowless stranger walks past us and without missing a beat, he shoots one at him.

‘Cupid!’

‘Sorry, sorry, I can’t help it!’ He skips forward and squeals gleefully. ‘I just love love!’

‘I love love too, but for the love of all that is good in this world, please, Cupid, calm the fuck down.’