Cupid Gets a Name Chapter 1, part 1 of 3

Cupid Gets a Name
Chapter 1, part 1 of 3


The sun was shining, and the most extreme heat of the summer was finally dissipating. Having something good and hearty for dinner on a night when the nausea wasn't hitting him seemed like a fantastic idea. Wade ordered and walked to the café a few blocks away. It was one of his favorites, but he hadn't felt like walking all summer, and it felt oddly too close to drive. The mask he was wearing mainly had become second nature.

Wade put in his earbuds for the walk and turned on some cheerful, upbeat tunes for once. He was feeling less weighed down by the fight. Whistling to himself as he walked wasn't normal anymore, not for some time since everything seemed more challenging. The air felt cool and noticeably less humid than it had been months before the diagnosis.

As he turned the corner toward Melodia's Taqueria, his vision was involuntarily tugged from his target to a bulky, tall man. The jerk grabbed Wade's face mask and pulled with a sharp yank.

Wade watched as his N95 sailed several feet away and landed in a gutter, suspiciously full of indescribable muck even a week after the last rain. One of his earbuds clattered against the hard cement and bounced across another puddle onto the parking lot's asphalt.

"Pussy! Are you still scared of the virus!?" A hulking man was red with rage as he screamed at Wade. The drool and pathogens covered Wade's face as a blast of foul breath made him cringe.

Wade tried to take a breath and go through some of the coping mechanisms his counselor had taught him, but this jackass had gone too far.

"You dumb motherfucker! Do you think me wearing a mask is impinging upon your freedoms?

How is someone else wearing a mask forcing anything on you?" Wade was done taking shit off anyone. He was trying to enjoy a pleasant day, but the idiot had earned his ire.

"I'm trying to free you from being scared. Are you worried that COVID-19 will still get you?"

The man smiled proudly as if he had done Wade an immense favor.

He badly wanted to deck the man, but an iota of self-preservation was intervening, holding him back. "Asshole, I'm being treated for leukemia! I have cancer, you stupid motherfucker! I want to get some dinner without catching a cold and dying if that's not too much to ask! It's not all some grand conspiracy against you."

Since he had gotten sick, Wade's patience had frayed to non-existence. He was seeing a therapist as part of his treatment, but this was too far.

"Whatever, you're just a pussy." The ignorant man chuckled, but at least he had taken enough steps back so his saliva wasn't speckling Wade's face, and he couldn't smell his horrid breath.

"Yeah, I just lost all my hair to inconvenience your dumb ass." Wade pulled off his ball cap to reveal his bald pate and lack of eyebrows. Aggressive chemo had robbed him of both.

"Maybe you just like to shave your head." The idiot wasn't getting the picture.

"And my fucking eyebrows?" Wade glared at him with anger and incredulous disbelief in equal measure. No one can be this dense, can they?

"You'll thank me later." The man grunted with two middle fingers extended before he turned to get in his obnoxiously tall, lifted truck parked across the only three EV charging spots in the strip mall. There was a belch of sooty black as the man pulled away. Wade wondered what parts of the Bible were being referred to by the plethora of decals on the back window because it wasn't anything he had ever encountered in church. The Golden Rule isn't 'be an asshole to your neighbors.'

"Fuck." Wade sighed. He tried to gather his calm from his discombobulated state. Taking some deep breaths, Wade first ventured to grab his wayward earbud. His hand cradled his now-marred earbud, which was emitting a new painful screech as he delicately pinched a clean spot on his soiled mask. He would not leave it littering the sidewalk.

That'll teach me to enjoy a walk. He deposited the N95 in a bin. Should I go home? Wade debated internally. It had been forever since he had mofongo, and Melodia's had the best in town. I should have ordered online and had it delivered. He'd already ended up in the hospital with a secondary infection once during his multiple courses of chemo and radiation.

If I'm going to catch something, the idiot yelling in my face probably already supplied plenty of germs, Wade reasoned before he stepped into the restaurant. His stomach growled and decided for him. When he was hungry, he had to take advantage. He'd lost too much weight and strength during his treatment already. He'd been in the best shape of his life before he got ill, finally shedding his scrawny image. That was quickly returning, though along with it came a pasty complexion since he rarely got outside these days.

"Hello, Wade!" welcomed the friendly proprietor and namesake of Melodia's. The restaurant was a local institution named after the woman by her parents when she was an infant.

They'd since returned to Puerto Rico to care for Dia's grandparents and left the woman the café.

"Hey, Dia. It's been a long time."

Wade had a crush on the beauty back in high school, but they had never been in more than an English class together, and he had been so socially awkward back then. A memorable research project in the class prodded a renewed longing. Wade summoned enough courage to ask her to prom at the project's end. Dia had sweetly rejected him by letting him know she had accepted a date with the man who would become her husband. An N95 mask concealed her best physical feature, her smile.

Tight black curls were escaping from her ponytail that was corralled by a bow with a pair of prominent flags interwoven in the accessory's fabric.

Dia had always been immensely proud of the state where her parents had raised her and the territory they had come from. The twinned flags adorned several spaces in the restaurant as well. It was a fetching contrast to her cinnamon-colored, seemingly flawless complexion.

Dia stood almost half a foot shorter than Wade, not because she was particularly short but because Wade was several inches taller than six feet.

Other than her round bottom and perky, large breasts, Dia was lithe. Her warm, brown skin was mainly hidden by a mask and the long sleeves of a fetching lightweight pink jacket over the jeans and T-shirt that were the taqueria's official uniform.

"I heard. I'm sorry, Wade. I saw what happened in the parking lot." There was a flash of awkwardness in her eyes.

This is why you can't get angry. You never know who's watching. Wade considered and tried not to get discouraged; he couldn't undo what he did in the parking lot.

"Did you want another mask?"

"Please," Wade confirmed with a nod as he hid his humiliation. He'd been hoping no one had seen his outburst.

"The team is trying not to track anything back home. It doesn't seem to bother many, but the few that complain are vociferous."

"I missed your vocabulary, Dia." Wade smiled as he put on the mask. "I'm not sure how I attract assholes. I must have looked like a raving lunatic, though. I haven't been able to hold my tongue since I got sick."

"I think seeing all my crew wearing masks set the moron off. I don't know how I got him in the divorce. I don't think Chet can make the same foods without the connections to Puerto Rico anymore. Authentic ingredients are important. It's too bad that Martin's catering jobs pay so well. I would cut the fool off if I hadn't already signed the contract." There was a glare of anger in Dia's eyes, but it passed quickly.

"Divorce? I'm sorry to hear that. I liked Chet's cooking." Wade said honestly. He'd thought Dia and Chet had made a handsome couple.

"My new one is even better, and she's not a raging asshole. We changed the menu slightly to suit her broader palette, but your usual is still based on my family's recipes."

"So, how've you been, Dia?" Wade smiled. Even after all these years, he couldn't help it when he was around her.

"Things have been rough since my parents left, but." Dia paused and grimaced. I don't want to discuss that at work. It'll break me down, and I can't do that here." There was intense pain in her warm, brown eyes, and tears welled in both.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, it's why I'm still taking catering jobs from that ass hat," Dia whispered conspiratorially.

"Is this Wade?" questioned a rotund young man with a white plastic bag filled with takeout containers in his hand.

"Yes, that's him." Dia stood a little taller. Wade could see a forced smile in her eyes.

"Here you go, sir. Your payment already went through online."

"Thank you." Wade wasn't a raging asshole unless someone provoked him. Even then, it took a lot to push him into a screaming match.

Mortification overcame him for how he had acted, but he thrust it aside. I guess the adrenaline finally wore off, he decided, as anxiety took its place.

"Nice to see you, Wade. Don't be a stranger anymore, okay?"

"I'll do my best. Seeing you always brightens my day." Wade grinned. Before getting sick, even saying something relatively innocuous like that to a beautiful woman like Dia would have spiked his anxiety and forced him to beat a hasty retreat. At least I got a little more courage out of this.

"Good, we have something in common." Dia gave him a covert wink as she waved.

With only a wink, Wade felt like he was floating back to his apartment with a bounce in every step. His shame would doubtlessly return, but he would enjoy the moments he could. Wade had to listen to his music in disappointing monophonic, but he didn't care. It was amazing how quickly a tiny gesture could completely calm him and send him home with a smile.

Dia - That evening

"Sorry, Roberta. We had a huge catering order come in, and Melissa needed help getting things out the door," Dia explained as she set her purse on her medical bill-cluttered table.

"No problem. Jose's still at the firehouse, anyway." The young woman, Alfredo's favorite babysitter, ignored Dia's concerns. After the semester, Dia would have to find a new sitter when she graduated with her degree in architecture.

"Is Mijo asleep already?" Dia took off her mask.

"Yeah, he was tired when he got home from school. He ate well but wanted to go to bed early,"

Roberta said, sighing.

"This last round was rough on him. I didn't want him back in school yet, but he was insistent."

Dia sighed.

Alfredo's latest round of chemotherapy was particularly debilitating for her seven-year-old.

Before his non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma diagnosis, Fredo fought naps and slept like they were anathema to his existence. Dia had wanted to keep him out of school longer; however, her little boy had different thoughts on the matter. He wanted to see his friends, and the doctor said the risk of sending him to school with a mask was negligible.

Dia crept across the apartment and eased Alfredo's bedroom door open. The little boy was sleeping deeply, and she kissed his forehead softly. She didn't want to wake the little boy since he was sleeping so soundly, but she had to check on him. It hurt her to spend so much time away from her angel. The medical bills wouldn't pay themselves, unfortunately. Dia needed to ensure that her restaurant kept her income source secure. Chet's child support checks were sporadic as he toured around, training and working with other chefs.

"I think he's getting a little better. How's the restaurant?" Roberta kept her voice low as Dia crept out of her son's room.

"Martin's officially cut off after this last catering job."

"Makes sense." The asshole that was Chet's close friend hadn't ingratiated himself with anyone at the restaurant. Dia would have refused him long ago if not for the man's mother and her close relationship with Dia's parents. "What did he do this time?"

"Took a mask off and yelled at one of my best customers. One that's fighting leukemia."

"What the fuck?" Roberta looked dismayed. "Was this Wade?"

"Yeah. He looks like he's doing a little better now."

"Good."

Dia had a crush on the man back in high school. During their senior research project, he had been a bright, tall, quiet, and hilarious partner. She'd hoped the man would ask her to prom when the project wound down, but Chet had asked her first, and she had already said yes by the time Wade had worked up the courage.

"You had dinner? If Jose is on fire duty, I could use a friend for a little while."

"As long as I'm off the clock now."

Cupid 542 - That night

"What are you up to, my dear?" Angela fluttered into 542's den. They had just gotten back to their home from the first vacation the pair had been on since they had renewed their relationship.

"How did I miss this one?" Five hundred forty-two muttered as he peered deeply into his magical notebook. It contained notes about potential love matches and could replay their past.

The pair's likely future was represented as a tangle of possibilities that an expert cupid could tease out, leading to an infusion of magic in the material and magical planes.

Industry in the magical plane that overlaid Earth like a dimension humans couldn't see revolved around producing emotions in the mortal world. Many emotions could multiply a blast of magic and send it back into the ethereal world as a vital power source. A hidden hand encouraged friendship, Wrath, Sorrow, Inspiration, and many more. None of it was as powerful as love.

"Miss what, my love?" Angela flitted onto 542's lap to help review the notes. Her calling as a muse had as much of an effect on 542, even without being able to employ her magic powers.

The inspirational spells did not affect fellow mythical creatures. They were perfectly capable of experiencing the same gamut of emotions as the humans. Still, theirs could neither be influenced by the magical nor directly multiply the magic in the aether around them.

In a panic, 542 quickened his words, saying, "Everything goes so much better if I can make up for one more miss."

"You have months until Valentine's Day." Angela tried to calm him and prevent a worry spiral.

A few years ago, Angela had been 542's boss in the True Love Division when the tradition was born. Angela rediscovered her love for being a muse, and 542 fended off relegation to the Lust Divisions. In the years since, he'd been on a winning streak, and Angela rejoining the muses allowed them to renew their relationship. Magical beings that worked in the Love Domain couldn't date others in the same domain.

"Yes, but if I don't start now, everything goes poorly. Everything would be different if my last arrow weren't off target." Five hundred forty-two pointed at his notebook.

"But if you hadn't missed, this one would never have been born. Don't beat yourself up, my love."

"You have a point," 542 conceded.

"Just let me know when you need a muse."

"Always."

"What reminded you of this miss on our vacation?"

"We were on the islands, and that food was so amazing, but the flavors reminded me of her parents' café." Five hundred forty-two opened his notebook. "I hadn't looked since I missed. I didn't think I could make amends."

"Okay, I can make some tea, and you can run it by me. You have months until Valentine's Day.

It's not like this is life or death."

"This time, it might be. He might not make it if I can't get them together by then." 542's many millennia-old heart was beating intensely in his chest. "If I don't get things in motion soon... the path is already perilously thin. I need to move."

"Tea and calm emotions, babe," Angela reminded him. She was his rock and why he could make big swings again. She zipped out of the room to put on the kettle.

Angela had earned a name and gotten her transfer into the True Love Division by inspiring
Shakespeare and a genuine love story that many of his sonnets were based on. They did not give a magical being a name at birth; instead, they were known by a number until they began an occupation. It was then that their calling prefaced their number. 542 was one of the lowest numbers that still didn't possess a name.

It became the highest taboo to mention the mythical creature's number again once someone earned a name. Five hundred forty-two remembered Angela's number very well. It was still decorated on his brain, but he would never slip. He couldn't. Angela meant too much to him.

His winning streak would have been impossible without the love and assistance of the incredible angel who shared her life with him.

"So, do you have any previous successes to aid you?" Angela barrel rolled into the home office without spilling a drop of their mugs of tea. The woman was showing off but didn't even mention the precision flying.

During the previous two Valentine's Day challenges, as 542 saw them, he had helped a pair of women who were best friends discover their love for each other. The pair was wed last Valentine's Day. On that same day, he helped a man and woman figure out they loved each other at the wedding.

The Love Division sought possible magic engines from mortals' love lives. A tiny influx of power would be returned exponentially dependent on the power of the love created. Using the pairs of lovers radiating energy back into the aether, a cupid could nudge them into helping make new connections that would lead to more love for the mortals and power in the mythical world.

"I do, but I'm unsure how they can help in this case." Five hundred forty-two accepted the mug from his mate and took a tentative sip. Angela liked tea much hotter than he did, but not only was the beverage slightly cooled, but it was his favorite blend. They had plenty of her preferred tea, but he had sipped the last of his before vacation.

"Why's that?"

"One of the ladies is doing a rotation for her doctorate with Wade's oncologist, and another will be in the operating room for Melodia's son's biopsy in a few weeks. Not exactly times or places for romance."

"I've seen flowers bloom on boulders by the sea with the tiniest amounts of soil. It will not be easy, but there's always a chance. Besides, you have the world's greatest muse in your corner."

"She makes everything possible."

Wade - a few weeks later

"Mr. Coolidge?" A new face stepped into the exam room.

He had been expecting Dr. Tolbert to discuss the latest test round. "Yes, doctor?"

"I'm a nurse practitioner. I'm not a doctor yet, and even when I am, they won't call me a doctor at the hospital. Please, call me Tabitha or Tabi." The woman smiled as she set a tablet on the counter. "Dr. Tolbert had to rush out to pick up his sick daughter from school. He went over the tests with me before he had to run."

"Okay? Why can't you be called a doctor if you get a doctorate?" Wade was stressing over the results from his latest blood tests. Another illness had just passed, which he attributed to his encounter with an idiot outside his favorite restaurant. He dreaded his counts were still going to be recovering from that.

"I will be Doctor Bryne outside of a medical setting, but my doctorate is in nursing, and they don't want to confuse patients." The beauty of straight, dark hair and a warm complexion was explained. Her choice of an orange sweater beneath her clean, white lab coat worked well with her warm brown skin tone.

"That's too bad."

"Nah, I knew what I was getting into." She shrugged and smiled incandescently. "Before I start my questions, I wanted to let you know your tests look spectacular, Mr. Coolidge."

"Really?" Wade smiled. This was the first time any pokes and prods had returned with anything resembling excellent news.

"Yes, sir. We're seeing normal white cell counts, and Dr. Tolbert thinks your immune system handled your about with pneumonia well."

"Huh." Wade was in disbelief. He'd spent the morning bracing for the worst. He'd almost called his therapist to work through his feelings before he came to his appointment.

"You might be on the road to growing your hair back." Tabi smiled as she pulled up a cadre of charts to go over with Wade. "Though, I'm somewhat partial to bald guys, personally." She winked. "My boyfriend shaves his head because he's bald." The nurse grinned.

"Yeah, I've been slightly worried it won't all return."

"Either way, just rock the look with confidence."

Tabi sat on a stool beside the exam table and reviewed a myriad of charts and data with him.

They were hopeful for the results of more tests and an MRI after the next round of chemo. If he kept up with his miraculous improvement, he might be cancer-free before the end of the year.

After she went through her charts, Tabi asked, "How was the nausea after the last round?"

"Bad the first day, but the symptoms got better far faster than before."

"Fantastic. This next round should be better still. How's work?"

"I've been lucky that things have been slow, and my boss understands. I've been able to keep up with my projects."

"Have you been going to work?" Tabitha was taking notes on her tablet.

"No, I seldom do. I'll go in once a week, but they understand that I'm trying to keep from getting sick," Wade explained. "Umm... Dr. Tolbert usually leaves these types of questions for my regular doctor."

"I'm sorry. I believe in a more holistic approach. We're treating the leukemia and the person, if you don't mind." Tabi's warm brown eyes exuded calm concern. It was like he wasn't just a number on a chart.

"Not at all."

"I know your immune system has been bonkers, but have you been getting out any?"

"Again, trying to keep from catching anything. I have a weekly catch-up with friends online.

Most of them moved away after college, anyway. The last time I went to pick something up from Melodia's, it didn't go well."

"Is that the Puerto Rican café on seventh?"

"Yeah. It's fantastic." The food was incredible, and occasionally, talking with Dia was a delightful bonus.

"What happened when you went last time?"

Wade recounted his encounter with the man who had stolen his mask and how he got sick after the episode.

"I can understand why you would want to avoid that. Have you frequently lost your temper since the diagnosis?" Tabitha asked.

"Far more than usual," Wade said with a sigh. "The bad thing was I felt good that day. Do you know what it's like to figure out your life suddenly might not be as long as you thought? To suddenly worry that you wasted so much time?"

"I do, probably not the same way you're feeling it, but I haven't been a stranger to tragedy and trauma," Tabitha explained but didn't elaborate. "Have you been seeing a therapist?"

"Yes, funny that this is finally making me confront my social anxiety."

Tabitha covered another few more questions before turning him loose. "We'll see you at the end of the month for your next, and maybe, last treatment."

"I can only hope." Wade smiled as the woman ushered him from the exam room.

"We'll all be praying for you."

"Thank you, Tabi." Wade put on his ball cap and left the exam room. His oncologist's office was on the hospital's fourth floor, and after a maze of hallways, he had to walk by the waiting area for the Operating Room on his way to a bank of elevators.

Wade couldn't help looking over to see how packed the room was and met Dia's eyes in a corner. A tear streaked down her face and disappeared under her mask. Her leg nervously tapped on the ground, and the magazine in her hand was likely unread.

I wonder if she still likes Diet Coke? Wade thought. Wade saw nothing around her and imagined the agony of being in a waiting room alone. He stopped at the bank of vending machines to grab her a Diet Coke and, himself, a Pepsi.

When they had done their senior project together, Dia was hardly ever without a Diet Coke.

Wade regretted taking so long to summon the courage to ask her to prom back then, but this wasn't about that. It looked like Dia could use a friend.

"Dia?" His heart was pounding as he stepped into the waiting room.

"Wade? What are you doing here?" Dia wiped away a tear.

"My oncologist's office is that way." He pointed in the likely direction of the office, though he wasn't sure after all the twists and turns. "I was walking to the elevator and saw you through the window. I'm sorry to intrude, but you could use a friend and a Diet Coke." Wade offered her a bottle.

Dia - That Same time


To be continued