Stupid Cupid

The same weather was haunting her pizza place as the previous weekend. The clouds were rolling in, scaring the locals, but annoyingly providing the tourists with a brief respite from the heat and suffocating humidity which seemed to be drawing them out in larger crowds than the week before. The temperature had dropped several degrees as morning had turned to afternoon and the explosive cracks of thunder were making it next to impossible to concentrate. Each time she strung a few thoughts together and positioned her hands above the laptop ready to type, another boom would split the air, making her jump and threatening to spill her drink. The thought of placing the drink down had occurred to her, but unless someone was also going to bring her a straw, it just wasn't happening. The last boom in the sky had managed to somehow take the power with it, and now she sat in the darkened space of the open-plan restaurant, more comfortable without the redundant restaurant lights glaring down on her, and letting the wind off the ocean blow in and whip through her quickly-tangling hair. Every few minutes it picked up just enough to spray a few droplets of rain on her face, but rather than huddling away from it as the tourists did, she stopped and inhaled deeply each time, appreciating the cool spray.

Refusing to let it be a tiresome bother like everything else in her life seemed to be, she continued to breathe in the rain, feeling the magic of it dancing on her face.

A young waiter approached. 'Sorry, miss. The power is out-' Bonnie raised an eyebrow which elicited a chuckle from the girl. 'But I guess you worked that bit out. Anyway, generator isn't working yet so there will be a bit of a wait on food. Sorry 'bout that.'

'How long have you been here?'

'I started at eleven,' she said chirpily. There was no other way to describe it. She was chirpy. That didn't bode well for any interactions she and Bonnie were going to have.

'I meant, how long have you been working here? I haven't seen you before. And I'm always here.' The words sounded dry as they fell from her mouth so she took a long drink in the hope it would grease her words so they at least didn't grate on her own nerves.

'You say that like it's a bad thing?'

The response caught her slightly off-guard. This young woman, she looked to be only nineteen or maybe early twenties at the oldest, was trying to engage her in conversation when most people her own age or older knew to be intimidated. Once she cast her steely gaze their way they backed down. Bonnie eyed her intently. This girl was either stupid, or she didn't scare easily.

'This is my post-Valentine's Day treat. Not to be confused with the treat I had on Valentine's Day or the bottle of wine I drank last night in celebration of my sixth anniversary being a single woman.'

'Oh. That doesn't sound good.'

Bonnie shrugged. 'No, I pretty much did nothing for Valentine's Day this year. I just wasn't feeling it. It is what it is, right? Isn't that what they say.'

'They also say there are plenty more fish in the sea but when did that ever make anyone feel better?' The waitress laughed and Bonnie heard herself laughing in harmony with her. 'He, or she?' she quickly added and Bonnie gave a barely discernible shake of the head to clarify. 'They're out there for you somewhere, that person you're going to love.'

Bonnie cleared her throat. 'Actually they're not.'

'Oh don't be like that. You can't give up so easily.'

'Call it an occupational hazard, but it's next to impossible for me to fall in love. I more have to make do when or if the time comes with whatever the time decides to throw at me.' Her eyes lost focus as she gazed out over the ocean to the storm haunting it above it's depths, aware of how much sadder her reality made her each year that passed. Something that had seemed so trivial in her younger days now cast a shadow over much of her life.

'Oh, do you travel a lot for work.'

Bonnie smiled. This guessing game never ended well. 'No.'

'Do you work long hours?'

'No more than a normal person.'

'Oooh! A mystery job! I bet I can work it out.' The girls eyebrows slid closer together and she stared at Bonnie's face. 'Give me a clue.'

'I'm in the business of setting people up.'

'Oh you work for an internet dating company? That's so cool.' The girl was genuinely impressed, but Bonnie 'tsked' her disgust.

'Please, internet dating is nothing without me.'

'What do you like run the stats in the background or something.'

'Think of me more like the person who fires the arrows. And you can't fire arrows at yourself now can you?'

'You're like a cupid for a dating agency or something! That's so cute.'

A blast of air hit Bonnie in the face as the restaurant lit up again and the fans kicked in. The waitress clapped her hands. 'Yay! Let me see how long on your food,' she practically sang the words before turning and scurrying off, leaving Bonnie with an empty drink and the bitter taste of never really being heard.

It had been several years ago that Bonnie had started to resent her job, both because of how it cut her off from ever really forging relationships, but also because like being in the Secret Service, it wasn't something you were really supposed to lie about. Sitting in that restaurant watching the rain and sipping wine was not a woman who worked for a dating agency, or had an online dating business. This wasn't a woman who regularly ran stats or took guesses on who might work with who. That was child's play and was a job for salesmen and con artists. Bonnie was neither. No, the little secret that Bonnie was hiding it wouldn't even help to share because no one would believe her. She'd barely believed it herself when she had begun living it. But now here she was, more than ten years later, still single and with nothing but a slew of happy marriages behind her, none of which she'd been a part of. In fact, when it came to her line of work Bonnie was the best there was and no one could set up a happy marriage like she could.

There wasn't another Cupid on the planet who was as good as Bonnie Martin or who had a 99% score rate.

Meet Bonnie.

It was too sticky to even contemplate moving. The heat was the main reason she'd been dreaming about leaving this place for the last eight years. The lack of a plan or any sort of clear desire or even something vaguely described as motivation was the reason she hadn't bothered. Wiping away the sweat beads that formed everywhere - and it really was everywhere. The backs of her legs, in her armpits, her neck, and that line on her upper lip that disgusted her so much - kept her busy enough.

The view couldn't be complained about though. A grey sky was trapping in the heat but even with the storm clouds rolling in over the ocean she was happy enough staring out at the murky coloured water. There were days it was pretty, serene, telling her this was a perfect place to really grow some roots and dig in for another eight years, but no view was ever going to make up for the perpetual drip of sweat and paranoia about her body odour.

Why would anyone live somewhere that jeans weren't an option for at least three months a year, she regularly asked herself, but here she was, hanging on because it really was just easier to think that she'd already met him and should wait around for him to realise it was her that he'd been dreaming about.

It was pathetic. She wasn't in denial about that. Worse though was that she wasn't entirely sure who 'him' was. It could've been her brother's best friend, the recently divorced man she'd been fantasising about since she was sixteen and who always dirty danced with her at weddings, clubs, and the like. Or maybe it was the man she'd briefly dated nearly two years before and who had managed to keep her infatuated for a period much longer than the length of time he stuck around for (six weeks had bought him two years of wondering what could've been, to be exact).

Look, the thing was, it didn't really matter who 'him' was, the main thing was that she had an excuse to stay and didn't need to metaphorically grab that bull by the horns and take a flying leap into uncertainty.

Thirty-two, singled five years ago and living in the past, athletic, not career focused but in a job that allowed her some comforts, it seemed silly to throw it all out the window just because of her eternal and passionate distaste for humidity.

Tourists, though. They were everywhere. Coupled with the humidity that was definitely enough reason to move somewhere that was dominated more by locals. Scowling at a loved-up couple sitting at the table beside hers, she took another sip of her wine. She drank too much. She knew that, yet she didn't care. It was the reason her once athletic frame now had a softer feel to it and she regularly reminded herself that there were some men out there who preferred this look. It made it okay in her mind, acceptable even, which allowed her to continue what she was doing without any guilt.

A tropical pizza sat in front of her and as much as the cliche of eating a tropical pizza in the tropics annoyed her to the point of considering ordering something different, it was the very same dish that she ate in this exact restaurant every single Sunday afternoon. Always alone. It wasn't that she didn't have friends as such, it was just more that making plans also annoyed her. Her inner control freak struggled with the idea of not being able to change her mind just because she felt like it, and so each Sunday she ate alone. Picking off the pineapple, then the topping, and then the base. Always ignoring the curious looks from whichever annoying tourist was sat beside her; she was a creature of habit.

The couple beside her now were no exception. They continued canoodling and it was as perfect a reason as any to continue drinking. The thing was - and she had this on good authority from a recently widowed woman she worked with - that loneliness tends to fuel drinking. The woman had practically okayed her continuing to drink with her lunchtime and evening meals, and without children, a partner or any real responsibility other than putting food in the dogs bowls daily and remembering to be at work by 7am, what reason did she have to not drink?

So it was settled. She would drink as much as she was legally allowed to whilst still being able to drive, and then she would remind herself that moving somewhere with an apartment in the city - thus negating the need to limit her alcohol consumption - was a perfect reason to finally move out of this seaside, tourist town that was so far removed from the real world and all the places she would rather be.

That was exactly how Bonnie Martin spent her Sunday afternoon.