My eyes light up as Eros continues to look at me with confusion. I am going to convince him to sleep in that haunted crib one way or another. No matter how hard I have to fight him. There are a few tricks up my sleeve that I can pull, but I need to test the waters out first.
“How do you suggest I sleep in the crib?” he asks, his brow raised.
I look at the crib for a moment. It is definitely two sizes too small for my husband, but I am sure I can shove him into it. I look back at him, grinning. “Just curl up into it.”
He snorts in response. “Not a chance.”
“For me?” I pout. Trick number one: The pout. This one can help me get away with a few things, like eating peanut butter and pickles. I was able to convince Eros to go out in the middle of the night to grab me some pickles when I was pregnant. And if the pout hadn’t worked, I would have used my spoon to threaten him.
“Don’t we have someone we hate we can put in there?” he asks, frowning. “How about Deimos?”
I smack him. “You do not hate your brother. Take that back!”
“Hm…” he ponders as his mind comes up with more ideas. “How about Duck?”
My eyes narrow at him. “Get in the crib, you chicken. I thought you were the son of the God of War?”
Trick number two: Calling him out. I find this one less effective, but he suggested putting my little fox in the crib. This is justified.
“You calling me a chicken has no effect. Who do I look like? Phobos?” he asks, frowning.
“You do look like him, actually. Have you stopped working out?” I ask, smirking to myself. Trick number three: Ask about his looks. My lovely husband is quite vain, and if all else fails, mention something about how he looks different. It usually works every time.
“Stop it,” he says, touching his stomach.
I poke his gut lovingly. “I love your pudge.”
Eros blinks at me. “Fine! I’ll sleep in the crib!”
Bingo. I clap my hands together, giggling. Picking up one of our video cameras, I set it on the dresser and press the record button. Everyone is going to want a copy of this.
“It will be like those ghost movies!” I squeal.
Eros flips me off before stepping into the crib. He looks up at me in frustration as he squeezes his 6’2” frame in the tiny crib. “Can’t Hedone try this?”
“Fathers are supposed to make sure that their children are safe in strange contraptions.” I giggle, clapping my hands together.
Suddenly, our door opens, and Hedone pops her head in. Her gaze falls on her father, who is currently wiggling himself to lie down in the crib. She blinks a few times, trying to comprehend what in the name of Hades is going on.
“What the…” she mutters.
Eros pokes his head up in the crib. “I thought you were on a date?”
“I still am. What is the Netflix password?” she asks, blushing. Our daughter finally admitted her crush to her best friend, Margaux, and the two of them had their first date tonight. It is cute to see her like this.
“I’m sorry?” He blinks at her, crossing his arms. He gestures around the apartment. “Does this look like a Netflix and Chill kind of family?”
Hedone bursts out laughing, and I join her. Eros frowns at both of us before opening his mouth to speak once more. “You take her to the movies and try to feel her up awkwardly in the back rows. It is a rite of passage.”
Hedone shudders at the thought. “And did you do that with Miteras?”
Eros looks over at me, his eyes glowing at the thought. “I would totally have felt her up in the back of some amphitheater back in the day.”
I look over at Eros as my face burns red at the distant memory. “Do you mean you forgot?”
“You know what…I’ll just put in a DVD.” Hedone shudders once more before slamming the door shut.
“You are not getting laid under this roof, young lady!” Eros shouts loud enough for our daughter to hear. “That’s final!”
I glare at my husband. “Now you are definitely sleeping in that crib.”
“I can’t fit, Aren.” Eros huffs, still struggling. “What do you want me to do? Shift into a baby? That’s creepy.”
I frown at him. “Sit in it.”
He obeys, sitting awkwardly in the crib, so his arms and legs are straight in the air. He wiggles a bit more, but the sound of him struggling tells me he is stuck. I smile to myself in a small victory.
“Aren!” he shouts.
“Goodnight, Lykos.” I laugh, crawling into our bed.
“You’re going to make me sleep like this?” He huffs again. “In a maybe haunted crib?”
I turn off the lamp beside my bed. “You forgot about that one time at that play in Ancient Greece. So yes.”
“I didn’t get to even feel you up. I could barely get the stones to touch your knee,” Eros says in the darkness. “I’m not sure that counts.”
His words have me frowning. Does…does he not remember? I know it took a while for all my memories to come back to me, but has he not gotten any of his back? That concerns me. If he hasn’t gotten his memories back, then there could be greater forces at play. That or he doesn’t want to remember.
“Aren…” he whispers.
“Goodnight.” I sigh, curling into a tighter ball.
“I thought about kissing you pretty much every moment since I knew what a kiss was,” Eros says, the crib creaking as he struggles in it. “I only touched your knee that day because I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.”
I sniffle softly, ignoring him. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t want to remember.
“I’ll…talk to you in the morning,” I whisper.
“Aren…” He sighs. “I’m stuck.”
With a small smile, I turn to look at him. “That will make it easier for the ghost to haunt you.”
Eros gapes at me. “Clio!”
I make spooky ghost noises, giggling as he tries to maneuver into a more comfortable position. A white figure appears on the opposite side of the crib. Its face slowly starts to form into an older lady. She stares at Eros with big eyes.
“Um, hello,” Eros says. The ghost hisses in response before disappearing into the blackness. “Well. It’s haunted.”
I watch as the crib starts to shake slightly, and I sit up from the bed, my eyes widening. “Lykos?”
“I said, it’s haunted,” he says, his head tilting to the side.
“I can see that,” I mutter, blinking.
“Are you going to help me out?” Eros asks before letting out a loud oof. He looks down at his chest. “You need to lose some weight. How can a ghost weigh anything? Off!”
“I don’t know if you deserve to get out,” I tease.
“Deserve?” he whispers huskily. His crystal blue eyes glow in the darkness. He looks away from me for a moment, swatting at something off to his right. “Fuck off, ghost.”
I smirk at him before laying back down. “Goodnight, my love.”
He sighs. “Aren, I do remember the play. What could you possibly be mad about?”
I shake my head, sitting up. “No! You clearly don’t! You must have been too drunk to remember.”
He tilts his head. “Drunk? Wait, which time are you talking about?”
The ghost reappears beside Eros’s head, picking at his hair. It coos to him, laughing. “Cute, little baby.”
I huff. “Clearly the one you don’t remember. You didn’t talk to me for weeks after it.”
“I didn’t?” Eros blinks. The ghost continues to play with his hair. My husband finally whacks it. “Don’t touch the hair.”
The ghost wails, disappearing into the darkness again.
“You didn’t…” I mumble.
“Aren, will you help me out of the crib so we can have a real conversation?” He sighs. I close my eyes before walking over to the crib. Holding my hand out to my husband, he grabs onto it, and I pull him from the crib. He stumbles from the thing before brushing his pants off. “So, crib, yes, haunted. Talk to me, what am I not remembering?”Where to begin? What to say? I sigh to myself. This is going to be a long night.