79 AD
Chaos. The masses surge through the streets, pushing and shoving in a race no one understands, but all refuse to lose. Fighting against this tide, bodies fear-fetid and slick with sweat, I wind my way back into the city, away from the boats heading out into the harbor. Away from my family, staring back at the shore.
I should be among them, safely watching the darkening skies from a distance. Instead, I run beneath the ashen clouds as the fine particles begin to fall, casting our world further into an eerie dusk.
This is not rain. Not clean, clear water falling from the heavens. It is gritty, and dirty, and thick, sticking to sweat-coated bodies, even as they flee.
A glance. That is all I allowed myself, pulling away from my mother’s hand. In that fleeting moment, I saw confusion tighten her brows. Followed by the flood of sadness that overwhelmed her eyes, but even that wasn’t enough to tether me to her side. I can’t go to safety, to be out there on the water watching, knowing that he is still in town.
Was it chance, that first meeting? Or perhaps, the Fates, weaving the invisible threads, pulling us together? The afternoon sun was warm that day, mirroring the fresh bread he was delivering. I had been where I wasn’t supposed to be, my favorite place to hide away in my father’s house, the kitchen. By all accounts, we should never have met.
I loved listening to the gossip in the kitchen, away from the rooms our family occupied. The aroma of dishes being created wafted around me as I heard all the local happenings. The spice-filled scents enhanced the spicy tales as the food was prepared for our meal. It was there in the doorway that I was dallying when he arrived.
Wearing a light linen tunic, he carried a basket full of flatbread from his family bakery. His dark, black hair, long enough for the wavy texture to be evident, shone in the afternoon rays. While beneath, two strikingly deep pools of the blackest ink gazed out at the world.
The following weeks blurred by as we stole moments together. I couldn’t stay away from him. And so, I didn’t, meeting him in secret throughout the city. An invisible rope tethered us together, always pulling us closer and only easing when the other was near.
While his father was a freedman and a respected entrepreneur with considerable wealth, my father was born into his class and wealth. He would never see his daughter married to the son of a freedman, wealthy or otherwise.
Only the gods know what would have happened, which path the Fates had chosen for us, if our world hadn’t begun to resemble Tartarus more with each passing hour.
Need. That is all I feel as I run through the streets, the need to see him once more. The sky breaks and crumbles above me, as up ahead, the bakery stall comes into view. I don’t slow as I rush past, to the residence that is connected behind.
There he stands in the courtyard garden, protected by the overhang of the building, dark eyes turned up to the sky. The debris floating down has already begun to form a layer on the ground, covering the vegetation and floating on top of the water in the stone fountain.
I knew he would be here waiting for me. As our eyes meet, it is clear that he knew I would come, as well. In all the chaos, we knew where we would find each other.
With one last look at the sky, he reaches out his hand to lead me into a small room away from the bizarre elements outside. In the dim light, he pulls me close into his warm embrace, and his lips find mine. This is where I am meant to be, his arms surrounding me, keeping me protected.
The ground begins to shake and rumble before a deafening crack sounds. The ceiling begins to break and collapse onto us as we quickly seek refuge in the corner. We are safe, for now, but surrounded by the rubble and unable to leave. We remain safe from the floating ash that continues to fall from the sky and huddle together in this hazy twilight.
“It seems quiet now.” His words are soothing. “Rest. We will find a way out in the morning.”
Panic. I am jolted awake. The air is thick and smells of sulfur.
A cough next to me reminds me where I am. Using my hands, I feel upward to find the face I love so dearly, but cannot see it in the dark gloom.
I struggle to breathe. I can barely cough. My eyes water and start to sting. No amount of tears will wash them clear.
Then I hear the voice I long for, the voice I live for, the one I cannot be without.
“I am here. I won’t leave you.”
I can feel his hands on my cheeks, but I am unable to reply. Slowly, I nod. It is the only indication I can give, as I feel the pressure in my chest, in my lungs, and on my heart.
