we were – or where we were even headed. Before I could open my mouth to ask he halted abruptly in his tracks, heaving both jars upward to better grip them. In vain my eyes tried not to notice his muscular, lean arms. Not nearly so scrawny as they used to be, long hours of work in the fields had shaped him more in the likeness of a man now than a boy.
“She won’t stop talking about the festival of Ashur,” spoke Aeros, nodding in Phaena’s direction. “My only prayer is that it will come and go soon. I think I’ve had all I can take.” He flashed his bright grin, adding, “Let’s just say she isn’t the only one praying for a husband to come and take her away.” Glancing down at the pavement beneath us, his expression seemed stuck for a moment.
“Can you reach inside my pocket for me?” he asked.
Embarrassed, I glanced to either side of us.
“Both my arms are full and I’ve brought something for you,” he explained quickly.
Too confused to object, my hand reached obediently for the pocket at his hip, fingers sinking blindly inside. Fearful of what anyone watching might think, I seized the first object I came to – grateful to withdraw. Pulling it from concealment by one end until it dangled between us, I saw it was a leather cord. If I hadn’t been so dazed, I would have caught the nervousness in his voice as he shifted weight and explained.
“I carved it for you last week, during my midday meals.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, hesitant to look me in the eye.
At closer inspection I saw a tiny bird had been fastened near the end of the cord, carved with great detail from a small piece of wood.
“It’s a necklace,” he concluded – voice gaining momentum.
I swayed before him – unable to think what to say. No one had ever taken so much consideration of me. Now that I thought of it, no one had ever given me a gift before. My lips moved as if to form words, though nothing came out. By this point I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not I was dreaming.
“You know it’s almost time for the festival of Ashur,” continued Aeros. “There is that part before the ceremony when all the girls celebrate with dancing. I don’t know – you know, before the sacrifices.” Here his words began to run together amid his eagerness. With chin tucked safely down he inhaled briefly before looking up. “Wear it for me at the festival,” he asked. The lines on his face softened, his eyes holding mine just long enough for me to know his meaning. “That way I’ll –” his words trailed off at my undiscernible expression.
Had I been less stunned I would have taken greater pains to alter my response. I would have adjusted my face – relaxing it so that I didn’t appear so unforgiving. Instead, I could feel my vision narrow. I could feel myself pull away. The few steps between us now stretched like miles of Assyrian desert. The innocence and naivety of his request somehow isolated me – sending me back to the lowest district where I’d come from, back down the winding dark trail leading to my mother’s house, curling me up near the oven, waiting for her lover to depart. In the face of his generous offering, I felt more detached from him – from the others, than ever before.
Aeros had never understood, and never would. It was easy for him to be kind when he had a mother so gracious and a family so respected. Why couldn’t he see like Phaena that even their mere association with someone like me could be considered charitable at best? In truth I was far beneath them – an infiltrator broken into a house not his own. I pretended, for a brief moment in time, to belong – yearning. Why did he dangle the impossible in my face, as if I were one of the oxen in the field, led by a treat forever out of reach while I pulled my heavy load? I looked blankly back on his openness, questioning whether or not he was even sound of mind to ask such a thing of me.
Already I could feel my neck become rigid once more – my lips sealing shut as so often they did. I wanted to ask him why he was trying to make fools out of both of us. I wanted to hand him the bracelet and see him stuff it back into hiding, so no one would know of this. Unsure what to say, I blinked – trying to slow the fiery rhythm of my heart. Perhaps he found this all amusing – perhaps he found me humorous, or found my life entertaining. Considering for a moment whether or not he merely pitied me, I tried not to shudder visibly. With every passing second he stood waiting, my anger swelled. The immense effort of cracking my lips felt as if I were breaking the mold from a plaster statue – the pieces crashing to the ground to unveil a hidden splendor.
Though I succeeded in opening my mouth, I was scarce afforded the time to speak a single word. From my right side someone gripped my extended wrist and yanked me from Aeros. With mouth ajar I dropped the necklace I held, face turning upward to meet with my aggressor – eyes rising to look back on the colorfully painted face of a tall, dark woman. Towering, with long black tresses that fell below her waist, she leered down over me like a cat with a mouse pressed between its claws. Like chains, the bracelets she wore stacked up both her arms clanked as she secured her hold on my arm. Gripping my wrist with one hand, she pulled my face close to hers with the other – the warmth of her breath pouring down my neck as I squirmed.
“Baila’s daughter,” she pronounced over me – as if I didn’t know who I was.
I cowed in her presence, startled beyond struggling any further. Distracted by Aeros, I hadn’t noticed her approach us from the side. Now more alert than ever, I soon saw she wasn’t alone. Standing idly behind her, another, slightly older prostitute smiled at us with yellow teeth. To my further dismay, I realized the street we were walking on had become busier than was usual for that time of night – several passers stopping to watch what took place; enough so that a small gathering formed around us. Scarce able to believe what was happening, my limbs at once became petrified with humiliation – any strength I possessed now seeping from me like my breath into the night sky. With face twisted toward hers, I couldn’t see Aeros – and nor did I want to. I wanted more than anything to melt into the pavement cracks below.
“Are you about her business now or have you found a handsome young conquest of your own?” she jeered, releasing my wrist only to take my small face in both her hands. Choking back her evident fury, she leaned close to my ear to whisper, “Ask that gluttonous spider of a mother you have how long she thinks she can keep Rab Seen pinned between her legs. If she is lonely for company and there is not enough for her in her own district, then perhaps I can send someone else to pay her a visit – though not to bed with her.”
Laughter from her female companion filled my ears. I was familiar with both of them, though only from a distance. They worked the streets near the central temple where wealthier patrons could be found – though neither of them was as successful as my mother. Even from so far away – crouched in the lowest district of Arrapha, my mother’s reach was long enough to agitate the entire city. Beginning to feel the edges of her decorated nails bite my skin, I cleared my throat.
“I’m sure she would welcome it,” I responded – voice even and low, “Just as she welcomes another of your bored lovers tonight.”
Eyes widening, her nails cut into my cheek with sudden vigor.
The sound of smashing clay unlocked our gazes, drawing them toward Aeros. Without success he had tried to set the load of jars he held down, in the end throwing them to the stone pavement beneath him. In an instant his hands were on the woman’s shoulders – brow furrowed and neck straining. It took him only one shove to send the woman flying into the arms of her companion, who after catching her friend began to shriek unending profanity at us – only drawing more attention to the spectacle we’d become.
In silence I lifted my hand to my cheek, fingers probing the throbbing wetness of blood drawn from the lengthy scratch left across my skin. Refusing to meet the concerned stare of Aeros, I turned away. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Hesba, weeding her way through the gatherers – with Phaena holding off in the distance. I didn’t bother to check their expressions – or whether they’d seen what transpired, instead moving in the opposite direction, pushing, much
like Aeros had with the prostitute, to free myself of the scene.
I was too fast for any of them to catch. Traveling better in the dark than most, I sunk familiarly into it with comfort and ease – my feet carrying me from a hasty walk into an outright run as soon as I was out of sight. When far enough from the main road, I stopped to lean against a house and check my heart – wondering at the faintness of its beat. It felt as if it were flickering out inside me, like our oven at home, when we had barely enough fuel. Running my hands down the wall behind me for support, tears of humiliation began to stream down my burning cheeks. A moment longer and I began to sob aloud – at first low, beginning in my gut, but then bursting uncontrolled from my lips in the same manner mourners wailed at funeral processions.
Afraid of being found, I forced myself to continue walking – like a drunkard at night, barely able to see where I went, and with only a vague notion of where I was headed. By the time I reached the eastern city gates, my sobbing had thankfully lessened – reduced now to raspy, short breaths, my walk becoming increasingly more resolute with each step I took. In passing the lonesome entryway pillars of Arrapha I was able to conceal most of my