41. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
T hrax
Skye and I spill out of our taxi in the heart of Rome, the streets stretching before us, a confusing clash of old and new. My head swivels; I don’t know where to look first.
“Ready for an adventure?” Skye looks as excited as I feel. She’s told me she’s never been here before.
Nodding, I take her hand. “Lead the way.”
We navigate the bustling sidewalks, dodging scooters and cars. The noise and speed of modern transportation still startle me, but Skye’s steady presence keeps me grounded. I keep my arm around her protectively as we’re jostled by the crowd, glaring at any would-be thieves who might get too close. The buildings and language might have changed, but some things always stay the same.
Our first stop is a place called the Spanish Steps. As we approach, I’m struck by the elegant sweep of marble stairs, rising up to a church perched high above the city.
“Why are they called the Spanish Steps?” I ask as we climb. “Varro mentioned that his home country, Hispania, is now called Spain. Did Hispania conquer Rome?” Certainly, someone would have warned me.
Skye pulls out her smartphone, tapping and swiping at the screen. “Let’s see… Ah, here we go. They’re called that because the Spanish Embassy to the Holy See, which is the Vatican government, was once located at the base of the steps.”
We pause halfway up to catch our breath. The view of the city stretches out around us, a hive of activity. In the distance, I can make out the dome of a massive building.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing.
Skye consults her phone again. “That’s St. Peter’s Basilica. It’s in Vatican City—the heart of the Catholic Church.”
I nod, remembering our discussions about the rise of Christianity. It’s still hard to fathom how much the world changed while I slept. The old gods are no longer worshiped. Except, perhaps, Fortuna. She still holds a special place in my heart. This new Christian god must be mighty indeed to have defeated Jupiter and his brothers in battle.
We continue our climb, reaching the top slightly winded but excited. The church at the summit is beautiful, its face covered with detailed carvings and statues.
After descending the steps, Skye leads me to a narrow street lined with small shops. “Let’s explore.” She’s off before I have a chance to answer. I hurry behind her, wondering what caught her eye.
We enter a shop filled with strange objects. Skye calls it an antique store. My eyes widen as I take in the variety of items.
“Look at this,” I say, picking up a black disc. “What an odd plate. Is the hole in the middle to let unwanted juices leak out?”
Skye laughs softly. “That’s a vinyl record. It’s for playing music.” She excitedly pulls me over to an odd machine and puts the plate onto a spindle. “See? It goes around and the needle…” she lifts an arm on the machine and points to the shortest needle I’ve ever seen, “somehow makes music.”
When I ask how it works, she shrugs. “I know how to use this and the computer and the phone, but it’s another thing entirely to understand their mysterious workings.”
I love how Skye answers all my questions, while never making me feel stupid. Why couldn’t people have been as patient with me when I was an eight-year-old straight off the farm? Perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so stupid if someone had spent even a few moments explaining things to me.
I look around at other things that seem so modern to me yet are considered old in this time. I can’t imagine the purpose even half of them serve.
Next, we enter a clothing store. The fabrics and styles are unlike anything from my time. Skye encourages me to try on different outfits, her eyes lighting up at certain combinations.
“This one,” she says, holding up a soft white buttoned shirt and dark pants. “You’ll look amazing in this.”
After I put them on, the way she looks at me makes my heart race and my phallus twitch. Without hesitation, I buy the outfit, planning to wear it to dinner tonight.
As we leave the shop, Skye spots something that makes her squeal with delight. “Oh, Thrax! We have to try this!”
She’s pointing at two small, aqua-colored vehicles with two wheels. “Vespas,” she explains. “Want to give it a go?”
My stomach cramps as I imagine weaving in and out of the crazy traffic that seems to have no pattern, all while unprotected on that little machine. Instead of letting her know I’m scared, I protest, saying, “I’ve never driven anything before.”
“It’s okay,” she assures me. “I’ll teach you.”
After a brief lesson, we put on protective helmets and set off. The first moments are terrifying—the ground seems to move beneath me, and the other vehicles on the road appear far too close.
Skye slams on the brake and we halt in front of an angry-looking truck carrying vegetables. The driver leans out and begins rapidly shouting at us in his language. I’m about to get off and apologize to him when Skye shouts a handful of words that she was practicing this morning with the help of her phone.
“ Dov’è il bagno!” Where is the toilet?
She apologetically waves her hands as she desperately tries to get the bike back in gear.
I’m laughing so hard I barely see the man’s confused expression as we zip away and turn onto back streets that don’t have much traffic. As the wind blows in our faces, and Skye’s laughter rings in my ears, I feel a surge of excitement.
All too soon, our ride comes to an end. As I dismount on shaky legs, I can’t help but laugh. “That was… incredible,” I admit.
Skye beams at me. “See? You’re adapting to the modern world just fine.” Her pride in me makes me want to try more new things, just so I can prove I’m worthy of her affection.
We spend the rest of the morning exploring piazzas and narrow streets and stopping for gelato, which is the Italian version of ice cream like I had back at the hospital.
Lunch is at a small cafe where Skye introduces me to pizza. The explosion of flavors is better than just about anything I’ve ever tasted. The only thing that would make it better is garum, but I’ve been in modern times long enough to know not to ask for it. I understand it’s hard to obtain, even in Rome.
As we finish our meal, I reach into my pocket and insist on paying with the paper money Varro gave me. When I receive coins in change, I enjoy feeling their weight in my pocket even though the profiles on these coins aren’t familiar to me.
Back outside, I say, “Perhaps not all of your changes are good.” To punctuate my comment, I take a deep sniff at the funny smell all the vehicles produce. “But one thing is certain, food in the twenty-first century is certainly better than anything I ate in my old life.”
The afternoon passes in a whirl of sights and sounds. Skye is careful to avoid any ancient ruins. We’ve agreed to save those for tomorrow. Instead, we visit art galleries and modern buildings, each more fascinating than the last.
As evening approaches, we return to our hotel to prepare for dinner. I change into the new outfit I bought, almost desperate to see that look of desire in Skye’s eyes as I did in the clothing shop. When I emerge from the bathroom, Skye’s eyes widen—and her interest shoots straight to my phallus.
“Wow,” she breathes. “You look… awesome.”
Her reaction makes me stand a little taller, warmth spreading through my chest.
Later, Skye emerges from the bathroom in a dress that takes my breath away. “You look beautiful,” I tell her, the words a poor description of how attractive she is.
Her smile brightens her face. It could make a man feel warm even on the coldest day. “Thank you. Shall we?”
The restaurant Skye chose is elegant, with soft lighting and tables draped in white cloth. As we’re seated, I can’t help but marvel at how different this is from the dining tables I ate at in my ludi two thousand years ago.
When the waiter hands us what Skye calls “menus,” I stare at the words, feeling lost. Sensing my discomfort, Skye quietly reads the options to me, explaining unfamiliar dishes. Her thoughtfulness warms my heart.
We share bites of each other’s meals, laughing and talking as we eat. The wine Skye ordered is sweet and light, nothing like the harsh wine of my time. As the meal progresses, a warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the alcohol .
After dessert, a coffee-flavored cake Skye tells me originated in Italy, we walk through streets lit by lamps with no fire. The night air is cool and pleasant as we stroll hand in hand through the city.
Before I realize where we’re going, I hear the sound of rushing water. We round a corner, and suddenly, we’re facing the Trevi Fountain, just as Skye described it when she was researching what we should see. In the moonlight, it’s even more breathtaking than I imagined.
“It lifts the heart,” I breathe, unable to take my eyes off the spectacle.
Skye nods, squeezing my hand. “It does transport you, right? Oh, look!” She points to people tossing coins into the fountain. “Want to make a wish?”
“Why are they throwing away money?” I’m puzzled.
Skye pulls out her phone, quickly looking something up. “Oh, this is interesting. There’s a legend about the fountain. If you throw one coin, you’ll return to Rome. Two coins mean you’ll fall in love with an attractive Italian.”
She wiggles her eyebrows in a manner she might think is arousing, but is actually silly and very cute.
“And three coins…” She pauses, looking up at me with a soft smile. “Three coins mean you’ll marry the person you met.”
My heart races as I remember the coins in my pocket that I switched to these trousers when I changed clothes. Looking into Skye’s eyes, I make a firm decision. I pull out three coins, turn my back to the fountain, and toss them over my shoulder one by one.
When I turn back, Skye’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Thrax?” She tips her head, her expression looking as though she has a dozen questions, though all she said was that one single word .
Taking her hands in mine, I gather my courage. “Skye, I… I love you. I didn’t know what that word even meant before. But now… now I do. This passion that lives in my heart, the way I don’t feel fully alive when you’re not around, the admiration I have for your intellect which is equal to,” my voice lowers as I scan from the top of her head to her feet, “my desire for your body… You’ve given me a voice, a new life, a new world. You’ve shown me kindness and patience I never knew existed. You make me want to be a better man, to be worthy of the affection I see in your eyes.”
For a moment, she’s silent, and I fear I’ve said too much. But then her smile blooms, brighter than the moon above us. “Oh, Thrax.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “I love you, too. So much. You’ve opened my eyes to the wonders of the world, made me see everything anew. Your strength, your courage, your gentle heart—they amaze me every day. I never knew I could feel this way about anyone.”
She leans in, and I meet her halfway. Our kiss is soft at first, then deepens, filled with all the love and passion we feel for each other. The world around us fades away—the rush of the fountain, the chatter of tourists who might be talking about us for all I care, the bustling city—until there’s nothing but Skye and me, wrapped in each other’s embrace.
My arms tighten around her, though I’m always afraid I’ll break her; she seems so fragile in my arms. Perhaps what she calls her “word vomit” is contagious, because my mind is whirling with all the things I want to say to her.
I want to tell her I’ve counted the freckles on her cheeks, that I always take care to lick the tiny scar on her bottom lip when we kiss, that when she sleeps, I like to twine one of her curls around my thick finger, then watch it spring back to life, as though pulled by some unseen force.
I want to tell her I’ve dreamed of a future together, though I don’t know where I’ll be in a few months. I may not know what this Missouri looks like, but I can see us together there, as we figure out what to do with our lives. Will I ever gather the courage to tell her I’ve pictured what type of children we could create together? Little girls with curls that shine in the sun, just like hers?
I don’t say a thing, though. I’m too busy delving into her mouth with my tongue, trying not to grunt with pleasure like the savage I am when I’m with her. My hands roam her back, following every curve and dip of her lush figure. All the feelings rolling through me are puzzling, as though I’ve spiraled into the heavens for a moment.
When I return to earth, we finally part, and I rest my forehead against hers. “I never want this moment to end.”
Skye’s laugh is soft, joyous. “It doesn’t have to. This is just the beginning, Thrax. We have our whole lives ahead of us.”
This makes me wonder, has she imagined the future, too? Could she have pictured a son who takes after his father? Of course, he’d be much more handsome than I could hope to be.
We stand by the fountain, holding each other close as the moon climbs higher in the sky. The water sparkles like diamonds, catching the light and throwing it back in dazzling patterns. It feels magical, as if the very air around us is charged with possibility.
“Tell me again,” Skye says softly, her eyes locked on mine. “Tell me you love me.” She looks younger, almost childlike with the raw need to hear me say the simplest words with the most complicated meaning.
“I love you,” I say, the words coming easily now. “I love you more than I ever thought possible. You are my heart, my home, my everything.”
She rises on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “And I love you, Thrax. With all that I am, with all that I’ll ever be. You’re my miracle, my love out of time.”
We stay by the fountain for what feels like hours, talking softly, exchanging kisses, simply basking in each other’s presence. The night air grows cooler, but I barely notice, warmed by Skye’s love and the joy bubbling in my chest .
As we finally turn to leave, I cast one last glance at the fountain. The legend Skye mentioned echoes in my mind—three coins for marriage. Slaves never married. It just… wasn’t done. I never considered it, never hoped for it. But now, the future stretches out before us, full of uncertainty but also brimming with promise.
“You know, Thrax, the last hour has been the most romantic of my life. As a girl, I used to dream of a pale imitation of this because I couldn’t imagine anything as sweet as what we just shared.” She steps close, shuts her eyes, and sniffs, as though she’s inhaling the most primitive part of me. “I want your love, yes. But right now, I want your body. In every way. We were waiting until it was the perfect time. I think this is it.”