“We move on,” said Massimiliano, seemingly relieved.
On their way to the exit, their tour guide stopped by a display case of ceramic pots. “Do you want to hear what it was like for them, the ones who did not flee in time?” he asked. His voice was eager—it was clear he wanted to perform. When no one responded, Massimiliano pointed to a stone figure among the pots. “You see it is a human,” he said.
“Where?” said Charlotte, narrowing her eyes. “Oh,” she said, making out the mummified figure, knees to chest, head down. If you didn’t look closely, you wouldn’t see the man. You would think he was a vase.
“Fuckety fuck,” said Cord.
“Language, Cord,” said Charlotte wearily.
“When the sky went dark,” said Massimiliano, warming to his topic, “you would have grabbed your valuables from your house. And your children. And your wife. You tried to get out, toward the sea, where you hoped a boat would save you. But the dark—and earthquakes—would make it hard to find your way. Buildings began to collapse. Frightened, you decide to stay still. You hope it will be over, and the sun will rise again.”
Clearly, Massimiliano had had theatrical training. He projected his voice over the crowds. They were spellbound, the heat of the day forgotten.
“You crouch down and pull your children close to you. You pray to God and you wait. Like this man, you see?” Massimiliano pointed to the figure.
Charlotte felt tears behind her eyes.
“But then the massive pyroclastic surge came at dawn,” said Massimiliano darkly. “You are made into the fetal shape as you die. Your cadaver spasms so you are like a baby again. And the rain comes, turning the pyroclastic flow into cement, which preserves your body as so.”
There was a moment of hushed reverence. Regan pressed herself to her mother’s side. Lee moved close to Regan. Cord encircled them all in his arms. The Perkins family stared at the form of a man who had been dead for two thousand years. It was hot. Charlotte could smell underarms. Life was so precious and so short.
CHARLOTTE WOKE EARLY. HERsheets were warm and smelled faintly of detergent. She lay still for a moment, just savoring. It was finally starting to happen, thought Charlotte. Her children were coming back to her. She wasneededagain—by Regan especially, but also by Cord and Lee. It felt so good to be asked for help! Her purpose on earth, she was beginning to understand, was taking care of her kids, now and always.
Still, and to be honest, she felt a twinge of regret that she wasn’t going to have another romance of her own. Someone just for Charlotte, who loved her to her bones. Who would think she was beautiful even though she was old, hold her tight if she was afraid. Someone who would counter the dark march toward death with the hot flash of sex, an explosion of limbs intertwined. Charlotte wanted to wake and find a pot of hot coffee ready—a morning when she could just take a mug from the cabinet and pour.
Minnie had insisted the idea of a “one true love” was a falsehood created by smutty writers trying to sell books and men scheming to keep women vacuuming quietly instead of changing the world. It wasn’t that Minnie was alesbian(though who knew?) but that she was pragmatic. After her husband died, Minnie was done with romantic love.
“Once you give up on finding Mr. Right,” she’d implored Charlotte, on one of their daily walks around the lagoons, “you can find yourself. Inside.” (Here she struck her rib cage with a fist. Beside them, a crepe myrtle bloomed.) “Do you know what I mean?”
“Sure, I guess,” Charlotte said. “But I can’t help what Iwant,can I?”
In Minnie’s view, of course you could.
How ironic, thought Charlotte, that Minnie didn’t live to see Charlotte accept her dour pronouncement. “Okay,” she said now. “I give up. It’s time, Min. I’ve got the kids, and that’s a lot. I’ve got Father Thomas to talk to. You’re right.” She could almost see Minnie in her aqua golf visor, nodding with a self-satisfied expression.
Charlotte rose and parted her curtains. It was too dark to see much as they approached the port. Taking in the gray, blocky buildings, Charlotte felt sorry for the inhabitants of Civitavecchia, overrun each day by tourists who (like the Perkins family) would trample through on their way to glittering Rome.
She pulled the curtains firmly closed and made a concerted effort to focus on happiness. Was that the feeling inside her rib cage? It was a skittery excitement, like drinking too much coffee before heading downstairs on Christmas morning. Maybe her children would move back in with her! That was probably pushing it, but watching the nightly news with Cord and Lee as Regan prepared cheese and crackers…well, that was a lovely image.
Charlotte showered, ran a brush through her hair. It was only when she looked in the mirror that she realized she was singing aloud. She’d thought the song—Tony Bennett’s “Song of the Jet Set”—was inside her head.
“Shining Rio, there you lie,” crooned Charlotte. “City of sun, of sea, and sky!”
CORD HAD BEEN DREAMINGabout sleeping in a bathtub made of velvet when his phone rang. He sat up, completely disoriented, the weird urine-perfume smell of his cruise ship cabin bringing him back to reality. His brain was fogged with pills and bourbon. His phone buzzed again. They must have been close enough to shore to pick up a signal. “Hello?” he said.
“It’s me,” said Giovanni.
“Hi, you,” said Cord. He got out of bed in his underwear and stepped onto his balcony, where he could see faraway twinkling lights against a dark expanse of sea. “What time is it?” he said, taking a deep breath, tasting salt and ocean water.
“Listen, Cord, this is important,” said Gio.
“I’m listening,” said Cord. He marveled at his utter lack of panic, his bloodstream full of depressants silencing the lonely voice for the moment. Oh, it was going to come back, and with a vengeance. But for now, Cord enjoyed the blessed quiet.
“Did you tell your mom about me? Does your family know?” said Gio. His voice was breathless, excited.
“Yes, of course,” Cord lied without hesitation. God, it was easy to lie! He’d forgotten how simple life could be. The engine of the ship thrummed beneath him like a snoring animal.
“Did you sayyes?” said Giovanni.
