Hesitantly, I turned back, and he guided me over.
He explained, excitedly, knowledgeably, but I didn’t understand. Something to do with breathing. Something about the air and the dust. I didn’t really grasp what he tried to explain.
But Cyrus spoke with so much passion. The way his eyes lit up… The gestures he made with his hands. The excitement he declared at the possibility of helping so many people.
“It’s amazing, Cyrus,” I said, even if I didn’t understand it.
He smiled, and it was so beautiful. “So many less will die because of this,” he said. “If only people will give me a chance. People will live longer because of this.”
There. It flickers into his eyes. A darkness.
“Who have you lost?” I asked, stepping slightly closer to him.
His eyes slid away from mine. A muscle in his jaw tightened. “My parents,” he said. “They both died of illness four years ago. They left me alone.”
I reached forward, but stopped myself before touching his arm. “I’m so sorry,” I offered.
He looked down, to where my hand fell at my side once more. And as he reached forward, gently taking it himself, my heart fluttered.
“My days are generally filled with darkness and grief,” he said. “But since that day I met you in the market, they have been a little brighter, Sevan.”
My name.
Cyrus said it, and I felt it. It would never sound quite the same again.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day,” he said quietly. His eyes rose from our hands to my eyes.
I can’t think of anything else, I thought to myself. But the words stayed trapped there, scared, in my mouth.
“May I see you again, Sevan?” he asked softly. “Soon?”
“Yes,” I answered him in a breath.
* * *
I laid there, my eyes staring at the ceiling. The bed underneath me was soft, I was warm and comfortable, but I did not sleep. I counted the knots in the wood above my head. I listened to the sounds of my parents preparing for bed. For an hour after they lay down, I stayed still and quiet.
When they both breathed heavy and deep, I silently climbed out of the bed. Without making a sound, I crept to the door. I glanced back, seeing that they both still slept, and I slipped outside.
The air was still warm. The street was dimly lit by a half moon, and I navigated my way without any difficulty. Down the road. Turning at the grove of olive trees. And then toward the field.
A lone figure stood in the center of the field. His back was turned toward me, he stared off, toward the one lone tree that stood toward the back end of the field.
My heart fluttered as I watched him. A smile curled on my lips and I just stood there for a moment, observing him.
The line of his shoulders. The assurance in his stance. How intent he was, even when just looking over a field.
He looked over his shoulder then, and even through the moonlight; I could still see his eyes.
A smile pulled on my lips. One mirrored on his own face.
The wheat rustled around my dress as I stepped forward. Cyrus watched me the entire time as I came to him, his eyes never once left me.
“I’m glad you came,” he said as I stopped in front of him.
I felt my face flush. But I didn’t look away.
He took a step closer, lessening the distance between us. Gently, he reached out and took my hand. He just held it for a long moment, brushing his thumb over my knuckles, looking at it.
“It was difficult to get anything accomplished today,” he confessed. “When all I could think about was you.”
He looked up then, those eyes grabbing me. I saw such honesty in them. He’s laid himself bare and open before me, for me to ravage him as I want.
“My grandmother spoke of love and obsession before she died,” I said. “We don’t know hardly anything about one another. But I…” I hesitated, because I wasn’t sure how to put into words what I was feeling. “The way I feel when I think of you. How am I supposed to know the difference? How am I supposed to know what this is?”
He studied my face, and for the first time, I saw uncertainty there. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “The two don’t feel very different right now. But I don’t think it’s the way it should be. I hardly know you, Sevan. But I feel this…pull. But I won’t lie.” He shook his head. “Obsession can feel a lot the same way.”
A sad smile crossed my lips. I took a step away, holding his hand, in the direction of the tree. Slowly, I guided us on a walk.
“Then tell me,” I said, “about your family. About where you came from, Cyrus.”
In the moonlight, Cyrus looked infinite. He looked supernatural. Like something from a far away star.
He looked like someone who would change the rest of my life.
“I came from a family of star worshipers and mud healers,” he said. And I tried to interpret his tone. There’s a connection in his voice. This is his history, those were his family. But there’s also doubt. Maybe a hint of shame. “We always lived on the outskirts of the city, where no one would throw rocks at us or curse our name.” He looked out at the horizon. “Only a certain kind of people came to see my parents. Those who wished to know their fortune, to ask the stars what the future held for them. And those who did not believe a priest could heal them. Those that trusted the dirt of the earth and the herbs of the bush to heal them.”
“Was it true?” I asked, my brows furrowed at the story. “Did they heal people? Did the stars speak to them?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. But I also believe in the power of the mind. How many of those people only felt they were healed because they wanted to believe my parents had special abilities? How many made their fates come to pass because they thought it was written in the stars?” He shook his head. “I think there was a little bit of both.”
Goosebumps flashed across my skin, causing all the little hairs on my arms to rise. It’s incredible. Whether or not any of it was true, it’s fascinating.
“I always wanted to become a physician, to study the human body,” Cyrus continued. “But because of my family’s reputation, no one would take me on as an apprentice. No one would take a chance on me that I was different from my parents. So I have been learning on my own. Studying, researching. It’s slow. But despite my family, I will become a physician.”
“You said they died four years ago,” I recall.
His eyes cast about, not truly searching for anything. “They both grew ill just as I came of age. They worked and worked on one another. But all the mud in the world, all the herbs they could drink, did not stop whatever ravaged their bodies from within.”
He takes a deep breath, and I can see the conflict he feels about his family. “I buried them behind our home. And I never looked at the stars the same again. I never trusted the earth again.”
I looked over at him, seeing the pain and betrayal in his face. “But what if some of it was true, Cyrus? Surely it wasn’t all for show?”
He met my gaze. “None of it is quantitative, Sevan. None of it can be proven.”
I sighed, but my eyes rose to the stars. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ve always believed that there is so much more in this world than we will ever understand. I don’t believe anything is black and white, or that there is only one side to anything. But I do believe there are lines. Lines that must not be crossed.”
“And how do we know when we have arrived at those lines?” Cyrus asked.
We reached the tree, and underneath the huge boughs, we stopped.
I looked into Cyrus’ face. He searched mine, begging for the answer to his question.
“I think that is when we have to rely on our own instinct,” I said. I took half a step closer toward him. “That is when we have to know right from wrong. I think there’s something inside each of us that whispers that truth.”
My heart jumped into my throat as Cyrus raised his other hand and brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Mine tells me this, Sevan. That you are inherently good. That you are meant for a life that is so much more than the one fate put you into.”