Rome

 Here is the exquisite layering of history. 

Gods and Kings and Republics and Emperors. 

The bones of engineering marvels and civilizations. Picked clean.  

Pagan stones pilfered to line the coffers of churches. 

Papal states and their taxes and indulgences and peter pences. Loved ones bailed out of purgatory. Wealth to build and maintain empires 

Cobblestones. balast for the ships.

I feel the lives that came before me. Like voices in a house next door. Talking, laughing, chairs scraping against tile, a gentle knocking against the wall. 

And I feel the haunting of my own history. The times I came to Rome. 

The first time I came to Rome, I chewed gum and rode a double-decker bus in the rain, so excited to see everything, and sure I would never have the chance again. Then the exhilarating beauty of the Sistine. Then awestruck at Saint Peter's basilica - and the strange prayer I blurted aloud in the quiet chapel, and hurrying away in embarrassment. And later wondering if there was some actual protection in that prayer because, only hours later, I was nearly raped by the Vatican guard who offered me a ride and I, trapped and young and alone, miraculously maneuvered my way to safety. And afterwards, felt I had not been alone. 

My next holiday in Rome was after I met you. After we fell in love.

After you told me that you would ask to marry me on the Spanish Steps, and then later said we would not see each other again, because you didn't know how to get out. And I loved you and was so desperate not to lose you - and also terrified of those hidden men who had fucked with our phones, who had snatched you away, and told you things about me you should not have known. And then, when you left Naples, and I had cried and you, comforting me, said that I should come to Rome, and stand in the place where you once stood. At a triumphal arch - near the Forum. And that it would mean we were together, separated only by time. And so, I came, and I stood in that place, my heart aching with pain and longing and love. And I went to the Spanish Steps, and remembered your promise, and cried. And that night, I woke at 3AM from a dead sleep, because I heard your voice calling to me. And it was so real, and so painful. Later, you told me that you had been calling to me in the snowy woods of Doorn that night. Of course, I never know what was true. But it seemed true. And I believe that I heard you. 

 You'd decided to disobey. You'd said, "I'm breaking every rule I've ever known." And I ended my relationship with my boyfriend because I couldn't lie to myself. Because I loved you. 

But you had lied to me, and I would learn this. And my next trip to Rome would be after my world collapsed. 

You came to me, traveling on a passport that was not yours. And you told me your other secret: you were married. And hearing this, my knees buckled and I fell to the floor. And then I retreated to my room, knowing it was over. And you said, "Wait for me. Please. It isn't real. It's a business arrangement. I'll make this right."  And I didn't understand how a marriage could be a business arrangement, because I wanted nothing more than to be married to you. And then you missed your flight, because I think you were worried about what would happen if you left me in that state. And so we drove my Nissan Micra to Rome, and you booked another flight, then ate in a restaurant by the forum, and you took a photo. In it, you are exuberant with relief, and I am in hell.  

My next visit to Rome was in the months after you had vanished. Mom and me in the Sistine Chapel and Saint Peter's. And me, so depressed, I almost stepped into the sea. 

There were other trips, I'm sure. Other visits with Eve and Tim, with my brother and his wife. But the trip I remember next was the time I came to find a lawyer. Someone who could help protect me against your clandestine brothers. Because I was fighting to free you, and I worried what they would do to me. I visited two different lawyers. The first was in a fancy office near Piazza de Popolo. They said they weren’t right for that sort of thing. The second lawyer recognized the threat and had me break apart my phone.  And I gave him my records for his safe, and we set up a process: if something happened to me, he would pass my evidence to the police and prosecutors. They would know who to charge. 

Then I was here with dad. The days after your men carried a lie about me to the US Embassy in Rome. And my contract was cancelled in the minutes before I was scheduled to get dad from the airport. And we took our holiday anyways. And I was so distracted, I couldn't focus. Or remember much. And dad had his cell phone taken from his pocket on the Metro, and that was its own emergency.

My next time in Rome was months later - in the days after your lie made its way to my employer, and they wanted it to go away. Wanted me to go away. And after months of "deliberations", they smiled sweetly and said, “everyone has such good things to say about you,” and I didn’t smile back while I said, “that’s because I’m a damned good analyst.” And in order to keep my job, they had a paper for me to sign – a lie that made me claim responsibility for the things your men had done. And I refused to sign on to it. I already had a trip planned for my sister and nieces here in Italy, so I followed through anyway. And the day I got on the plane was the I lost my career, my ability to work in the field where I was an expert. And while I walked through the forum with my nieces, I felt the weight of this. And this time, I had not been able to escape rape. So, I buried the unbearable truths of what had happened. And kept trying to survive. 

I love this city, but it haunts me. You are here. It is all here with me. 

And my story is so enormous to me. It is my life. Your love and your betrayal changed everything. And amidst these ancient ruins, I feel the jutting outlines of my own wreckage.