Cairo

Chapter 19: The Rain That Washes Away

Air was the first thing Cairo tried to get as he shot up from a dead sleep, gasping like a fish out of water. He clenched the thin material of his shirt that was over his chest in his fist, breathing in and out, in and out. The gasps were so loud that Cairo glanced to where Cane lay asleep in hopes he didn't wake him. His vision was cut off when Aerie crawled over to him. She bent her legs on the ice cold material between their sleeping bags, running her hand delicately up and down Cairo's bag above where is leg was. When she inquired about what was wrong, Cairo shook his head like she had all been imagining it, but the drops of sweat that poured off his forehead caught his lie. He wiped a part of his forehead with his hand, taking a second to look at his clammy fingers. Wiping the rest of his sweat with his arm, Cairo leaned forward and moved along on his hands and knees to the tent opening. Aerie followed him like a shadow as he muttered something about fresh air.

The night air hit him like a cold shower. His eyes snapped wide open the moment the first icy breeze stung his cheeks. He rubbed his arms, looking around like a lost child as he debated where to go. There was a throbbing still present in his head that made everywhere seem confining, an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia ripping through the shreds of sanity in his mind. An open field was the safest option, Cairo decided when the few trees started to feel like they were moving in on him. His eyes never left the ground as he continued down the open path, his conscious so absorbed with keeping his mind from wandering all over. Nothing good ever came  to him from brooding over something he couldn't change. In the end, all it did was waste time and impair judgements.  

A hint of yellow caught Cairo's eyes as he neared the edge of the cliff. He watched the almost glowing blond hair float lightly in the breeze, moving like it was trying to put on a performance for an audience. There was something hypnotic about it, something familiar. Then Cairo remembered where he'd seen that hair before, those broad shoulders that looked like they carried as many burdens as he did.

"Houri."

Her eyes looked pale as she turned her head to look at Cario. They weren't the brilliant brown that sparkled with life and enthusiasm as they had before. They were so much more and so much less under the hints of moonlight that escaped through cracks in the clouds. She looked back past the edge of the cliff, high into the sky, as she stood up.

"The sky is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Well." Cairo raised his finger to the sky. "If you look really closely, you can see the contamination. The country is better for stargazing, but the sight here isn't all that bad. It's breathtaking in it's own kind of way."

Houri curled the corners of her lips. "I forgot you grew up in the country. You seem like a spoiled city boy to me."

"Perhaps," Cairo said. "You're not too far off. We moved when I was young." Silence filled the gap between them as Cairo treated the short distance that separated them. "I only have a few memories of the time we lived in the country. They're so few and far between, it's hard for me to say it even happened. I remember the stars, though. My father would swoop me in his large arms and carry me around outside while we gazed at the sky before bed. There were millions of stars, like in the pictures. Even the sky was a different color than this. It was clear and pure. Once you see a sight like that, it's hard not to compare it."

"It sounds lovely," Houri said, her gaze never leaving the sky. "I can't not attest to the fact that the night sky is beautiful, but I've always prefered cloudy, rainy days myself. There's something in the bleak drizzle that fascinates me."

Cairo raised an eyebrow at her. "Why?"

"Look at the world, Cairo." She shook her head, clasping her hands together in her lap. "There's so many things wrong with this world. It's destructive and disgusting. But the rain is different. No matter matter how many times the rain is recycled from the messes here, it comes back still as untainted as it was before. We can only hope it rains and rains and rains and washes away the sins—the mistakes, the heartache—from this land and lets us start over again."