April Eighteenth, Nineteen Hundred & Six

April Eighteenth
Carol St. Ann

Cora Mae Harper sat up and shook her new husband. "Wake-up, Jess. My birthday is here."

He stirred. "G'morning," he said, in a sleepy rasp. "What are you doing up before the sun?"

"It's not that early. I'm ready for my presents."

He felt the tabletop until he grasped his pocket watch and squinted. "It's just barely 5 o'clock. Hush now. Go back to sleep for a while."

"I'm not a bit sleepy. And I don't want to miss a minute of my birthday. Come on, get up."

"Oh, all right." He smiled and kissed her forehead and then hopped out of the bed, his black wavy hair tangled on one side and matted on the other.

Cora Mae fluffed the blankets and beamed a smile up at him. "It's my first birthday as Mrs. Harper, so what will you give me?"

"I'll give you the world." He opened the window and swung his arm out toward the great dark void. "Starting with San Francisco out there at your feet. Geez, it's so still. Not a sound at all."

"No changing the subject, Jess Harper. Did you forget to get me a present? I've been reminding you for weeks."

"What. San Francisco isn't enough? Why, it's one of the most beautiful modern cities on the whole world."

"You have forgotten my bir--"

Jess pulled a small box out from behind his back. "I have not forgotten your birthday."

"Ooooh. Small box means big gift." She beamed a smile at him and stretched out both hands. "Give it."

Jess stepped back, just out of her reach. Cora Mae lost her balance and tumbled onto the floor in a heap.

Jess dropped the box and lunged to help her. In another minute they were cuddled on the floor, enraptured with laughter.

Cora propped herself up, huffed her hair out of her eyes, and sighed, "Can I have now?"

"Sure." Jess shot a panicked glance across the floor. "I, uh, I dropped it."

As he searched for the box, a distant rumble sent a chill up Cora Mae's spine. "Jess. What's that?"

He couldn't answer before the house shook so violently the widows broke and the chandelier above the bed crashed down right where she had been sitting. Jess grabbed her and pulled next to their night table. "Crouch here," he instructed. "I'll be right back."

Cora wasn't brave enough to stay there. She hightailed it out of there on Jess' heels, her nightgown billowing like a balloon as they ran down the stairs and tore open the front doors. "It's a big one," Jess shouted over the now deafening rumble.

"My God, it's not stopping. Can we get to the motor car?"

"No time, Cora. The city's collapsing. We've got to get out." He reached into the laundry bag hanging by the umbrella stand and threw a dress at her. "Put this on and we'll make a run for it."

She flipped it on over her nightgown, without bothering about the buttons. He grabbed some trousers and hopped into them over his pajama bottoms. She grabbed her Easter bonnet and shoes and he, a shirt and his jacket and hat. They ran out the door and down the street -- already crowded with people, horses, carriages, and the occasional motor car.

The ground beneath their feet moved like a boat being tossed about in a storm. Cora Mae saw her friend, Millie, from the Hill House sitting by the side of the roadway in tears. She was injured. Blood streamed down her arm. Cora stopped to help her and turned to ask Jess for his shirt to use as a bandage, but he was no where to be seen. As horrified as Cora was, she tended to Millie and helped her up the hill to the edge of the city.

Hours passed like minutes. She tore the hem of her dress off and used it to cover her face so she could breathe. The smoke and masonry dust filled the air. It was as though an autumn fog devoid of water had sat itself down on top of the city and refused to move. And now the stench of death added to the over powering heaviness, and the rancid air made her wretch. One by one the injured came, and she helped, working to exhaustion. Between arrivals she searched the faces of the helpers, of the injured, and of the dead - for her Jess. She couldn’t see it, but she knew the sun had moved halfway across the sky. Sometime mid morning, workers appeared, like ants building a mound, and constructed a makeshift sanitarium of tents.

Evening approached.

She dipped a discarded cloth in water and dabbed at burning eyes. Blinking gave her a moment of clear vision, and she wished it hadn't. The city, what she could see of it, was gone. The setting sun, peeked from behind great plumes of black smoke and hinted it was the end of the world. How she wanted to hide from the terror. She turned to run away but another family in desperate need of care and comforting called out for help as they stumbled toward the tent. She took them inside and gave them water and blankets and tended to their injuries. She wiped soot from her face and continued helping where she could, asking everyone if they had seen her husband. "About this tall," she'd say again and again, "black hair, blue eyes?"

But the answer was always, "No."

Hours, and still no sign of Jess. Night had fallen as Cora Mae, exhausted and fearing the worst, comforted a fireman's bereaved family. She turned to call for Father Monticello, and squinted. Could she believe her scratchy burning eyes? Jess walked through the injured masses toward her. And though he was covered in grime and mud from head to toe, she threw herself into his waiting arms, thanking God for bringing her husband back to her.

"I'm here," he said, stroking her face and pushing back her hair. He rested his head against hers, wrapped his arms around her, and whispered almost as though a prayer, "I'm right here."

“Thank God, Jess. Thank God. I’ve been praying so hard.”

Later, as they lie together in each other's arms, knowing that tomorrow San Francisco would have to be rebuilt, she shared one last thought before they surrendered to the fatigue and despair. "April eighteenth, nineteen hundred and six. I will never forget this day."

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Word Count 994
Story must mention a significant birthday in the life of the character (by date).