Persephone poured herself a tumbler of elderflower gin to help herself get through the ride home.
The train chugged away from the lush bayous and picturesque plantations which surrounded New Orleans towards a barren, ugly landscape of mines and factories: long, boxy buildings with smoke stacks, and rickety mine shafts shrouded in soot and smog. Persephone had to close the window to keep out of the filthy air which stank of machine exhaust.
The inside of the first class car reminded her of a coffin: dark wood paneling and tables, royal purple velvet curtains and cushions, and brass fittings.
Persephone regretted closing the window because the train car had become stuffy and uncomfortably warm. When they had left New Orleans, the weather had been pleasantly cool and crisp but as they chugged closer to Hadestown, it seemed to get hotter and hotter; much too hot for this time of year. She pulled a black lace fan out of her purse to cool herself off with.
"Why the hell is it so hot?" she groaned, the black lace fan fluttering back and forth.
Across the table, her husband picked up the crystal decanter with the black chevron design and poured elderflower gin into one of the matching tumblers.
"It's all the foundries," he answered, blowing a puff of smoke from his cigar, "We need a constant supply of steel to build oil drums and automobiles, so the foundries keep things warm all year long. I thought you liked warm weather, darling?"
The puffs of smoke from his cigar seemed to take the form of automobiles which drove around Persephone's head. She waved them away with her fan.
"It ain't right and it ain't natural."
It had started to get dark when the train left New Orleans but as they approached Hadestown, it became bright again.
It can't be morning already, Persephone thought.
The buildings of Hadestown were lit up with electric and neon lights. Persephone had to shield her eyes when she looked out of the window.
"Why is it so god damn bright out?" she growled at her husband.
"I installed a new power grid for the entire city," he replied, removing his cigar to blow another puff of smoke, "The glare is beautiful isn't it? That way the day never has to end. You like brightness, don't you, my love?"
His cigar smoke curled into the form of power lines.
"It ain't right and it ain't natural."
A huge black Rolls-Royce met them at the Hadestown train depot.
A thin, gaunt faced chauffeur opened the car door for them.
"Bonsoir Monsieur, Madame," he greeted them.
"Thank you, Jules-Albert," Hades replied.
Jules-Albert drove them through the narrow streets and alleys of Hadestown, past austere, boxy, brick and concrete buildings with garish neon signs. Their mixture of dark shadows and glaring lights was disorienting and made the ugly, utilitarian architecture seem like a bad dream.
At the edge of town was an orchard of pomegranate trees, the only things which seemed to grow in the sterile environment of Hadestown. Beyond the orchard was a large, mock-Tudor mansion made from cream colored plaster and dark brown wood that always reminded Persephone of a gingerbread house.
Hades got out of the car on his side then walked around to Persephone's side to open the door for her.
"Welcome home," he said.
Persephone groaned and rolled her eyes as they walked through the front door and were greeted by dozens of servants.
To think we were happy once, she thought, Long ago, before all of this.
The wedding of Orpheus and Eurydice took place at the beginning of October at New Orleans City Hall. Eurydice wore a ruffled white dress and a black straw hat trimmed with wax orange blossoms.
After signing the marriage certificate, bride and groom and their families went to Marie's apartment for a meal of jambalaya and red beans and rice with pralines for dessert.
Orpheus had bought the wedding ring at a second hand shop on the Friday before the wedding. During the ceremony, he dropped the ring. Marie, who had never approved of the marriage, pointed out that these were bad omens.
Both Orpheus and Eurydice had high hopes when they got married. Orpheus was hired as the guitarist for the jazz band at the club below Marie's apartment. All of New Orleans came to listen to him play and sing each night. He was exhausted during the day and did nothing but sleep. Orpheus loved this gig but it did not bring in as much money as Eurydice hoped. She had to wait tables at Hestia's all day to keep a roof over their heads and put food on the table.
"Already?" Orpheus would ask in a groggy voice when she would leave for work every morning at the crack of dawn.
"Orpheus," She would reply, "All the pretty songs you sing ain't gonna shelter us."
She could already feel the winter chill set in as she tried to figure out what they could go without to be able to afford heating. Forget about buying a new winter coat; she would make do with patching up her old one.
She was tired and irritable all that autumn and into the winter trying to make sure they didn't freeze and starve.
When she returned late at night from work, Orpheus had left for his job. When Orpheus was around, she was either asleep or in a bad mood, so he keep out of her way.
Every night when she went to bed alone, she would break down and cry herself to sleep.