Out of the Blue

by Belinda Jones

Are you still a member of the Greek resistance? she asks me.

  I think all his physical urges have just been sated by a Chinese beach masseur, I tap back as I wave the man with the demon fingers on his way.

  As soon as I send it, I realise it sounds a little dodgy but I’m too hungry to send an explanation. I need to finish packing up and then get some delicious vine-leaf-clad snacks down me.

  ‘Aleko, are you ready to go?’

  There’s no reply from between the windsurf sails. Surely he can’t have dropped off? I creep in and kneel beside him in the dusky light. He has indeed. I do enjoy watching him while he’s sleeping. I’m just thinking of Selene, her drowsy lover Endymion and the moon-ray kisses she sent to his lips when he stirs suddenly.

  It takes him a second to realise where he is and then he croaks, ‘What do you say to a quick gyro and an early night?’

  ‘If by gyro you mean kebab . . .’ I begin.

  ‘I do,’ he confirms.

  I beam from ear to ear.

  He looks surprised. ‘I finally said the right thing, didn’t I?’

  I nod approvingly. ‘Yes you did!’

  12

  ‘Live today, forget the cares of the past.’ – Epicurus

  This couldn’t be any more of a contrast to dining out with Jules – we have as much fun getting ready as we do going out. Look at me now, not only am I salt-encrusted and smudged of eye but the tips of my tangled tendrils are coated in pungent massage oil. And yet nobody seems to mind. Least of all Alekos. On the ship, in his uniform, he looked like the type who’d insist upon high-heeled arm candy. I never would have predicted this laissez-faire side to his nature. Or mine for that matter.

  We pass several candlelit fine-dining establishments on the way to Andreas, where I’m relieved to find paper tablecloths, plastic chairs and sport on the TV. I recognise the owner as probably the friendliest of Alekos’ pals from our first night. He’s also the man with the fanciest chip cutter in town. I get chatting to the chef while Alekos is talking Andreas through our order and before I know it I’m washing my hands, donning an apron and pushing a peeled potato through a razor-sharp gadget.

  ‘This is such fun!’ I rave, wondering if Shirley Valentine had the benefit of one of these wondrous machines behind the scenes at Costas’ taverna in Mykonos.

  ‘Mind your fingers!’ Alekos cautions when he realises what I’m up to.

  ‘Can I do another?’ I request excitably.

  ‘Of course.’ The chef smiles.

  ‘Turn to me as you pull the lever!’ Alekos instructs as he positions his camera phone.

  Of all the ways to be immortalised – in a pinny prepping his dinner! And yet in this context it doesn’t seem such a bad thing.

  ‘You’re so lovable.’ He beams, helping me down from the step.

  My little housewife heart skips a beat – he’s called me pretty and lovable in one day, it’s a wonder I’m still vertical.

  As he shows me to our table I find myself smiling at everyone and everyone smiles back. They all seem friendlier than on that first night. But then maybe I’m sending out different vibes now I’m starting to relax and get the lie of the land.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ Alekos enquires.

  I see Andreas is serving him a beer so I decide to have the same local brew – Mythos!

  ‘Yamas!’ Alekos grins. ‘That’s Greek for cheers.’

  We chink glasses, including Andreas, who is pulling up a chair to join us. ‘So where did you two meet?’ he wants to know.

  ‘On the cruiseship,’ I say simply, sticking my fork into the plate of coleslaw he’s brought for us to share.

  ‘I remember the first time I saw her.’ Alekos takes a more leisurely approach. ‘I was getting my orientation tour and as we approached the Shore Excursions desk I could hear this lady ranting, red in the face, about the lack of penguins on her glacier trek. Selena was completely unfazed, calmly explaining that she too had once muddled Alaska with Antarctica but seeing as this lady was clearly such an animal-lover, she would be happy to arrange a visit for her to the zoo in Anchorage – all without any sarcasm.’

  Andreas gives me a respectful nod.

  ‘And then, instead of rolling her eyes when the lady left, she simply moved on to her next client, coming out from behind the counter to save this old man from getting up from the sofa. But as soon as she was within reach he scooped her up in his arms and waltzed her around the office. She was laughing so freely. So sweetly,’ he sighs. ‘I remember standing there, looking at the way the sun glinted off his bald spot, and I thought, I want to be him – I want to be seventy years old and still holding that woman in my arms.’

  I may have taken a bite but I haven’t managed to chew it yet. I wasn’t expecting such tender detail. His account really reminded me of someone. But who? And then it hits me – he sounded exactly like the subjects from my love videos.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Andreas nods along. ‘So how long have you been together now?’

  Alekos looks to me to explain, presumably since I’m the one holding out.

  ‘Actually, we’re not an item,’ I say, hopping up to grab some paper napkins from the side table.

  ‘You mean you’ve never . . . ?’ Andreas looks searchingly at Alekos.

  ‘Never!’ Alekos confirms, in his most mournful voice. ‘She’s coming round to me though, aren’t you?’ He gives his lap a playful tap and reaches for my hand.

  Oh no. I’m not putting on a cutsie show for the boys. Maybe later when we’re alone.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I resist, returning to my own seat.

  ‘Why not?’ he asks, wide-eyed.

  ‘You know why not,’ I say, eyes flitting to Andreas.

  He shakes his head and adopts his most imperious tone as he demands: ‘How can you refuse a Greek god?’

  I am aware that a couple of his waiter pals are now in earshot as I carefully announce, ‘You, of all people, should know the fate of mortals who sleep with gods.’

  He raises a curious brow. His pals shuffle closer, eager to hear what the Brit will say next.

  ‘Go on,’ he encourages.

  ‘Well, look at poor Semele,’ I begin. ‘Zapped by lightning when Zeus revealed himself to her. The once-pretty Medusa gets it on with Poseidon, next thing you know she’s a hideous serpent-haired Gorgon.’ I’ve read this section earlier today so I’m good to go. ‘And what about Leucothoe – she has an affair with Helios, the sun god, her dad finds out and he is so peeved he buries her alive! Not exactly what you’d call happy endings.’

  Andreas chuckles and slaps the palm of the waiter delivering our platters before looking expectantly to Alekos for a comeback.

  He shakes his head at me. ‘You have become too educated.’

  I’m about to tuck in when I notice Alekos has raised a finger: ‘You do of course realise that all the best offspring come from a god–mortal alliance.’

  ‘Oh really?’ I say, setting down my gyro to give him a ‘convince me!’ look.

  ‘Well, Hercules for one, probably the greatest Greek hero.’

  This illicits much appreciative murmuring. ‘Yes. It’s true.’

  ‘And?’ I challenge him to give me more examples.

  He pulls a face. ‘Perseus, Pegasus, Dionysus . . .’

  ‘Ah yes, where would we be without the god of wine and revelry?’ I say, encouraging everyone to raise their glasses.

  ‘Well, for one thing he wouldn’t have been around to father Priapus,’ he replies.

  This evokes much tittering. Unfortunately I know just why.

  ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ I despair. ‘You can bring every subject back to—’

  ‘Yes?’ Now everyone is on tenterhooks.

  ‘You know,’ I mutter and lunge at my gyro, naturally causing it to spill forth streamers of lettuce and meat shavings.

  ‘You still can’t even say it!’ he hoots, stamping the ground.

  ‘I’m eating!’ I protest, trying to squi
sh an overhanging tomato into my mouth. ‘Besides, you say it enough for both of us.’

  ‘So what do you know of Priapus?’ He sits back in his chair, refusing to let the subject drop.

  ‘Priapus?’ I feign innocence as I take a slurp of beer. ‘Wasn’t he the son of Dionysus and Aphrodite?’

  ‘Yeess. What else do you know of him?’ He leers closer.

  ‘He was no oil painting,’ I say, fixing him with a significant look, though these words could never apply to Alekos.

  ‘And . . .’

  ‘Oh, for god’s sake!’ I exclaim, banging the tabletop a little too hard.

  ‘Just say it!’ he rallies.

  ‘He had unfeasibly large genitals!’ I throw my hands up in despair.

  All the non-mythologically savvy diners in the place switch round to look at me, including one woman who consequently pushes her plate of meatballs aside.

  ‘Happy now?’ I hiss, mortified as Andreas rushes to find her an alternative dish.

  Alekos nods delighted, topping up my glass of Mythos before pondering out loud: ‘I wonder what our children would be like?’

  I can’t help but wince at the thought of a two-year-old Alekos terrorising me with creatures from the deep, freaking me out with his daredevil tendencies and refusing ever ever ever to wear clothes. ‘Uncontrollable. Incorrigible. Borderline feral,’ I decide.

  ‘And what about if the child took after me?’

  I can’t help but laugh, now sending beer froth flying across the table. (What is up with my table manners tonight?) Once again, just at the point where I’m about to scream, Alekos has me giggling.

  He takes another sip of Mythos and then says, oh-so-gently, ‘I think you’d make a very good mother; you’re very caring.’ His tone is so cashmere soft, I’m thrown. I don’t even know what I’ve done to make him think I’m caring.

  ‘Well . . .’ I’m lost for words. Even though motherhood isn’t something I have ever particularly aspired to, it still seems like one of the greatest compliments you could be paid.

  ‘Ready to go?’ he asks, summoning the bill and paying for the whole thing with a ten-euro note.

  Back at the love shack Alekos tells me he’s got to quickly run something over to his father so it falls to me to feed Loulou the leftover gyro meat. ‘Is it because of you that he thinks I’m caring?’ I ask the straggly head I’m so very besotted with. ‘Doesn’t he realise I could never be this sweet to a human being? At least not while they’re awake . . .’

  She makes a sympathetic whine and then backs into me for a cuddle. I sigh as I give her a good rub down. I’d like to be. I’d like to be able to wrap myself around a man like this, to rest my head on his shoulder and let go. But that is going to require trust. Of course there are trustworthy men out there but I have to be realistic – I’ve never attracted any of them before.

  Alekos returns, looks at me and Loulou and then helps himself to a glass of water. ‘Want one?’

  I nod.

  He comes over and hands me my glass, continuing to hold on even though I have it in my grasp. ‘Earlier, when I said I was a god, I wasn’t implying that I had higher status to you.’

  My mouth twists in a smirk. ‘So you’re saying I’m a goddess?’

  ‘Not far off,’ he chuckles. ‘I really am grateful for all that you’re doing here.’

  Oh. That’s not quite the tone I was hoping to elicit.

  ‘See you in the morning.’

  ‘You’re going to bed?’ I blurt as he turns to retreat.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now?’

  He cocks his head. ‘I thought you wanted an early night.’

  ‘Well, yes but . . .’ My eyes flick to the clock on the kitchen wall. Just two hours until my birthday. And then I look back at him – the poor guy is swaying he’s so exhausted: up late with his father last night, up early with me this morning, hectic day on the beach. Not that he’d ever admit to any form of weakness – I know he’d stay up and keep me company if I asked him to but that would just be cruel on my part. Besides, when we do finally collide, I want us both to be fully present, and fully functioning . . .

  ‘You’re right. Goodnight!’ I chirrup and then turn away.

  Even though I know it’s the right thing to do, I can no longer look at him and not want him – desire overrides logic. I sit down at the table and find an old song weaving its way into my consciousness . . . ‘I’ve Grown Accustomed to His Face’. But it’s not just his face. I’m getting accustomed to his ways, his company, even to his culture. I haven’t felt this sense of contentment and belonging in years. I know this is dangerous and potentially disturbing to my equilibrium, but I’m ready now, to take the ultimate step towards him. I can’t believe that the next time I see him—

  ‘Oh!’ I gasp as he reappears.

  ‘Forgot my water,’ he explains, nodding to the glass beside the sink.

  ‘Oh! Oh, yes.’ I jump up and hand it to him. This time it’s me leaving my fingers lingering after he has it in his grasp.

  ‘Everything alright?’ he enquires.

  ‘Just wanted to be sure you had a firm grip,’ I say, finally releasing it.

  As he stumbles off towards his room, he waves the back of his fingers at me, muttering, ‘Filakia!’

  ‘What’s filakia?’ I call after him, wondering if he’s just dismissed me with the Greek equivalent of ‘Whatever!’

  ‘Kisses,’ he sighs as he disappears behind the curtain.

  At which point my knees actually give way.

  13

  ‘Be as you wish to seem.’ – Socrates

  Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear moon goddess, happy birthday to me! I wake up with a tingle of anticipation for the day ahead. I went to bed auditioning assorted scenarios for our first kiss – beneath the Cretan arch here in the love shack? At the end of the jetty at the beach? After a tongue-tingling shot of raki in Plaka? But then I realised I can’t schedule it like I’m putting together a tour package – ‘After visiting the local archaeological museum there will be half an hour allotted for kissing.’ I’m going to have to go with the flow. It’s time I made some changes.

  To mark my intention that this year will be different from all others, I decide to make breakfast. Yes, me. In the kitchen. Chopping, whisking, toasting and imbuing every fresh item with superpowers from Alekos’ magic card . . .

  Well, yesterday he went out of his way to take me to Zeus’ cave. Today I want to do something nice for him.

  A couple of times I try texting Jules for guidance but there’s no reply and ultimately I’m glad I’m forced to work things out for myself. Who knew there could be so much satisfaction in fanning out nectarine slices or squeezing an orange till it’s naught but pith? No doubt it’s the novelty factor but, for now, I couldn’t think of a nicer way to start the day.

  I’m about to set everything out on the kitchen table when I get a better idea and begin transporting the wares up the stairs and out on to the roof terrace. I find a bright yellow tablecloth, dress the plastic chairs with cushions from my room, and even set a little glass of flowers as the centrepiece, between the Greek yoghurt and the sliced banana. I’m heading down for the honey we got from the roadside stall when Alekos appears all tousled and yawny.

  ‘Hungry?’ I enquire enticingly.

  ‘Mmmm,’ he says, paw on his bare tummy.

  ‘Follow me . . .’ I say, licking my honey-dipped finger and heading for the stairs.

  ‘Selena!’ He looks quite taken aback.

  ‘No, not in that way!’ I tut as I continue on my way. ‘Just follow me, you’ll see!’

  ‘You did all this?’ he exclaims as he surveys the breakfast banquet.

  ‘Yes!’ I beam. From the way my chest is plumping up you’d think I was the beekeeper and yoghurt-strainer to boot.

  ‘And you’re going to sit down and join me?’

  ‘Of course!’ I trill.

  We both take a seat and tuck in.
As do several wasps.

  ‘Don’t bother them,’ he says as I try to switch them away. ‘And they won’t bother you.’

  ‘But that one is stuck in the yoghurt!’ I protest.

  Alekos reaches in the bowl and daintily plucks it by its wing and flings it on its way. Just like that!

  But the real fly in the ointment, so to speak, is my sudden attack of first-date nerves. It’s a terrible thing when you realise how much you like someone. Suddenly I feel all self-conscious and vulnerable and all last night’s cheeky banter is gone. I don’t quite know how to behave with him now that I am open to the thing I’ve been resisting since we met. Can he tell? I wonder. Does he know?

  I try to sneak an assessing peek but only conclude that he gets more handsome by the day. I daren’t look at him for too long for fear of looking too blatantly dreamy and malleable.

  ‘How’s your hand today?’ I ask, defaulting to polite small talk.

  ‘Getting better, I think,’ he says as he reaches for the butter. ‘I have a doctor’s appointment today at eleven a.m. so hopefully he can give me an update.’

  ‘Good.’ I take a sip of tea. ‘So you slept alright?’

  He nods. ‘All the way through.’

  ‘Good, good.’ I contemplate the view, the balmy breeze and the flawless blue sky. ‘Lovely day today . . .’

  He looks askance at me as he takes a bite of toast. ‘Are you okay?

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

  We sit there for nearly an hour. I love how unrushed he is. This has the potential to be my most leisurely and enjoyable breakfast of all time. Shame I can’t actually eat anything I’ve prepared – my stomach is in too much of a twirl.

  I feel a little more relaxed at the beach now Ben is buzzing around us, but not a lot. I suspect I’m not really going to get anywhere until the evening when I can summon a little Greek courage with a Mythos or two, so for now I concentrate on boarding the latest kayak renters. Once they’re on their way I venture a little deeper into the water, up to my waist now. Perhaps later I’ll have a swim, to mark that this is indeed the first day of the rest of my life.

  ‘Selena!’ Alekos is trying to get my attention from the shore. ‘Your phone!’