So everything is a matter of choice?
Almost everything.
Have you ever been hopelessly in love?
I looked up and tried to remember when she’d given that interview. Was it before or after our visit to Kryfó? I couldn’t be sure so I went back to reading, anxious to read her reply.
What’s important is to see, to examine the lives of the main characters of the film. Their stories are the reason we are here on this island, not mine.
I smiled. A master class on how to handle press gracefully and protect your privacy, a lesson I would strive to learn. And another indication of how seriously Anita took her work, how she remained professional at all times; except with me, of course. Maybe this was an interview she had given before anything happened between us after all. I decided to go with that option; it suited me better.
I must have had a very curious expression on my face, for it certainly aroused the curiosity of the old man who was sitting nearby, staring once again. Still smiling to myself, I read on.
A Greek actor, Dimitri Voudouris, is the male lead in this film, even though he’s inexperienced. This is his first film part and you are a very experienced actress, but reports say it’s working out very well. What is that like?
Dimitri is a very good actor and a pleasure to work with. He is very professional; I don’t see him as ‘inexperienced’ as you say. On the contrary, I feel like I am working with a talented and seasoned actor.
Could you ever fall in love with someone you work with?
Well, never say never, but probably not. At least, that has never happened so far.
So she must have given this interview a while ago.
Could you ever pretend to be in love with a co-star, to generate more publicity for a film, to help promote it?
I don’t think I can pretend in anything that has to do with real life. I have strived very hard to keep my personal and professional lives separate. Although sometimes it is hard, I think I have managed it.
What do you think of Greece now that you’re here?
I must confess that I’ve been impressed, not just by how beautiful it is but by the Greeks themselves. Now that I am getting to know the people, working with them, I find that I feel comfortable with the lifestyle, with people’s attitudes.
I guess you’ll be visiting more often from now on?
That’s certain. Unfortunately, it doesn’t just depend on me. But I love the place more and more with each passing day and I would like to come back again soon.
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I looked at the photos accompanying the interview, especially the one of the two of us. I felt that they were also pieces of the puzzle of my relationship to Anita, that they added to what I already knew about her and made me admire and want her even more.
The sitting area was getting hot and stuffy. I needed to get some air, to feel the sea breeze. I left my rucksack on the armchair, folded the newspaper neatly, and placed it on the table. Walking past the bar, I saw the young bartender sitting on a low chair and playing a game on his cell phone.
“Could you keep an eye on my things, please? I’m stepping outside for a bit.”
“Yes, of course, don’t worry about it. Keeping an eye on everything in here,” he said without looking up from the screen. I laughed and stepped outside nonetheless.
The engine made the small deck shake as the ferry groaned and heaved, leaving behind a white trail of foam. Passengers were lying down on the white benches, surrounded by bags and suitcases. Others had pulled up plastic chairs close to the railings and sat gazing out to sea. The sky was clear and you could see far into the distance. To my left, I could just make out a blurry mountainous outline that I guessed must be my mother’s homeland. It did not seem that far, but the ‘Titanic’ was a slow boat.
I rubbed my hands together to scrape off the salt from the banister and pulled up a plastic chair. I sat down, stretched my legs on the railings, and looked out toward the island.
The slight tinge of fear I had felt whenever my mother spoke of her homeland returned and once again I wondered what would happen if I revealed who I was once I got there. The only rational explanation I could come up with was that my mother’s family must have become embroiled in some local feud, a vendetta with another family that was not ready to be forgotten. Despite this being the 21st century, there were places in remote parts of Greece where the culture of vendetta persisted and even young people had lost their lives to it. How someone could hurt an innocent soul to extract vengeance for something in the past, an injury someone else had inflicted, was beyond me.
The more I thought about it, the more I was inclined to follow my mother’s advice. After all, what ties did I really have to this place beyond an obligation to carry out my uncle’s dying wish? Moreover, the desire to be with Anita, to spend as much time as possible with her, was becoming all-consuming and pushing my curiosity about my family’s history and its secrets to the background. Were it not for my uncle’s ashes, I probably wouldn’t be sacrificing precious moments with her to visit the island at all. A love affair of a few days and my life was already changing.
I felt a hand tap my shoulder and a newspaper was thrust in my face. “Freshest news on the boat. Coffee-stained by the captain himself, but still readable,” the young bartender said, sneering as he mentioned the captain’s name.
That boy would have made a great comedian, I thought as I picked up the paper and thanked him.
“I’m Thanasis,” he said and I shook his hand.
Not only was the newspaper well and truly stained, it was one of those gossipy papers that carried a lot of allegations and very little news. Buried in one of the pages was a small, gossipy article that made me catch my breath. LOVED IN TIME. ANITA HERTZ- DIMITRIS VOUDOURIS. Beneath the headline, a blurry picture of the both of us, kissing. Blurry, yet clear enough to make out who it was. I read on.
Exclusive pictures from the island. According to our sources, the two leads are not only LOST IN TIME on their island location, but also LOST IN LOVE with each other. This photo confirms all the local gossip. The film is due to open in Athens at Christmas, and we wish all the best to the new couple.
It was clear someone had taken this picture on their cell phone and sent it to the paper. I also wondered for a moment whether that someone worked for production, keen to gain any publicity to promote the film. We had been very careful when we were out and about, and I could not remember any locals being around on the night the photo was taken. We’d been alone and had had the small winding streets of the island’s town to ourselves. Or so we thought.
My phone vibrated and I shifted in my chair trying to extract it from my back pocket. A text from Anita: “I miss you…”
I stared at the screen. Had she read my thoughts? At that moment I wanted to turn back, jump off the ship and swim back to her, just to see her even for a moment. I quickly typed, “I miss you too. I wish you were here with me,” and pressed send. I could have said so much more, wanted to say so much more. But I knew she was working, and I didn’t want to distract her.
My eyes flickered between the screen and the sea, but then I saw the old man who had been staring at me in the living room struggling to untangle a plastic chair from a stack of chairs beside me. Without thinking, I shoved the phone back in my pocket and went over to help him.
“Need a hand?” I asked, already pulling one chair up while holding the others down. The top chair finally came free and I straightened it and beckoned him to sit down.
“Thank you, young man.”
“You’re welcome,” I said as I returned to my place. He kept on staring at me in the same way. I wondered once again whether I had seen him before, whether this was someone I had already met. I smiled awkwardly and he returned the smile, the puzzled frown of a man trying to figure something out still on his face.
“Is this your first time on the island?” I heard him ask. I felt my guard go up straight away. Was this someone who kne
w who I was? Or was I being paranoid, a result of my mother’s ceaseless warnings? I felt defensive and decided to reply with a small white lie. “I’ve been here once before with my parents when I was young. I don’t remember much, though.”
He didn’t seem surprised by my answer. Maybe I was worrying without reason.
“It hasn’t changed much, my boy, in all these years. Are you here on business or holiday? I heard Thanasis downstairs say you are an actor.”
Maybe that’s why he’d been staring at me. Maybe he was trying to figure out if he’d seen me on TV or something like that. “I’m filming on another island and I thought I’d visit yours for a couple of days. I heard it’s a beautiful place.”
“Beautiful and secluded, but we like it that way.”
I couldn’t figure out whether he was saying that they liked the peace and quiet or disliked visitors. I decided to go with the first option. “That’s what I’m looking for. A couple of days of rest so I can get back to work,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“That, we can provide,” he laughed.
His smile was open and sincere and I felt a bit ashamed of my suspicions. The poor man was just being friendly, trying to thank me for getting his chair or bored and wanting a bit of company. “I’m Thomas,” he introduced himself.
“Dimitri,” I said and got up to shake his hand. His palm was warm and rough, calloused.
My phone vibrated. I apologized and looked at the screen; another message from Anita. “Are you there yet?” I figured she must be on a break and decided to call her. I dialed Anita and apologized to Thomas at the same time, saying I had to make this call. I picked up the newspaper while I waited for the phone to ring and moved back into the seating area where I would have more quiet and privacy. The phone still wasn’t ringing by the time I went in. I took a closer look at the screen and realized there was no signal. I tried again, but nothing was happening.
“No signal here, my friend,” Thanasis informed me.
I tried to hide my disappointment. “When do we get to the island, Thanasis?”
“In about an hour, at most,” he replied, taking up his post behind the bar once again. “Buy you a coffee?”
“No thanks, I think I’ll take a nap until we get there. Here is your paper, and thank you.”
“You can keep it if you like.”
I opened the paper, found the story about Anita and myself, and pulled that page out. “Only bit worth keeping,” I winked at him and made my way to a couch.
I tried calling Anita once more, but to no avail. Putting the phone back into my rucksack, I felt the cold metal of the box containing Uncle Nikos’ ashes. The last thing I saw before I drifted off to sleep was the face of Thomas, back at his table, looking at me.
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Michaela and Rina paced outside Eleni’s room, anxiety etched on their faces. Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde was softly playing in the background, one of Eleni’s favorite operas, underscoring the melancholy mood that filled the apartment. Raindrops on the window panes provided a steady, rhythmic accompaniment to the women’s soft footsteps.
The creaking sound of a door halted the pacing to and fro and the two anxious faces turned expectantly toward the ailing woman’s bedroom. A man in his fifties emerged, tidying a stethoscope in a black medical bag. Before he even spoke, his somber expression announced that the news wasn’t going to be good. Snapping his medical bag shut, the doctor turned to Michaela. “Her condition is more or less the same as yesterday. Stable, but I don’t think she’ll improve.”
Michaela froze for a moment, as if she had been hoping to hear something different, then looked at Rina and tilted her head toward the bedroom. Rina swiftly returned to her post by Eleni’s side, leaving Michaela and the doctor alone. “What do you mean, exactly?” Michaela asked.
“It is hard to be more specific. It’s all up to her now. It would be good if you can see what her wishes are in her lucid moments. She mentioned Anita and that she wishes to see her. Is that possible?”
“I haven’t told Anita about her grandmother worsening. I guess I should let her know, although it won’t be easy for her to get away.”
“Would you like for me to arrange a hospital stay?”
“No. She wishes to stay here until the end.”
The doctor moved toward the front door. “That’s fine. If you need me, at any time, be sure to call me.”
Michaela accompanied the doctor to the door. Closing it behind him, she leaned against the frame trying to gather her thoughts. She thought she had prepared herself for this eventuality, but now that the end was near she felt unable to cope with the prospect of losing her mother. She wished Anita was in Berlin, someone to lean on. But Anita would not be back for another month. Should she ask her to fly back, if only for a day? She took a deep breath and entered her mother’s room.
Rina sat in the armchair close to the bed, holding Eleni’s feeble hand. Michaela tiptoed to the other side and gently stroked her mother’s forehead. Eleni did not respond. She lay still, her eyes closed, her breathing so shallow Michaela had difficulty telling whether her chest was moving at all. She often used to get up during the night, just to check her mother was still breathing. This past week, she had moved into her mother’s bedroom to be near her and give Rina some much-needed rest.
Michaela put her hand under the covers, searching for her mother’s right hand. She felt something hard entwined between her mother’s fingers. Pulling back the bedclothes she saw that Eleni was clasping the pocket watch that used to stand on the dressing table. Michaela gently tried to prise the watch from her mother’s grasp but it was not easy. Eleni, seemingly fast asleep, tightened her grip, as if she did not want to let go.
Patiently, Michaela lifted Eleni’s fingers one by one and pulled the watch free. Just as she was about to lift the watch cover, she heard Eleni’s weak voice. The old woman was looking at her. “Anita…you are back. Are you back?”
Michaela moved her face closer to her mother. “No Mamá. It’s me, Michaela. I’m here with Rina. Do you want something?”
“Where is Anita? I need to see her. Call her…” Eleni said, forming her words with great difficulty.
“She is abroad. Filming. She will be back soon. What do you want me to tell her when she calls?”
Eleni lay still for a few moments, exhausted by the effort. She closed her eyes and whispered hoarsely, “She mustn’t go…they’ll catch him…don’t go.”
She then seemed to calm down, her breathing becoming softer and slowly she drifted off once again.
Michaela stroked her mother’s hair with one hand and held the watch in the other. She was trying to make sense of what Eleni had been saying. This was not the first time she was incoherent. She looked at the watch and wondered when Eleni had got hold of it. Obviously, while both women were outside with the doctor, otherwise he would have seen it when he examined her.
The watch’s cover looked dented, as if it had been hit. She opened the lid and saw that the glass on the watch face was dull and cracked. She could just about make out the time, frozen still: three fifteen. As she examined the watch she noticed that a photo had been attached to the metal lid, its edges curled where the photo had come unstuck. It was the portrait of a young man, partly obscured by a dark stain. She brought the watch to the bedside lamp; it was a long-haired man laughing at something or someone in the distance, a gun slung over his shoulder.
The man was a complete stranger. Why was her mother so attached to this old watch, the photo of this man? Eleni had been a student in Italy before the outbreak of the war, had met Michaela’s father at university and returned with him to Germany. Her grandfather was then sent to the front, survived the battlefield, but perished in Berlin, in the spring of 1945, in the Soviet bombing that wiped out his entire family. His young widow was pregnant with their only child at the time, a lone woman in Berlin. Michaela was born in autumn, when the war was over.
Eleni was not one to speak
of the past. She had no relatives, no family pictures. It was as if her life story always began just before she got married. She never spoke of her childhood. She never spoke of Greece.
So who was the young man in the photo? Certainly not Eleni’s father; the photo was too recent for that. Looking closely, she guessed it must have been taken some time in the late 1930s, early ‘40s.
Michaela carefully removed the photo from the watch cover. The inside of the lid was engraved: E+M. And in a line below, in Greek: Forever. Together. Michaela stared at the watch for a long moment, as if looking at it would somehow solve this mystery. She came back to the present when Rina got up to wet Eleni’s lips with a moist towel.
Anita. That’s what she had to focus on now, what to do about Anita. Anita had the right to know how her grandmother was doing and then she could decide whether she needed to return to Berlin or not. Not today though, Michaela decided, wishing to put off the conversation for a little bit longer. The following morning would be better, when they would have more time to talk.
She slowly walked to the dresser and replaced the watch in its case, the unknown man’s photo now safely tucked under the watch cover. She patted Rina’s shoulder in silent thanks and went to the kitchen.
Rummaging around the fridge, her mind was still on the photo. Those words! Forever. Together. It was clearly a love message. From M to E? Who was M? E had to stand for Eleni, but M? Maybe this was someone she’d met before her father; or after. Would her mother ever be able and willing to answer these questions? Or was this a secret that she would carry with her, another mystery from the reticent old woman’s past?
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Cave of Silence Page 5
