No Forgiveness

by Helen Nickolson

  Katerina felt so warm and happy that Ophelia wanted to spend time with her and agreed quickly to go to the festival. Their mother’s warning vacated her mind immediately, and the two sisters left around 7:00 PM on the warm August night. As they briskly walked along anticipating the evening, or sometimes just sauntered like the teenagers they were, Katerina thought wistfully that perhaps she and her sister had entered into another, better stage of caring. She wanted her sister’s companionship so much and hoped their future would be friendlier. Even when a sigh of the warning penetrated her thoughts, she brushed it aside.

  They had both dressed to the best of their wardrobes and giggled together thinking of the young men who would be there. They had carefully coiffed their hair and put on just a tiny bit of rouge on their cheeks and lips. They knew they couldn’t flirt too much since they would be talked about, but they also knew that you don’t have to speak to flirt. A dance done gracefully is more flirtatious than sweet words spoken and Katerina in particular was well aware of that. She could barely contain her excitement thinking that Michael would most likely be there—it was after all his village that they were going to. They would probably dance the sirto, the most common line dance throughout Greece, and she could touch him by holding his hand as the line dance circled the floor; there was nothing inappropriate about that since they had to hold hands for this dance and definitely nothing that anyone could gossip about.

  The sisters walked up the sloped narrow dirt road toward Ano Kourouni, the sister village to Kato Kourouni which was called “Ano” because it was located at a higher location. Sometimes they jumped into a song and sometimes they just chatted about their dreams. Katerina was just naturally excited and felt especially high-spirited. Ophelia seemed more nervous than excited, but knowing that her sister tended to be a worry wart, Katerina didn’t pay much attention.

  The Greek countryside, unlike some of the Cycladic stark islands, was opulent in this part of the country and it was such a pleasure to smell the mountain tea plants growing along the road. The evening air held such promise of romance and mystery. The sisters talked of love, of marriage, of children. Being thoroughly inexperienced, they couldn’t talk of kissing or sex or anything physical to do with a man. Actually, Katerina couldn’t help but think of what it might feel like to kiss Michael. What a handsome man, she thought. He was so dark and tall with a physique and muscles that showed the hours he spent working in the fields, and she blushed at the thought of him lying in bed next to her naked. She thought about the beautiful children they could make together and how much she would love them. She had no clue that Ophelia was thinking of the same man and blushing at the same thoughts. She had also heard the rumors that he wanted to marry her sister, and she was going to do everything she could to stop it.

  Halfway to their destination, Katerina realized that the route they were taking was not the regular way to Ano Kourouni. She had been talking and daydreaming too much and hadn’t been paying any attention to the direction they were taking. “Ophelia,” she said, “Why are we going through these fields? Don’t you remember the way? You know, all we’re going to do is ruin our shoes and that would be a shame since we only have one good pair each. We’ve walked to Ano Kourouni so many times that we should know the road in our sleep. Maybe I distracted us too much with my silly conversation.”

  “Oh, Katerina, this is just a shortcut. I know where we’re going. Come on, you’ve been this way before and it’s so much shorter than the regular road. With this shortcut, we’ll have even more energy to dance all night. Really, I’m surprised that you don’t remember the way through these fields.”

  “Okay, although I really don’t remember having gone this way before. But, you know me. I often don’t look where I’m going.”

  She had expected a chuckle from Ophelia, but instead Ophelia suddenly stopped, leaned forward from her waist and said how tired and thirsty she had become. She did look awfully pale and unsteady. Of course, becoming lightheaded and needing water made sense on a warm August evening, but when Ophelia suggested that they stop at the vacant, rundown house by the road to see if the well still worked, Katerina had a strange foreboding and didn’t want to stop there at all.

  “You know,” she said to Ophelia, “that house has been empty since the Marakou family left for America and that well is probably dry. Let’s just go on a bit more slowly and we can get some fresh water when we reach the festival. We’ve been walking for quite a while and can’t be more than ten minutes away from Ano Kourouni. Besides, there are probably snakes or scorpions around that well, and I’m so terrified of those ugly creatures.”

  “I should have known that would be your response” was Ophelia’s retort. “You’ve been so pleasant today that I thought you had changed, but I can see that you’re as selfish as always. All I’m asking is for an additional five minutes to get some water because I’m so thirsty, but all you can think of is that people will admire your dancing and you want to show off as much and for as long as possible. Your own sister’s feelings and health don’t concern you. Well, maybe I’ll just stop by myself and you can continue without me.”

  Oh, what shame Katerina felt—especially since she knew that there was some truth to the comment! She did indeed love to dance and was vain enough to enjoy the compliments people always gave her. She was anxious to get to the festival and hear the music. But she should have been thinking of her sister. Yes, Ophelia was right. She had spoken out of selfishness, and was mortified that she could be so self-centered. People were right in saying she was spoiled and had been favored by both her mother and father. With this sorrow in her heart, all she could do was to hang her head and apologize to Ophelia. Of course, the only right thing to do was to stop.

  They carefully walked to the crumbling well side-stepping potholes and looking for snakes and scorpions, and as they stood by the side of the well against the chipped stone, Katerina suddenly felt two strong, muscular arms grab her from behind. Shock waves went through her body and fear overcame all other emotions. No one had the right to grab her in this manner; she was a young woman who deserved respect; this is not how men treated her. This must be a vagrant travelling through the area who had the temerity to act insolently.

  She wanted to scream but no sound came out of her throat. She froze and looked for help to Ophelia. However, Ophelia’s face had hardened and the look in her eyes had nothing of compassion in it; instead, the look was gloating and sly. A look that said there’s nothing for you in my heart, and I’m finally going to make sure that you get what you deserve. A look that said your dreams will become fairytales, and my fairytales will turn into dreams and reality. Ophelia turned and ran and left Katerina without a word.

  “No! No, Ophelia! Don’t leave me like this!” Katerina screamed. “I am your sister and I love you. Don’t desert me like this. Please.”

  The iron arms pulled her unresponsive, semi-frozen body into the little house and the man spoke: “So you’ve thought you’re too good for me, huh? You have your sights set on that idiot Michael and think you can insult me by ignoring me. You bitch! Your life after tonight will be changed forever and, whether you marry me or not, no one else will want to touch you. They will know that you’re a whore and that you came to me willingly. Your sister will attest to that and more. Just see what Michael will say to you if you go to him for help. No matter how much you beg, he will no longer want you.”

  She then knew that it was Giorgo who gripped her and knew that she would be screaming and crying for mercy before he finished with her. What she didn’t know was that the pain would be so great that she would pass out before she could really beg. Thank God, she didn’t know what to expect. The rape was thorough and brutal the first time and every time after that. She stopped counting and believing there was no way that he could continue much longer because she had been wrong more than once.

  More than once she beseeched God, the Virgin Mary, and the saints, “Please have him finish soon, soon, soon,” and the
n mercifully passed out. The very last time that she passed out, he couldn’t revive her and finally left. She heard later that he had gone to the festival and danced for hours. He had danced with Ophelia leading the syrto line dance while Katerina lay in a heap on the cement floor of the old shack.

  When she finally came to, she was shuddering and in shock, hurting everywhere but feeling nothing. She could only sense that he was no longer there, but she knew that he might return--no, that he would definitely return. She positively had to get out of the house and labored to put her limbs into motion, meanwhile making a stab with her torn clothes at wiping his filthy semen and smell off her.

  Water and a cloth. She needed to find that. She needed to get the stains off her and go home to her own bed. To her own bed where she might find sanity again. Yes, yes, she felt the cloth in the dark and found a little water in a nearby jug to scrape gently at her vagina, anus, and legs.

  This was the ultimate in betrayal. Not even an enemy would have led her into this trap. How could a sister? No cloth could scrape away the wound inside her heart and soul; no salve could soften the sharp jaggedness there. But she would survive. If, at the worst, she was forced to marry him, she would find a manner of revenge. If she didn’t have to marry him, she would still find a manner of revenge. Katerina made her cross and prayed to God to forgive her for whatever she might do. She prayed forgiveness for being willing to go to hell if necessary. After all, she had already experienced hell and hadn’t been lucky enough to have simply died.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Whimpering and mostly naked, she half crawled, half stumbled her way back home. She found a long stick along the way and used it to steady her balance since the countryside was rocky and potholes were common. She fell a couple of times and used the stick for support to stand again. The morning dew helped her keep her consciousness. The smell of mountain tea was still in the air, but she no longer felt any pleasure in the scent. Tears trickled slowly down her face, but she wasn’t even aware of them. Katerina knew that she needed the safety of her own house, her bed, and the loving touch of her mother. Her mother would have come in last night and would be worrying about her, pacing around the house and sensing that Ophelia had carried out some devilish plan.

  “Mama, I’m on my way home. I’m hurt but I’ll make it. Oh Mama, send me some strength,” she cried to herself. “You were so right and I didn’t listen to you, so I know I deserve to be punished. But Mama, it shouldn’t be like this. Please, please forgive me. You’re the only one who will still love me after I’ve dishonored the family in such a terrible way. I just didn’t know or expect anything this bad to happen to me. I love you Mama.”

  Finally, she saw the blurry outline of the stone, unassuming house her father had built and reached the steep cement stairs that went to the second floor; from relief at finally having arrived, it looked like a heavenly palace to her. The first floor, which had a cobbled courtyard, was somewhat of a stable or barn where they kept the donkey, two goats, and one lamb. More goats and some sheep would have been welcome if they could have afforded to buy and also feed them. They couldn’t. They had always just managed to scrape by, but after Katerina’s father died, life had become more difficult. She heard the animals move around but couldn’t make any of the friendly sounds or words that she normally had for them. Her lips were as battered as her body and her throat was raspy and sore from all the screams that had forced themselves through it earlier.

  The house was typical of the poor, village houses of the time period: whitewashed stone, sharp narrow steps without a guard to help someone climb up or down, a dangerously small porch at the top that one could easily slip of, animals at ground level, and a couple of rooms upstairs. It was nothing fancy, but they were proud of it since Katerina’s father had built it himself, and it had survived several light earthquakes, which were common to all of Greece. They were simple people who didn’t require much and were thankful for good health, especially since her father had died of pneumonia. They prayed for good health and thanked God for watching over them. They had no running water or electricity or an indoor bathroom, but they were thankful for the few things they had and let God know every day.

  On hands, knees, and raw, outstretched arms, she navigated her body by clinging to the steps all the way up to the main little porch at the top, and then she barely managed to stand and open the door. The door squeaked slightly but enough to let her mother know that she was home. Her mother, obviously worried, ran toward her to make sure that she was okay but then jumped back clasping her hands over her heart in fright. “My eyes, my sweetheart, what happened to you? Did you fall down a cliff and hurt yourself or did someone do this to you? You have blood and bruises on you. Your clothes are torn and you look so frantic. What happen-ed? Ophelia told me that you were going to go to the festival with her, but, instead, you disappeared, and she gave up waiting for you. You should never have gone by yourself. We can trust our neighbors in the village, but you never know who else might be out there and do you harm.”

  “Mama, please help me to clean up and I will tell you a very different story from Ophelia’s. You were right about her but I didn’t listen to you. Like an idiot, I trusted her. Please help me. I feel so weak and hurt so much. Oh Mama, I don’t understand how she could have helped Giorgo do this to me.”

  Silently grieving to see her child in such pain, her mother gathered water and old towels. She found some salve in a chest that held herbs and medicinal supplies, and then, very slowly, helped Katerina to undress. As she took Katerina’s torn dress off her, she could tell what had happened and tears welled up in her eyes. Her sobs racked her body and she trembled at what she saw. Her beautiful, naive child had been molested, and all she could offer to soothe her daughter was love, soft kisses, a little bit of broth, bread, and water. She kept murmuring to herself, “If I could only take the pain from her.” She wanted to pull the pain out of Katerina’s body and swallow it herself, but knew that pain couldn’t be transferred to her regardless of her wishes. Bitterly and with great remorse, she recognized that Ophelia had played a pivotal role in this sad event and wished she’d never had that first daughter who could so jealously inflict sorrow on her sister. She wanted to curse Ophelia and damn her to hell but her strong religious beliefs held her back. God would not approve of such words.

  The next afternoon the three of them talked. Katerina had awakened close to noon after sleeping poorly on her little cot, and her body ached everywhere despite the salve that her mother had swabbed so liberally over her entire frame. It was very difficult, if not almost impossible, for her to have Ophelia sit across the table and to hear her deny her culpability. She finally saw her sister for the evil person she had always been and wanted no further association with her. She was no longer the child who had always tried to humor and coax Ophelia into kindness. She no longer cared.

  Ophelia made it obvious that she felt no responsibility, no guilt and blamed Katerina for leading Giorgo, and, according to her, other men, on with her dancing and her mischievous, teasing looks. She stated her opinion coldly and without hesitation: “How can you expect men to not feel invited or excited if you dance like that?” she questioned. “You’ve had no shame in your behavior. They believe that you’re welcoming them to share much more than a look when you strut in front of the kafenio and actually talk to them. The kafenio is a male haven for coffee or drinks and any woman who goes by on a regular basis is obviously inviting the wrong attention. I refuse to take the blame for your behavior Katerina! You needed to be taught a lesson and I’m glad that you were.”

  Nevertheless, the basic truth of the betrayal could not be repudiated, and their mother decided that Ophelia would be sent to a cousin in a nearby town for an undetermined length of time. Until she left, Ophelia vehemently refuted that she had had any role in leading her sister to Giorgo, even though she felt some shame when she saw how ravaged Katerina looked; she might have felt enough remorse to not again look at Katerina after that fir
st long and stunned stare at her bruised body and face. What had obviously happened was not exactly what she had expected, at least not at the level of crudeness and the callousness of Giorgo’s attack. Being just as sexually innocent as Katerina, Ophelia had not envisioned this ghastly outcome. She had thought that Giorgo was in love with Katerina and wanted to express his romantic feelings. She had also thought that Giorgo might charm Katerina into sexual intercourse, but she had never expected what was obviously repeated and punishing rape. In any case, she insisted to herself that she wasn’t responsible since Giorgo had told her that he merely wanted to talk to Katerina alone.

  Weeks passed and Katerina’s bruises slowly healed. She didn’t miss Ophelia at all and was comfortable being alone with her mother. Her white skin returned to its even, delicate creamy white color. Her green eyes became clear, and her black hair regained its shiny sheen. She was without doubt again a striking beauty: tall, long-limbed, rounded with lovely curves, and a straight, elegant posture.

  She still had nightmares but slept with her mother and was calmed by her whenever she woke up trembling or screaming. She hadn’t left the house the entire time, so no one had seen her to ask questions about her appearance. Her mother, Kyria Maria, simply said that she had had a little injury and had to stay indoors. No company was allowed to see her because she apparently had a slight fever or a little of this and a little of that. People knew something terribly wrong had taken place, but they had enough respect for the widow and her dead husband to not burden her with many questions.