Moti on the Water

by Leylah Attar

  This man. His touch. His taste. His gaze.

  He watched the play of emotions across my face as his tongue blazed a wet trail along my palm. Nothing soft or chaste about his kiss now. I felt it all the way between the junction of my thighs.

  Fuck. The gloves are off. We aren’t on the boat. He’s not crew. I’m not client. Alex isn’t holding back anymore.

  It would be so easy to get swept away, to give in to the wild heat that burned for his touch.

  He tiptoed two fingers up my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps. Up, up, past my shoulders, my neck, my jaw.

  “So many thoughts.” He tapped the center of my forehead softly. “What’s going on in there?”

  “You won’t understand.”

  “You’ve decided? Without giving me a chance?”

  Our eyes appraised each other: his strong and steady, mine scanning for all the imprecise, nameless things that guide hearts.

  “Sometimes,” I said. “I think if I do the wrong thing, my mother will die.” It was a loaded confession, absurd even, but saying it out loud made it easier to breathe. Saying it made the chains around my chest loosen their hold.

  Alex tilted his head. “Explain.”

  I broke away from him and stared at the indigo sky. “You already know part of the story. The lady who interpreted my natal chart told Dolly my true love would have three thumbs. She said I’d meet him by the water, but I’d also die in the water. And if I married someone other than my true love, my mother would die within seven days.”

  Alex didn’t respond, but at least he wasn’t laughing at me. I could feel him putting together pieces of the puzzle. “That’s an awfully big responsibility to be walking around with.” He wrapped his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. We watched the lights come on, one by one, on the distant shore. “And you’ve been carrying it with you since you were born?”

  My eyes welled up with unshed emotions, but I blinked them back. The moment was too pretty to be blurred. I wanted to remember it exactly like it was. Sharp and colored. The sea. The sky. The man sitting beside me.

  Most people would’ve tried to make me see how ridiculous Ma Anga’s prediction was. Hell, I’d tried to reason myself out of it too. But Alex seemed to understand. Our fears aren’t always logical. They just are.

  “It makes sense now.” His voice rumbled through his chest, where my cheek had claimed a spot. “What your grandmother said, about your mother only allowing you to be with someone with three thumbs. Is that what’s stopping you from being with me? Is that why you’re going after Nikos? What do you want, Moti?”

  In my heart, I knew. I wanted Alex. Undeniably, irrefutably Alex. “It’s easy here. Removed from everything.” I gestured to the colors darkening outside the cavern, the villages sparkling with warm, silver lights.

  “But Nikos is the easier choice.” His fingers stroked my hair.

  I almost wished he’d try to sway me, but the truth is no one can battle your demons for you. Your doubts and fears are your own to feed or to slay.

  Being with Alex meant turning my back on Dolly. What if choosing Alex over Nikos—a summer fling over a long-ordained sign—led to more? What if a seemingly innocuous path, step by step, ended up leading to Dolly’s death?

  “See that light over there?” Alex pointed to an island in the distance, its dark outline reflected in the water. “That one’s mine. My place by the sea. Fresh fish, tomatoes as sweet as candy apples, string lights on the patio, little tables under gnarled trees.” He sat back, leaning on his hands. “Yep. Totally claiming that one.”

  “I want that one.” I pointed to a star. “It would take Dolly forever to get there.”

  We laughed, and I thought, once again, how much I liked the little groove in his cheek.

  “What I wouldn’t give to have a moment with my mother.” He looked at the sky, as if he might find her among the stars, pinned to the heavens like a sparkling memory.

  I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my chin on them. I wanted the kind of relationship with Dolly that Alex had had with his mother. I wanted to remember her with a smile after she was gone, not regret. If someone tells you they don’t care what their mother thinks of them, they’re lying—if not to you, then to themselves. Deep down, we all want to be loved by the woman who gave us life. Doesn’t matter if you’re six or sixty.

  “What was your mother’s name?” I asked.

  “Frida,” he said. “She was from Denmark. My grandfather fled there at the time of the Greek junta. My parents met in Copenhagen and returned to Greece after things settled down.”

  I was half listening, half thinking how I wanted to kiss him again. His fiery mouth, his slow, wet, coaxing tongue.

  “Alex?” He was already looking at me, so I don’t know why I said it. “Thank you.” I tucked an unruly strand of hair behind his ear. He raised a brow. That fucking brow. He was probably trying to figure out the conflicting signals—the push-pull vibes I was transmitting. “Thank you for this…” I gestured around us—a cavern in the cliffs, an enchanted sunset, an evening gift-wrapped with sparkly stars. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see your father tonight.”

  “I can still take the last ferry out,” he said. “Come with me. It’s not Santorini, but it’s beautiful in a wild, untamed way. One road, one taxi. Bare, rugged, intimate.”

  The way his voice dropped at the end sent a thousand brazen images flashing before my eyes. His weight on my body, lips crushing mine, our fingers entwined. My toes curled. I wanted it. I wanted it so badly, my cheeks flushed with the intensity of it.

  And then what? Another voice piped in. Get back on the boat and fail at the one thing that would make things right between you and Dolly?

  Nikos was the litmus test. A living, breathing, quantifiable yard-stick Dolly was measuring me by—my love, my loyalty, my worth as a daughter. It wasn’t like I never rebelled. It was my life after all. I lost my virginity to Vijay Khanna in his uncle’s motel. A creaky bed, a musty carpet, the smell of stale cigarettes. Afterward, he brought me ice from the ice machine. I’d wrapped it in a towel and held it against myself. My defiance melted into a wet rag with streaks of blood between my legs. Sex felt hollow and empty, like all my attempts at love and romance. I didn’t know exactly how my relationship with Dolly affected my relationship with men. All I knew is I needed her on board before I could be happy.

  “I should get back,” I said. “Isabelle will be looking for me.”

  Alex’s eyes searched mine, looking for reasons, motivations, the things that bent me. Then he stood and held his hand out.

  “I’ll take you back to Oia and head to the ferry from there.” He helped me up, and we gathered our things.

  The ride back should’ve been different. People on pink motorbikes should be happy. Cotton-candy happy. But Alex was quiet and I was confused. Being sad and horny is so confusing. To top it off, I was sad because I was horny. If you’ve ever said no to someone whose kisses sizzle on your lips like butter in a hot pan, because it’s the sensible thing to do, you know the feeling. You might pat yourself on the back, but you also want to bitch-slap the part of you that denied you the experience.

  I wrapped my arms around Alex and sulked the whole way to Oia.

  When he stopped outside the ice-cream shop, I un-smooshed my face from his back and got off the bike. Stray dogs, up from their daytime naps, came around to say hello. The crowds had dispersed, streaming into cafes and tavernas. I had a moment of panic as I looked around.

  “You think they’ll still be there?” I glanced at the castle.

  “Can’t hurt to check.” Alex parked the scooter, and we made our way to the spot where he last saw them. It was empty, except for a few couples lingering in the dark.

  “Oh no. They’re probably searching for me.” My phone didn’t work in Greece—at least not to call or text. If Isabelle had contacted Dolly, the whole situation would be blown way out of control by now. My shoulders drooped with the we
ight of what I’d done.

  “I should’ve never taken off like that. They’re probably worried sick, looking for me. The last thing Isabelle and Thomas need is—” I paused as I thought of Thomas. “Hey, can I use your phone?” Thomas had a local number. Alex had a local number. Greece calling Greece. Problem solved.

  I pulled up Thomas’s number from my contact list and dialed it on Alex’s phone, cringing as it rang.

  “Hello?” Thomas picked up on the first ring, no doubt in red-flag mode.

  “Thomas, it’s me. Moti.”

  “Moti. Oh my God.” He must have put his hand over the phone, because his next words were muffled, probably alerting everyone it was me. A frantic back-and-forth ensued while I clutched the phone and repeated to myself:

  You’re such a shithead, Moti.

  “Moti.” Thomas came back on the line. “I’m so sorry. We stopped for drinks and completely forgot about you. Are you still at the ice-cream shop?”

  Mother. Fucker.

  They hadn’t even noticed I was missing. Isabelle wasn’t wringing her hands. Dolly wasn’t calling the police. No one was looking for me, or waiting, or worrying. I wasn’t anywhere on their stage, although I’d given them spotlight roles on mine.

  “Everything okay?” asked Alex.

  I nodded and felt something growing inside me. “Thomas, can you put Isabelle on the line?”

  A slight pause as the phone changed hands.

  “Moti!” Isabelle sounded breathless. Music and laughter streamed through from her end. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Wait till you see the photos Fia got. I’ll have Thomas set up a slideshow tonight. There’s a theater in the villa. We can all kick back and—”

  “I’m not going to the villa tonight.” Now two things growing inside of me—two round, firm things.

  Isabelle was silent. Maybe even shocked I’d cut her off.

  “Isabelle.” I smiled into the phone. This is what growing a pair of balls felt like. I liked the sensation very much. “I need you to cover for me. I’m not going to the villa tonight. I’m going to Folegandros.”

  Alex’s head shot up. And then a slow, lazy smile that made my cheeks flush.

  “Folegandros?” Isabelle repeated. “Is that…what? A nightclub?”

  “It’s an island—not too far from here. I’ll be back before we depart tomorrow.”

  “What? No. You can’t—”

  “It’s not up for debate, Isabelle. I’m calling in those favors. I’m going to Folegandros with Alex, and I need you to cover for me.”

  “Alex? Chef Alexandros? You’re with him?”

  I could picture her making wild gestures to Thomas. “But Moti—”

  “First grade. Katy Sterling. I took a punch for you in the playground.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Third grade. Biology project. You tracked sand through the house, and I took the heat for it.”

  “I was already in trouble with—”

  “Fifth grade. Mateo Martin. I sang twenty minutes straight so Rachel Auntie wouldn’t hear you talking on the phone with him.”

  “Yeah, well. That was probably more painful for her than for you.”

  “Ninth grade. The exchange student. I guarded the chemistry lab door while you made out.”

  “He was hot, wasn’t he?”

  “Prom night. When Mrs. Arora caught you smoking weed with—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. I owe you. Big time. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Thank you.” My lips curved as Alex high-fived me. “I’ll meet you back on the boat tomorrow.” I was about to hang up when she spoke again.

  “Hey, Moti!” She waited until I brought the phone back to my ear. “Are you going to…you know? With Alex.”

  “Shut up.” I slid my eyes to him, hoping he hadn’t heard.

  “He’s yummy. Tell me you’re at least going to—”

  “Bye, Isabelle.” I hung up and returned the phone to Alex.

  “So?” He put it away and looked at me. “Folegandros?”

  The way he said it reminded me of his kiss, abuzz with promises. The night was warm, but a delicious shudder shot through me. Free. Alone. Alive. With Alex.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Folegandros.”

  We returned the motorbike Alex rented in Santorini and took the ferry to Folegandros. I expected it to be quiet, but the port was deserted—not a soul in sight.

  I looked at my watch and then at the chalkboard sign again. The bus was late. Insanely late.

  “All the schedules are in GMT.” Alex stretched out on the bench beside me.

  I tapped my watch. “I’m synced to the right time zone.”

  “GMT, meaning Greek Maybe Time,” Alex said. “The bus will get here when it gets here.”

  I tapped my foot like a thumper rabbit. When you’re used to everything running by the clock, delays irritate you.

  “Stop that. You’re breaking my nerves.” Alex quieted my foot with his.

  “Breaking your nerves? How dramatic.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a direct translation of a Greek phrase. Something doesn’t just annoy you, it breaks your nerves. We’re never just busy, we’re running without arriving. Something isn’t messy, it’s a brothel. When you’re angry with someone, you say you’re going to eat them. Ask someone about the bus right now and he’ll shrug and tell you there are flowers and bees around his dick.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means he doesn’t care. Everything is siga-siga here. Slowly, slowly. I guess you could call it a philosophy, a way of life. Live in the minute. Forget about the rest of the clock face.” He covered my watch with his hand and grinned.

  Nothing siga-siga about the way my heart quickened at his touch.

  “Alexandros!” Headlights flared in our faces as a rusty pickup truck pulled up beside us.

  Loud voices. Warm greetings. Then Alex was throwing his backpack in the bed of the truck.

  “Come on,” he said. “He’ll give us a ride to town.”

  “What? With them?” I pointed to the two roosters eyeing us from wire cages.

  “There’s a goat in the front, if you’d rather sit with him. He’s a mean one though. Yiannis just saved him from the butcher. His owner said he’s an inconsiderate, head-butting jerk.”

  Yiannis shouted something in Greek and they both laughed.

  “Yiannis says the timing is perfect,” explained Alex, as I climbed into the truck. “His mother-in-law is visiting. Nothing like a head-butting jerk and a couple of early morning alarm clocks to send her packing back to Crete.”

  The roosters pecked at Alex through the wire mesh when he settled next to them. “Okay, okay.” He inched away. “Alarm cocks. That better?” Yiannis guffawed from the front seat while the roosters appeared temporarily pacified.

  It was a bumpy ride to Chora, the main town of Folegrandros. Huddled atop a jagged cliff, its narrow lanes were closed to motor vehicles, so we said goodbye to Yiannis and his menagerie. We followed the sound of music down the alleyways until we got to the center, where it seemed the whole town was gathered. Three large squares, tables crammed into every nook and cranny. Food and wine flowed along with the buzz of conversation.

  Someone called out to Alex, but before we could make out who, another man engulfed him in a hug.

  “What’s going on?” Alex said.

  “Dimitra’s son is off to do his military service. She’s throwing a party.”

  “Pantelis? But I thought she didn’t want him to go.”

  “She doesn’t, but you know how it is. This is her way of making sure everyone remembers she wanted nothing to do with it.” He paused when his eyes fell on me. “You brought a friend?” He grinned and smacked Alex on the back. “About time. Come. Eat.”

  He crammed two more chairs around an already-crammed table.

  “Yamas.” He toasted, raising his glass in welcome.

  “Yamas!” Everyone guzzled their drinks, like they
’d been waiting for an excuse to pour more wine.

  “Alexandreee!” A high-pitched wail assailed my ears.

  “Dimitra.” Alex stood as a pink-cheeked woman came running toward him.

  “They are taking my boy.” She flung her arms around him.

  “Only for a few months. He’ll be back before you know it. And look how happy he is.” He gestured toward her son, who grinned from the sidelines.

  “Of course, Pantelis is happy. He is nineteen and happy to get away from his mother. Look at this face.” She cupped her son’s chin and pressed his cheeks until his lips pursed. “Some girl will steal his heart and he’ll never come back to me. Ftou, ftou, ftou.” She spit on the ground three times to ward off evil spirits. “Come with me.” She grabbed Alex’s arm. “I made all the food myself.” She exchanged a sly look with the rest of the table. “I must get him a plate, yes?”

  Pantelis tried to get Alex’s attention, but the rest of the table cheered her on. “Yamas!”

  “I’ll be right back with something to eat,” Alex said before Dimitra swept him away.

  He wasn’t gone long when a sun-grizzled man with a shock of gray hair took his seat.

  “You came with Alexandros?” He gave me a leathery handshake when I nodded. “I am Vasilis.”

  “Moti,” I replied.

  “Good, good.”

  Nothing good about the way he stared at my hair. He reached out to touch it, but I leaned away.

  Okayyyy. Creepy old dude.

  “Don’t be afraid. I just need a little snip.” He pulled out a pair of scissors from his jacket.

  Oh hell, no. I looked around the table, thinking that perhaps no one noticed Edward Scissorhands beside me, but they were all watching. And smiling.

  “Yamas!” They saluted me.

  Shit. Now I was getting serious cult-like vibes.

  Vasilis snipped the air with his scissors, as if testing the blades, and stood.

  Where the hell is Alex? My eyes darted around. How can he leave me with the Folegandros Fetish Society? Wait. Is he in on it? Did he lure me here as some kind of offering? What better offering to bring to an island than someone who can’t swim, right?

  My fingers tightened around a fork. One step closer and I was going to stick it in Vasilis’ jugular.