The wine glass in front of her was empty. She didn’t remember finishing it off.
A moment later, the tip of the bottle made a loud Clink! sound several times as she unsteadily tapped it against the glass to refill it. The wine glass was now full and the bottle was empty.
Maybe Jolie was right and I shouldn’t drink alone or drink so much.
To her right, she felt a sudden chill as if a window had been opened and a bone cold wind had rushed to embrace her. It was gone as suddenly as it had manifested itself but as she had turned to discover its origin, she again saw the Federal Express package. She picked it up.
Athina Panagakos.
The name of her mother’s only sister and only remaining relative as far as Denise was aware. Athina lived in Greece somewhere. Denise had never met her. Her mother had rarely mentioned her, but whenever she had, the name had lingered with Denise for some reason. When her mother had died, there had been no flowers or phone call or card from Athina or any relatives; Denise would have remembered. And her Dad hadn’t mentioned her. Even in the murky state of diminishing alertness she was in, Denise managed to wonder how her Aunt had obtained her address, or why. Why was Athina Panagakos contacting her by Federal Express. What was so urgent?
Feeling as if she was moving in slow motion, Denise managed to pull back the strip to open the envelope. She reached into the packet and for an instant thought she felt that incredible cold again, an icy touch so harsh it could give you freezer burn, but as soon as she sensed it, the sensation was gone. She pulled out a piece of stationary and what felt like a long, thin brochure. Denise turned the envelope over and shook it but nothing else fell out.
In her hand was an airline wrapper with the Delta logo on the cover, and inside was a one-way ticket for Greece. The flight was in three days.
The piece of grainy stationary had an eggshell finish to it and was rough to the touch. It was folded in half and when Denise opened it, the handwriting was uneven and appeared to have been hastily scrawled. The message was short:
Denise:
Periklis died three years ago and I urgently need your assistance next week. Enclosed is a plane ticket. Please come. You must come.
Athina
Denise read the short note over twice and examined the plane ticket. It was first class to Greece and appeared to be legitimate. No return ticket was included. She took a sip of wine and not knowing or caring what the time difference was, impulsively grabbed her phone. She tapped in the number Athina had provided on the address label. Her cotton mind worked slowly and she fumbled the first time, her fingers misdialing. She connected the second time. After several clicking sounds, the phone seemed to settle in and the foreign buzz of a ringing phone somewhere in the Santorini village of Pyrgos in Greece began.
She listened. The purring ring continued…
She reached for her wine glass. It was empty, which wasn’t possible, she had just filled it. The phone was no longer in her hand, it was on the sofa. She could hear the phone was still ringing. No one had answered. She was groggy and felt as if she had dozed off and had dropped the phone onto the couch. Her wristwatch was fuzzy, impossible to read. She had no idea what the time was.
Her phone continued to ring her Aunt’s number. Obviously, the number provided was not a mobile, no voice mail kicked in, and no answering machine engaged. Had she dialed the correct number? Denise ended the connection and stared at her phone, intent on focusing her thoughts. She wanted to talk to her Aunt, find out what was so urgent. She wanted to let this Aunt—whom she never remembered meeting—know that she couldn’t just drop everything to fly off to Greece. She had clients and the fall and holiday seasons were coming and they would need her assistance, and she needed the commissions off their purchases.
Denise carefully punched the numbers in again, reading them aloud off of the Federal Express envelope. Again, there were the soft clicks and then a sense that everything was on track and in a groove and the ringing began. It continued for more than a minute. When there was no answer, she disconnected the call.
Outside, there was a flash of lightning. The weather forecast was for more of the same for the next two days. She preferred to walk to her clients’ apartments but when it rained or snowed, she took the subway since cabs and Uber were too expensive and slow due to the traffic. So the rain meant the subways, the disgusting smells, and being crammed in with dozens of others for the next couple of days.
She Googled the weather in Greece; the average temperature in September was 74 degrees and the weather forecast was sunny with a high in the mid-70s for the next five days.
How are you doing?
I’m feeling a bit lost.
Denise stared at the empty glass, wondering where all the wine had gone and sensing that she had probably passed out at some point during the evening. Her mind was filled with unsettling thoughts and half formed images that she would later dream of; she saw herself as literally being lost, wandering streets and alleys in despair or stumbling through barren wastelands with stark rock formations stretching out in all directions.
“I can’t even see the numbers on my watch or phone to know what time it is,” she said. Saying it out loud, admitting it, acknowledging it, broke something inside of her and she felt herself begin to collapse, a slow motion avalanche. In the past, she’d push beyond it with teeth-gritting determination—one foot in front of the other—but this time, she allowed herself to cave in, to cry, to allow the cascade of emotions to rain down on her.
She wept and then she fell into sleep.
She awoke before seven the next morning on the couch, expecting to feel the usual muffled agony of a hangover but she actually felt rested. She noticed a half glass of red wine on the coffee table. Her thoughts about the previous evening were murky ones, more like dreams, but she recalled drinking a lot and nothing was left in the glass. The bottle of wine on the table in front of her was more than half full.
“So…I dreamt that I drank more then I actually did?” she said, trying to make sense of what she remembered. She saw the plane ticket and note from her Aunt on the sofa. She remembered calling but had she actually done that? She scrolled through her phone and checked the outgoing calls she had made. She found three international calls. The first number didn’t match the second and she remembered she had misdialed. The second number she had called twice. She checked the number to see how long each call had been:
7:07 p.m. 011 30 22860 33932 247 minutes
12:05 a.m. 011 30 22860 33932 367 minutes
She dropped the phone on the sofa as if it had bitten her. In total, her phone had been ringing that number more than ten hours. But her recollection of the previous evening was so skewed she had no idea what was real and what was a dream. Clearly, the phone record and the almost full bottle of wine were facts. She had not been drinking to excess but she had dialed that number twice and…and let it ring for more than ten hours?
“What was I doing all that time?”
The customer service phone representative was Nigel and he was very accommodating.
“I certainly wouldn’t have let the phone ring for more than ten hours,” Denise told him. “I just want to confirm I won’t be charged for any of this.”
“Yeah, that would be super weird,” he said. “And no one ever picked up so technically the call was never completed or actually placed; not even a voice mail or answering machine kicked in. Really weird.” No charges were incurred.
She had taken care of that before 10 a.m. since she had a noon lunch with a client. The plane ticket and stationary remained on the sofa. She dumped out the half glass of wine, something she never would have done before. But something had happened to her the previous evening and she knew she needed to have a clear head for whatever was about to happen.
She made a date for dinner with Jolie and then made some phone calls. She rescheduled all of her clients for the next two weeks. It was just early enough in the season that none of them were too miffed and when sh
e explained it was a family emergency, they all said, “Of course. If there’s anything I can do…” There were two clients that expressed she had put them in a bit of a bind so she immediately told them that her friend Jolie would take care of them.
“And that’s why you’re buying me dinner tonight,” Denise said that evening after they had toasted their first drink. “I know you’ll take great care of these ladies.”
Jolie nodded, surprised and curious at all that Denise had said on the phone and in person. She knew something significant was up and she waited for her friend to tell her all that was happening.
It only took a few minutes for Denise to tell an edited version of the previous evening’s events. She left out all her confusion about the wine she did or didn’t drink, the ten hours of ringing her Aunt, and the odd sensations of cold that came and went throughout the evening. She had convinced herself that she had simply fallen asleep after dialing the number the first time, and then, for some reason, re-dialed it and fallen back to sleep. She didn’t mention the weird dreams and nightmare images she had experienced.
They had met at the restaurant both dripping wet from the thunderstorm that was whisking its way through the city. It had taken them some time and much laughter in the ladies’ room as they attempted to dry their hair and make themselves presentable.
Once they were seated and Denise had told Jolie all she knew, a loud crack of thunder boomed about the restaurant, causing one patron to shriek in surprise.
“And that is why I am getting out of this shit storm for a few days!” Denise said. “It’s in the 70s in Greece and all the weather forecasts show bright circles of sun, no black storm clouds like New York.”
“You could take me with you,” Jolie suggested.
“Or you could stay and make a lot of money off my clients.”
“Yes, there’s that…”
Over dinner, they passed the note from Aunt Athina back and forth a few times.
“You don’t remember ever meeting her?” Jolie asked.
Denise shook her head. “Nope, and my Mom rarely if ever mentioned her. Out of sight, out of mind I guess.”
“And who is…Periklis?” Jolie stumbled over the name, trying to pronounce it.
“No idea. I looked it up and it’s a guy’s name. Maybe her husband?”
“Or a pet dog?”
Denise grinned. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot? A trip to Greece to pay my respects to a dog!”
Jolie picked up the letter and read aloud, “‘Periklis died three years ago and I urgently need your assistance next week.’ I don’t get it. He died three years ago but she urgently needs your help next week?”
“What can I say? I know as much as you do about this.”
“Which isn’t much at all. And you tried to call but no answer?”
“Nope.”
“And that doesn’t concern you, this person you’ve never met somehow finds your address and sends you a one-way ticket to Greece?”
“First-class one way ticket,” Denise corrected her friend. “And yeah, the whole thing is sort of weird but…I don’t know, I feel good about it, you know? I mean, I need something unique and exciting in my life. I feel like I’ve been in this…flat line mode or something, just existing, day after day. It’s been this way ever since Dad died, and I feel like I need…something to wake me up, you know?”
Just then, a group of four entered the restaurant. In the brief time the door was opened, the clatter of the rain and the whoosh of the wind and street noise and the ominous growl of the thunder could be heard. It sounded like a war zone outside.
Denise smiled. “And there’s that; just think, in a couple days, I’ll be in Greece in the sunshine, on the beautiful beaches, meeting handsome men.”
“‘Please come. You must come,’” Jolie said, ignoring Denise and reading from the letter. “Really? This all sounds really weird to me. You sure about going? You really don’t know anything about your Aunt or why it’s so urgent you be there.”
“But I’ll know soon enough, won’t I?”
Denise was never able to reach her Aunt by phone. Neither Google nor an international directory was of any help, either. She did manage to confirm that the plane ticket was valid, so she assumed that her Aunt would have someone meet her when she arrived in Athens. And if not, if the whole trip was some bizarre mistake, she’d simply spend some time in Greece and then buy a return ticket home.
The ten-hour flight left JFK late Thursday afternoon and she arrived Friday morning in Athens. The first-class ticket ensured she had a plush seat and plenty of room to stretch out and sleep, read or watch the dozens of movies and television shows available. Her fellow passengers slept with the exception of one young man who fiddled about on his keyboard the entire trip. Those millennials, she thought. Always on-line.
Athens was seven hours ahead of New York so by the time Denise collected her baggage, she was exhausted and disoriented but also too wired to fall asleep. She had left New York under chilly, rainy skies but now the sun was bright and the air temperature was 73 degrees. She sent Jolie a text that she had arrived safely. With her purse over her shoulder and her wheeled luggage pulled behind her, she tried to walk with purpose like every other traveler, even though in her gut she had no idea what she was to do next other than hope that someone would meet her at the gate.
The crowd around her were all speaking Greek and shouting at arriving passengers as if they were long lost or long-unseen relatives, which she supposed many were. Cries went up and people were hugging and crying and waving at the passengers. Dozens of drivers and tour guides were also lined up, most of them holding up the names of the services they represented or the parties they were hired to transport.
Denise hesitated and felt that everyone was staring at her, wondering who she was. She moved past the security into the crowd and scanned the placards with names on them, hoping to find her own. With every second that passed, her anxiety level rose.
Was this all a mistake? Had she come all this way, only to…
Denise Boulos.
There it was, her name. In bold black letters on a white sign. Relief rushed through her and all at once, she felt as if she could fall asleep on her feet, she was so weary. She walked to the young man with the sign and his eyes lit up.
“Ms. Boulos?”
She nodded and returned his smile. “My Aunt, Athina Panagakos, sent you?”
He smiled again, his white teeth flashing bright against his dark olive skin. He was slim, early twenties, and his short sleeve shirt exposed ropey, wiry arms. He pointed at her luggage and she nodded as he took the handle from her and gestured her to follow him. He maneuvered her through the crowd and she was surprised and delighted to see half a dozen cats calming walking amongst the crowd or watching them with distain, their tails curled smugly around their bodies.
The driver moved quickly and she panicked for a moment when she lost sight of him and the thought crossed her mind that he would steal her luggage. She pushed the notion away and scolded herself for being so paranoid. Relax. Your Aunt hired this man. You can trust him.
Outside, the weather was glorious. Athens had a golden sheen about it; the warmth immediately calmed and soothed Denise. They had fed her well and often in first class, so she wasn’t at all hungry. Now that she had her driver, she felt she could relax. The fear and uncertainty that had embraced her for the previous few hours began to loosen their grip and soon fell away. Once she was settled in the car and they were on the road, the stretches of landscape were tinged with brown and yellow and the low hills rolled past like gentle waves. She gazed at patches of small homes and businesses as they flashed by and marveled at how clean and orderly everything looked. She wondered if the driver spoke any English but found she was too tired to ask.
She must have fallen asleep because it seemed only a moment later that the car came to a stop and the young man quickly hopped out and scurried around to the trunk. Denise sat up and winced; her left shoulder ha
d clearly been mushed against the car window when she had dozed off. She pulled her purse after her as she left the car.
She was standing in front of the Hotel Grande Bretagne and she could not help but gasp and then laugh at her tourist-like reaction. The place truly was grand, even palatial. One of her clients had stayed there and had said it was one of the most luxurious hotels in southern Europe. The driver returned from the lobby where he had taken her luggage. He smiled again and gestured for her to follow him into the hotel.
Inside, it was luxurious and opulent, with huge square and round marble columns and plush and vibrantly patterned carpets. Rich silk drapes framed the sparkling windows, stately chandeliers reached down from the ceiling, and 19th century furnishings and what Denise assumed were authentic works of art adorned the walls. The intricate moldings and classic décor were all a breathtaking homage to Greek culture. Denise wished that Jolie was there to see it with her; she quickly snapped off some photos and took two selfies, assuming she looked ghastly after the long flight, but knew she had to capture the moments for herself and Jolie.
“Hello Ms. Boulos,” the young woman behind the check-in desk said. “Welcome to the Hotel Grande Bretagne. Your room is waiting and the porter has your key and will take you there.”
Denise turned and smiled automatically at the woman, wondering where the driver had gone. Guests were moving about the huge lobby and Denise had lost sight of him. The woman gestured at a porter who asked Denise to follow him; he was pulling her luggage behind him. She had her purse and looked around again, hoping to find the driver and thank him, but he had clearly made himself scare.
“Do I sign anything for the room?”
“No, it’s all taken care of. Just follow the porter.”
Denise paused, looking around and marveling again at her Aunt’s generosity, someone she had never met before.
9 Tales Told in the Dark 10 Page 5
