The Flow

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

  “Dad?” said Sofia, placing a hand on her father’s arm. People around them were staring. This was a hospital after all. They had to respect the distress of others.

  Yiannis jolted upright and began pacing away in response, so it was easy for Antonis to take heed from his daughter’s intervention. When his brother returned a few minutes later to sit on the bench beside him again, he had tears in his eyes.

  “I am so sorry, Brother,” said Yiannis, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. “It’s just that this, all this, is bringing it all back . . .”

  “Bringing what back?” asked Antonis, astounded. He’d started to think his brother was in a dire need of a psychotherapist, and fast. Okay, this was an emotional time, but he was going on a field trip with it.

  “I mean what happened to our Sofia . . . all those years ago.”

  Antonis arched his brows. “You mean our sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was too young to remember,” said Antonis without any feeling, just stating the fact.

  “Indeed, you were too young, too small. But for a teenage boy like me, it was all too vivid. Actually, it still feels like it happened yesterday.”

  “Well, it was tragic, of course. She was only seventeen after all. But there’s no point in dwelling on the past like that, Yiannis.”

  “But don’t you wish we could have done something about it? We could have saved her, Brother. You and me! But we didn’t! How can you let that go?”

  “Save her? It was a car, Yiannis! It passed by in the blink of an eye. It was going too fast and we weren’t even there.”

  “Car? What car? Surely you didn’t believe the lie Dad spread all over the village?”

  “What lie? What on earth are you talking about, Yiannis?”

  Yiannis leaned forward and rested his eyes on Sofia again. His features softened and his eyes glinted momentarily, the pupils dilating and the sides of his mouth curling up in a little smile that somehow, put Sofia at ease, for the first time ever in his presence.

  Finally, she realised. Every time he’d looked at her that way, he’d been thirstily staring into the face of his long lost sister. Sofia had been listening intently to the conversation, growing all the more interested in it. Uncle Yiannis’s last words had filled her with bewilderment. What really happened to my aunt?

  “Ah, now I understand, Antonis,” said Uncle Yiannis. “You were too little to remember. And in time you bought the lie that our father told you, the village, and the whole world.” He met his brother’s stunned gaze, a spark igniting in his eyes. “Tell me, do you honestly not remember what really happened to our poor sister?”

  Antonis was so dumbfounded by now, all he could do is shake his head.

  “Do you remember the field our family kept back then by the river? It had an ancient olive tree at its entrance. We kept a chicken shed and a couple of goats and grew vegetables there too.”

  “Yes, of course I remember that.”

  “Well, that cursed day, our sister went alone there to tend to the field and feed the animals. Our mother was sick, remember? No, of course you don’t . . . well, our mother was sick so she couldn’t go with her.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . before she got there, Sofia asked us if we wanted to come along for company. That morning, I was meeting my friends to go fishing in the river, and so, I said no. You wanted to go, but I didn’t let you. Stupidly enough, I claimed you from her. It was easy to convince you to come with me instead of her, but on our way to the river, we stopped by the field to check on her.”

  Antonis shook his head. “I don’t recall any of that. So, what happened? Did we see her there?”

  Yiannis gave a dreamy smile. As he raised his sparkling eyes that focused far beyond the hospital wall in front of them, it was evident he was looking at his sister right then, there in the field, that last day.

  “Yes. She waved us eagerly in via the wooden gate and rushed to get you the fresh eggs from the chicken shed. Of course, she didn’t expect us to carry them home for her. But she brought them to you, because she knew how you loved to hold them in your tiny hands, so warm from the nest.

  Then, tittering, she took them back from you and placed them carefully in her satchel along with all the vegetables she’d picked. She had already fed the chickens, but she still had to take the goats to the adjoining olive grove, to graze there all day, shielded from the fierce heat of the summer day. I remember how she tied them all to a single tether, and we headed to the grove together. When she fastened the tether to a tree, I told her we were late in meeting my friends further down the river.”

  Yiannis pursed his lips then, and his eyes pooled with tears. “This is when we fought. You wanted to go back to the field, to water the trees and the plants with her, but I wouldn’t let you. I shouted at her for claiming you from me. Still, now I know she never did. All she did is state the obvious; that you simply wanted to stay behind and keep her company. But I was stupid, and a little jealous. I wanted us boys to be together. I didn’t care for what she had to say.” Uncle Yiannis stopped talking then. Sobs rose to his mouth, and he burst out crying.

  Stunned, the others watched numbly for a few moments, then Antonis put a tender arm around his shoulders. “Yiannis, I dread to hear what happened to our sister that day. But I want you to know, that whatever it is, I don’t hold you responsible. You were a child, Yiannis, a child like I was. Older than me but still a child. Let go of the guilt. Is this what’s been torturing you all this time?”

  As Yiannis continued to cry, Antonis waited silently, and next to him, his daughter too. For the first time, Sofia witnessed a transformation in her uncle. Now it all began to make sense.

  After a few minutes, once Yiannis gained his composure enough to carry on, he sat upright on the bench and heaved a long sigh. “And so, I took you away in a hurry and we left her there in the olive grove alone. We never saw her again. Not alive, anyway . . .”

  “What happened to her, Brother? The truth.”

  Yiannis shook his head. “All I know is hearsay. Snippets of information I gathered from the village over the years, as well as an old, dog-eared report that I was allowed to see among the police station files. Dad . . . he made sure no one ever really found out the whole truth.”

  “So, what do you know?” asked Antonis.

  Yiannis cast his eyes on Sofia, his expression full of alarm. “Perhaps . . . perhaps you could leave us for a few minutes, my darling?”

  “No, Uncle! She was my aunt too. I want to know!” said Sofia, surprising herself with her resolve, her courage to reply as firmly as that. Next to her, her father nodded his agreement.

  Yiannis sighed and nodded. “All right then. Father made up a story that she was hit by a car, but actually, she got . . . assaulted. I heard it from locals in Messi, including the first man who found her in the olive grove. When she didn’t come home and he didn’t find her in the field either, Father and some of the locals got together and started looking for her on foot and in boats, up and down the river. In the end, one of them found her very near where the goats had remained tethered. Her face and body were bruised. Whoever did this to her strangled her in the end, but not before tearing up her clothes and . . . and . . .” Yiannis swallowed hard and clutched his chest, unable to continue.

  “Oh, my God! Oh, dear God! All these years and I never knew. Poor, poor Sofia . . .” lamented Antonis in a whisper, burying his face in his hands. Next to him, his daughter looked on, her mouth gaping open, her face ashen.

  Yiannis drew a sharp breath that burned at his throat, then he sighed and brushed his mouth with an urgent hand before speaking. “So . . . you can imagine the rest. The police arrived and took photographs, then they took her body to be inspected by doctors in Corfu town.”

  “Oh, my God . . . I can't believe I remember nothing of all this!”

  “You don’t remember her death at all then, Antonis?”

  “No, but I remember the time
after her death; the grief that lingered in the house for years like an unwelcome guest. I remember our father growing a beard and both our parents wearing black . . . but I remember nothing about the day she died.”

  “You can thank our father for that, Antonis.”

  “Our father? Why do you say that?”

  “He didn’t want any of this to be known, for our sakes. The same day, he sat us both down with Mother and told us that what happened to our sister was never to be discussed again, even to each other. He knew I felt guilty we’d left her alone to go fishing together, so he hid the truth to protect me from it, to protect both of us and to allow us to forget. And even though our little village never found out the truth, my awful guilt just never subsided.”

  “Uncle?” asked Sofia then, who continued to sit next to her father. Antonis still sat in the middle, and now he was shaking his head fiercely, unbelieving.

  Yiannis raised his head slowly and turned to face Sofia, his eyes dull and introvert, as if he were blind. “Yes, Sofia mou?” he murmured. The fact his niece was the striking image of his lost sister, had always been a strange comfort to him, but right now, to look at her, seemed almost like she were an angel, here on earth for just one purpose; to deliver his long-awaited, precious deliverance.

  “Did they catch the person who killed her?”

  Yiannis shook his head. “I am not sure. Again, all I have to count on is hearsay. When I was in my mid-twenties, they caught a man in Lefkimmi who had been a drifter all his life. He’d been caught for killing a man with a knife in a field over money differences. He got life in prison, but not just for that crime. In a bout of guilt, he confessed to the police he’d assaulted a few women sexually, killing a couple of them too. One of them, he’d said, in Messi. I tried to visit him in jail when I heard, to try to find out if he was the one who’d taken our Sofia away from us, but it turned out he’d hanged himself in his cell . . . so I never found out. I remember telling Father, but he didn’t want to know. He said as far as he was concerned, his girl had been hit by a car and died on the roadside.”

  “But why? I don’t understand,” whispered Antonis.

  “I told you, Yiannis. Dad wanted us both to live free from those horrid memories. He hid the truth from the world, but I guess the lie helped him too. I am sure it eased his own pain. Sadly, I haven’t been as lucky. My guilt, in time, turned into dread. Dread that it could happen again in our family. Every time I looked at Sofia, I saw our sister again. Our sister we left abandoned alone back there.”

  “So this is why? This is why you’ve been doing all this, phoning me to report on Sofia, and to give so much unsolicited advice?” asked Antonis, his daughter next to him, repeating exactly the same question inside her head.

  “I’m so sorry, Brother. I was wrong. I have spent my whole life trying to let go . . . but the notion that stuck in my head was that if I hadn’t insisted on going fishing that day, or if I had at least allowed you to stay behind with our sister, perhaps she’d have been saved, somehow.”

  “But that’s absurd, Yiannis. What could I have done to protect her? I was only little.”

  Yiannis shook his head. “I know . . . Our parents tried so hard for so long to put sense into me . . . but my guilt was immense. In time, I started to have irrational fears, to see threats everywhere. Those fears made me a judge, a horrible judge. I did it with you, and I’ve just done it with Lilis again today. Deep down I know that not all girls walking around alone are in mortal danger, but it’s just so hard to reason like that in my head. So hard to let go and forget. Forgive me. Please forgive me. For everything!”

  Antonis took his brother in his arms, and they cried together. Once they calmed down a little, Antonis grasped his brother’s face tenderly in both hands and looked at him, his eyes burning. “We did nothing wrong, Brother. I know that with all my heart. All that’s left now is for you to truly forgive yourself. This is the only way for you to find peace, to get rid of those fears for my Sofia, for Dora, for all the girls in the world. Trust me; you do that, you’ll be a new man.”

  When Lilis and Rini returned from the cafeteria, they found nothing strange among their relatives. By then, both brothers had calmed down and perked up considerably, with Sofia perhaps, feeling the most relieved among them. But the string of unbelievable events didn’t end there. Shortly after Lilis and Rini returned to sit on the bench with the others, the doctor came out. He flung his arms open wide and gave a huge grin. “Come! Dora’s awake! She’s communicating!”

  Chapter 36

  1940

  The late afternoon sun was slowly descending towards the horizon. At this hour, it shone feebly from behind cotton clouds that were rimmed violet and orange, the hues darkening by the second. Laura sauntered along the shore with Charles. As always, they walked side by side, without holding hands.

  Charles was fairly talkative, telling Laura how determined he was to safeguard the family’s good fortune through the war. He’d been speaking for a while but was being quite vague. It sounded more like an elaborate introduction to Laura, who was starting to feel uneasy. If indeed, he was preparing the scene for something, she’d been on the receiving end quite a lot. When that happened in her presence, but his efforts were concentrated on someone else other than her, such as his doting mother or anyone among their mutual acquaintances, she’d often wonder at his innate ability to coax and manipulate. Furthermore, having studied him for so long meant that by now, she knew well when it was coming, and who it was aimed at. Tensing, she sensed that today, it was her turn.

  “Why can't you be more specific?” she blurted out, her patience wearing thin. After the lovely night they’d had together, she was hoping for a peaceful day, but he wasn’t helping. And there was also that strange incident around the breakfast table that still played on her mind.

  “Oh, there’s so much to say!” he replied, his alabaster cheeks flushed from the bracing wind. “Oh, Laura, the war provides aspiring businessmen with endless possibilities!”

  Laura threw up her hands. “Another venture, Charles? I can't believe you.”

  “But why not? One must persevere, darling! Success doesn’t come without patience and persistence. It takes time.”

  “But, Charles, surely you forget! Your chocolate bar idea for the Army fell through with such a massive debt for the family that I’m surprised your father still speaks to us.”

  “That money was mine! It was out of my intended inheritance!”

  “Which you had your mother convince your father to part with prematurely!”

  “It was mine to use as I please!”

  “It was for our future, Charles! And now, thanks to your inspired venture, it’s gone up in smoke. I’m really amazed your father hasn’t disowned you yet!”

  “Who gives a damn about him? The old bastard!”

  “You should be more appreciative. If it weren’t for his generous monthly allowance to us, not only would we be unable to keep our home and the staff, we’d practically be starving.”

  “I’m neither the first nor the last to have a mishap on the way to business success. One must strive on, Laura.”

  “So tell me, what is this now? You have a new plan all lined up already, do you? How much is this one going to cost us?”

  “Your attitude is unacceptable. I happen to—”

  “Tell me!” she demanded, cutting him short.

  “I’ll have you know that this new idea is infallible! My perspective investor—”

  “More investors! I can't believe it! Did you go directly to the police station to find them this time?”

  “That is cheap, Laura! I had no idea about those men! The gentleman’s club idea was genius, you must admit, and it was all mine! I found the location, I spoke to the owners—”

  “And yet, you managed to find investors with criminal records!”

  Charles gave a huff. “Obviously, if I’d known they were criminals I wouldn’t have associated with them.”

  She sho
ok her head. “And still you don’t learn.”

  Laura, your derision of my business efforts is utterly unbecoming, and I won't stand for it! Damn it, you are my wife, and I urge you to act accordingly!”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “Just tell me, what makes you think this time you will succeed?”

  “My new perspective investor is an honourable man, I assure you! Mr Porter is well known for his business successes all over town. I’ll have you know that he approached me himself when he heard about my new idea through the grapevine. Not only is he willing to finance the whole venture, but he’s also offering me to run the business. My dream will finally come true, Laura. I will have my own factory!”

  She raised her brows, her twinkling eyes brightening her expression. “Technically, it will be yours and Mr Porter’s.”

  “Quite!” He gave a firm nod. “But the point is, I will be the Head Manager. And without asking my father for a penny.”

  “I’m sure your father will be pleased. So what’s the idea?”

  “Tinned beans.”

  “I’m sure there’s a lot of competition for that.”

  “You will be surprised how much demand there is with the Army sprawled out across Europe.”

  “That’s a lot of beans,” she joked, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

  He gave a wry smile in response. “Indeed.” He wasn’t sure if he had convinced her at all, and this is why he faltered before moving on to his next point. Laura sensed there was more to be said.

  “So, beans?” she encouraged him, waiting for it. “And you have it all worked out? Is Mr Porter all convinced and ready to open his wallet and make your dream come true and all that?”

  “Well,” he hesitated, “There’s one little thing I am hoping to do for him first to help him overcome his reservations.”

  “And what might that be?” she asked, breaking her stride. She shot him an eager glance, looking expectant.

  “Here’s the thing! Mr Porter is a great admirer of yours, dear!”