by Sara Alexi
The hypnotised cheer as the music comes to an end. Adonis is spent, breathing heavily.
The transformed crowd settles, wandering off to replenish their glasses, regain their seats, talk about what has just happened. Adonis rejoins Dino, and several people pass him shot glasses, which he slams back one after the other, sweat running from his forehead. He passes the shot glasses to Dino and Michelle. They both accept. She tips her head back and her throat burns pleasantly. Looking around the room, she feels satisfied with everything in the moment.
The music fades a little. Adonis slaps Dino on the back and pours them all more wine. He tries to make eye contact with Michelle.
‘So you are loving England really, eh Dino?’ Adonis asks, she can tell that his English is good, and Michelle wonders if the accent is something he cultivates.
‘Hey Dino, that you? You are here! Welcome home my friend.’
‘Illias, hey! How is the wood shop going?’ Dino greets the newcomer.
‘Work is not so good, but I am married now.’ He pulls his hand from Dino’s grasp and holds up his fingers to show a ring to prove it. ‘Florentia.’ He nods to a pretty, tiny girl standing by the bar with a group of friends, who Dino vaguely recognises from school. She clearly only has eyes for her husband, her head swivelling like a bird’s every few seconds to smile over to him.
‘Congratulations, Illia.’
‘Thank you. Are you staying?’
‘He wants to stay,’ Adonis says.
Ilias spits on the ground. ‘What do you want to come here for? There is no work. Stay in England, don’t make a mistake … find an English girl. Marriage is a wonderful thing, you should try it Dino. Don’t end up a lonely bachelor like our friend Adonis here.’ He grins at Adonis, expecting a rise, but Adonis tuts and turns his head away. ‘Seriously, Dino, it is amazing. Life feels settled, content. We have no money, but …’ He trails off, and then breaks into a broad grin. ‘Ah!’ he shouts into Dino’s ear, above the music, ‘I heard you have been taking riding lessons in England. But you have forgotten how we do it here in Greece ….’ And with this he pats Dino on his shoulder and leaves, almost hurrying, with long, easy, light strides. Dino scowls in the direction of the bar where Ilias is now embracing Florentia.
The club is smoky and dark, the music a fraction too loud. There are mirrors on the wall, and the walls are painted black. The bar is all mirrors, but somehow it all looks a little homemade, not the cosmopolitan place it is trying to be. Flashy by island standards but slightly funny compared to anything in London.
Michelle tries to picture Adonis in London. He would be lost, not just geographically but in his style, a lamb amongst wolves. They would undo his cool and eat him alive in seconds.
Dino would fit in more. He may be an island boy, but there is more to him somehow.
Dino absent-mindedly picks up Michelle’s hand with his own and explores her nails with his other hand, Adonis and the club recede, the wine swims in her system, giving the world fuzzy edges, smoothing her emotions until there is only Dino.
Adonis looks at their intertwined hands and sniggers.
‘I need the gents.’ Dino lets go of her fingers, kicks his chair back, and stomps across the room. His sudden departure leaves her hand exposed, palm up on the table, her mouth open.
Adonis moves his chair closer to hers.
Chapter 12
‘So how long are you here?’ Adonis asks.
‘Just till the end of the week.’ Michelle feels ever so slightly dizzy.
‘So you have cast your line and he is dangling on the hook. Will you reel him in, take him off the hook, and throw him back, or will you leave him floundering on a long line?’
‘What?’ Is it the wine or is what he is saying not making much sense? Besides, what has it got to do with him?
‘You heard.’ He smiles, but there is no merriment.
‘I heard, but I find it hard to believe. What business is it of yours?’
‘He’s my friend and I do not want to see him hurt.’
‘I have no plans to hurt him.’
‘Listen, you are a commanding-looking woman. You have grace that comes only with maturity. Dino is a young man, younger than me, even though we are the same age. He will not truly appreciate what is special about you. I, on the other hand ….’ He shifts his chair even nearer. Michelle splutters into her wine glass.
For a moment she is speechless. So Dino is interested! He must be, for Adonis to be saying the things he is saying. A smile plays about her mouth but she suppresses it; Adonis is also making a play, which seems unbelievable. It’s very flattering, of course, but what is to be believed from a player like Adonis? Is it from jealousy that she is taking his friend away, or from the dent in his ego that Dino has ‘got a girl’? Whatever the motive, it is no way to behave. She finds her voice.
‘You, on the other hand, are no friend of Dino’s if this is how you act behind his back.’
‘Ha! You and I are people of the world. Tourists pass through here in the thousands, one very like the next, I know. But the same for you, young men must be attracted to you often, one very like the next. All I am saying is if you want to play, I am here, but not Dino. He has had enough hurt.’
Michelle’s mouth drops open and she searches around in her head for her next words, which she knows will come out with force.
‘Here you go.’ Dino hands them a shot glass each before looking from Michelle to Adonis and back again.
‘To love.’ Adonis smirks looking sideways at Michelle as Dino sits.
‘To love.’ Dino answers back looking at Michelle. She hesitates. ‘What, you don’t believe in love?’ Dino asks her.
‘To love.’ She says it quietly and looks directly at the shot glass.
‘Yia Mas.’ Adonis jerks his head back as he drinks, and slams the glass on the table.
Dino follows suit, Michelle drinks two sips and returns hers to the table, half full. Dino smiles at her, shifting his chair nearer to her on the opposite side to Adonis. Adonis pulls his chair forward again too.
‘You know, I think I need to go.’ Michelle is not finding the attention very pleasant. It has been two years since the relief of no longer having to deal with Richard and his little games, and she is not about to be pulled into the same arena by anyone else. Life is too short, as recent events have all too clearly shown.
Dino stands as she does.
‘No, it’s OK. I can walk myself home. Anyway, I need the loo first.’ She staggers toward the sign by the bar, surprised at how tipsy she is, and relieved to be alone.
‘Not a good choice, my friend. She will use you and dump you.’ Adonis leans away to the table next to theirs, taps the man sitting there on the shoulder, and mimes smoking a cigarette. The man hesitates, but the girl sitting with him complies. Adonis smiles his thanks. Her eyes shine.
‘I thought you had given up.’ Dino speaks without looking at him.
‘Did you hear me?’ Adonis presses his point. The girl passes him a light; he looks up into her eyes as his cigarette catches.
‘I think with your track record, you are no one to be preaching.’ Dino inches his chair away from the smoke.
‘What do you know of love? This one is old enough to be your mother. Or is that what you want?’
Dino glares, hands making fists. He clenches and unclenches his jaw. ‘Shut up, Adonis.’ He snarls the words.
‘Soon as you left the table, she had eyes only for me, her hand on my arm, sidling up to me, our thighs touching. Just your average tourist.’
‘You’re lying.’ Dino spits. Adonis shrugs.
‘Just warning you,’ he says, but he cannot meet Dino’s stare. Instead, he looks around the bar, feigning interest in everything until his gaze is caught by a table where three girls sit, in a far corner.
Seeing Michelle walking across the room to the exit, Dino stands, finishes his drink in a gulp, picks a couple of choice Greek words for Adonis, and trots, in not quite a straight lin
e, across to catch her up.
Outside the moon is bright and the stars are out in their millions. Dino slings his arm around Michelle’s shoulders and she does not push him off. They begin to stroll. Their steps get slower, they stop. For the briefest of moments she wonders where Adonis is, but the thought drifts away before it really lodges. Dino turns to her. The wine mixed with the fresh air makes everything spin. Michelle wonders if she will make it back to Zoe’s. Maybe slowly, in stages. She looks up above Dino’s face, past the silhouetted olive tree to the ink infinity beyond.
There is a tingle on her lips, her senses swim, her eyes are blind, her ears deaf, nothing but sensations. Warmth flows the length of her body, belonging, engulfed. A shiver runs down her spine. She is sinking, her legs weakening until a silent roar comes from deep within and she surfaces out of a sea of exhilaration and opens her eyes. Pupil to pupil, nose to nose. This can only end badly.
Dino steps away from her abruptly.
‘Good night then.’ Adonis’ distant pleasantry has a tone. Dino shouts something in Greek, his face scrunching into a growl. Michelle cannot remember the last time she was this drunk.
Adonis repeats his goodnights, but this time Dino does not answer. Michelle figures they have had words.
‘Hizjealous.’ Her slurring surprises her. So reckless. She needs to drink some water or coffee.
The walk back to Zoe’s becomes progressively easier; the air and the movement add life to her limbs. It’s not that she has drunk a lot, it’s just that she is not used to drinking so much anymore. Gone are the days with Juliet getting so drunk they couldn’t stand, staying out all night.
‘You all right?’ Dino asks.
‘Yes, fine. You? What’s Adonis’ problem?’ She takes her time to annunciate each word. There seem to be too many esses.
‘He’s being … did you … no, forget it … Malaka.’ He finishes, turning his head in the direction Adonis disappeared.
Arm in arm he helps Michelle up the steps at Zoe’s. Kyria Zoe’s light is on and her door is ajar. He treads more lightly and takes most of Michelle’s weight. As he is opening Michelle’s door, Kyria Zoe steps from her own chambers into the moonlight, glowing in a loose, long-sleeved, floor-length nightdress. She stretches, the moon in her white hair.
‘Ah, good evening, Dino.’
Hastily he unhooks Michelle’s arm from around the back of his neck and with a gentle push towards her bed, he lets go of her and closes her door after her. He does not need Kyria Zoe’s pious opinions after Adonis’ selfish ones.
‘Good night, Kyria Zoe.’ He takes hold of the ornate metal balcony handrail to ensure a steady walk to his room. He feels the years of paint, the layers that have taken away all the edges and details, smooth beneath his hand. He keeps this his focus until he reaches his door, which he opens and calls again. ‘Good night, Kyria Zoe.’
Laying on his back, he feels the room spin slightly. Outside it is hot enough for the cicadas to still be rasping. Bloody Adonis. It is fine for him to be with girl after girl, each summer a new set of tourists, his playground. But the moment Dino finds someone ….
He flops over onto his stomach on the ungiving mattress and tries to peel his t-shirt off without getting up. He takes a breath with one arm still in the armhole, the rest around his neck.
Beautiful Michelle. Who is Adonis to tell him what to do? Or Kyria Zoe, for that matter? He rolls off the bed onto his feet and straightens, pulls his t-shirt completely off, and throws it in the direction of the chair but misses. He rubs his hands up and down his chest and strides to the door. He opens it cautiously. The moon is behind a tall eucalyptus tree, casting shadows along the balcony, the tree’s leaves hissing in the night’s stirrings. All else is quiet.
Tiptoeing, he makes his way towards Michelle’s door. There is the sound of something small rustling in the courtyard below.
‘Can’t you sleep?’ A voice creaks.
In the shadows Dino sees a mattress and a person lying on the balcony.
‘If you are too hot, I don’t mind if you put your bedding out on the balcony. It’s the only way I can sleep this time of year.’
‘Oh, er, yes, too hot. Just needed some air really, Kyria Zoe. Right, I’ll say goodnight then.’ His room after this seems like the safer option, but the bed is just as uncomfortable. The morning light sneaks in before his eyes close.
If self-indulgence gives her this size of headache, she wants no more of it. If she moves, the room spins. Coffee would be great, but she cannot face the walk down to the harbour.
There is a tap on the door. She can tell it is a tap by its resonance, but it might as well be a gong or canon. Water, she needs water first and foremost.
‘Can I come in?’ Just Dino’s head appears around the door, smiling. ‘Oh dear, are you all right?’
Did she imagine it or did they ... Adonis saying goodnight from far away, Dino’s arm around her waist. Oh my goodness, they had, they did. They kissed. Her chest trembles and her stomach twists. Horror and thrill. Pleasure and pain. There is no way this is going to end smoothly. She has to go to Athens a week from today. She won’t get a chance to see Juliet, talk it over, make some sense; it is all going horribly wrong.
‘Dino, we need to talk.’
With a coffee in each hand and a bottle of water under his arm, Dino pushes the door open with his shoulder. He is grinning, his hair in his eyes, his jeans around his hips. He still hasn’t replaced the belt he lost on the cliff face.
‘Look,’ she begins. Dino opens the French windows and invites her to sit, the plastic-lidded coffee cups on the table. ‘What happened, last night ....’ She falters, the sun on his hair, the cloudless blue sky and dazzling sunshine pleading with her to let go of all her rules and regulated living, to seize the moment, not to end up regretting what she has not done.
It is on the tip of her tongue to say never mind, drink the coffee, and enjoy his attention. As she sits, she looks him straight in the face. He is so young. For his sake she must speak.
‘Dino, I am fifty.’ There, he knows.
He nods his head and smiles.
‘Look, unless I had a weird dream I believe we ... that you and I ... last night, just before Adonis said goodbye, we ....’
‘Kissed.’ He takes the top off one of the coffees and passes it to her with a grin. She unscrews the water bottle.
‘You’re twenty-four, aren’t you? Young, anyway.’
‘How old do you feel?’ He rattles the ice in his coffee. The sun is overhead. She wonders how late she slept.
‘Dino, that is not the point. Look at it this way. When I am sixty, you will be in your prime. When I am seventy, you will be having a mid-life crisis, buying a sports car and trying to date girls of eighteen, leaving me a lonely old woman. Whichever way you look at this, it is not fair on either of us.’
‘I think I have your coffee. There is not enough sugar in this.’
‘Are you listening?’
‘Yes, but what do you want me to say? It is how it is: I cannot be older, you cannot be younger.’
‘It’s just morally indecent.’ The pitch of her voice has risen.
He throws his head back and laughs. Michelle tries to keep a straight face, but his smile is infectious.
‘Dino, please, I am trying to be serious. It is futile to start anything.’
He just grins and sips his coffee.
‘Don’t you care?’
‘No, no really ....’ He rubs his face with the palms of his hands, making circular motions with his fingers over his eyes.
‘Well, you will when I am incontinent and in a wheelchair!’
He laughs even more, puts his coffee down so he won’t spill it, and wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. Michelle waits till his laughing subsides.
‘The one thing I know about life is it can change suddenly.’ He has adopted a serious tone, but the smile remains.
‘Oh, you mean like poor Dolly.’
‘Not only.’
‘Then what do you mean?’
‘No, nothing. Yes, like Dolly. Come on, drink your coffee. Let’s go do something.’
‘Do you not think it is wrong, me being so much older?’
‘Did it feel wrong when we kissed?’
‘I am not sure that is a good measure.’ Michelle wonders if Dino has had enough life experience to understand why such a thing is unacceptable.
‘Look at it this way, the first time I was ever in Greece, you were at home getting your nappy changed and I was getting blind drunk in bars with Juliet.’
‘Ah, you see, you were missing me.’ He is swilling his ice around his coffee again.
‘Be serious. When I was doing my post grad, you weren’t even born. When I was getting married, you were about ten. It’s just not right.’
He hands her the coffee and turns slowly to face the view of the top of the town.
‘You see that church?’
Michelle nods, wondering what any church has to do with their situation.
‘It was built five hundred years ago. But still each day people light candles there. Others will light them long after those people are dead. It is not the age that matters.’ He turns to face her. ‘And the sun that you are shielding your eyes from. Eight minutes ago that light was burning on its surface. Now, to the sun it is gone, but to earth it provides light. And last night as we kissed, above us were a million stars, and many of them already extinguished years ago, gone. But the light is still reaching us, we still enjoy them.’
He looks back to the view.
‘Would you not agree that today is a beautiful day, the sun shines, the world looks alive, we are in a beautiful place, yes?’
‘Yes but ...’
‘Well, do you want to waste this day having a moral argument or shall we just enjoy it?’
