by Sara Alexi
It is clear Michelle is not going to get any further with him, and part of her is glad. It does seem a crime to waste the day. What if she were in Dolly’s place next time—would the morality of her and Dino matter then? And besides, who is to be their judge?
Dino knows he is dancing on borrowed time. At some point he has to face his father, explain that he will be staying in Greece, and then he must decide if he will spend his life on the run from the army or whether he will face his obligations and fulfil his military service. He sighs at the prospect. Two years seems a long time.
‘Are you sighing because I exasperate you?’ Michelle asks. Her hand slides across the table and covers his.
‘No.’ He finds a smile.
If she is going to Athens at the end of the week, that is only a change of location, not their situation. He will go with her. The army is a more serious commitment. But she has forgotten; it is probably better that way. They will have these days, live in the moment. Tomorrow might never happen.
‘Come on, then.’ Michelle pulls at his t-shirt.
There is a certain awkwardness as they walk side by side. Dino walks close to her, finding reasons to touch her arm, her shoulder, at one point brushing eucalyptus leaves from her hair. Michelle maintains a slight distance, not completely comfortable in the decision that she has not yet made. But as they wander the alleyways with no particular destination, getting lost, meeting cats, visiting tiny churches, she forgets that she is in conflict and loses herself in his smile, his charm, his ease of just being alive.
They lunch on fresh bread dipped in a pot of local Greek yoghurt, sitting on the steps of a building that has no roof, its doors padlocked to keep inquisitive children safe. They feed the leftover bread to a cat that is more interested in being stroked than eating.
Standing, Dino takes her hand.
‘Come,’ he says.
The lane is very narrow, single file only, and she wonders if they have taken a wrong turn, as farther ahead the way is blocked by a wall. Dino strides on with confidence. As she comes level with it she sees a recessed doorframe that has been painted in red-and-white diagonal stripes. There is no door. An arrow painted on the wall inside the doorframe points up some stairs.
‘I painted that arrow,’ Dino says in passing. Michelle smiles to herself. The steps have dropped at the front edge slightly so she feels that with each tread she could slide backwards. They are thickly painted in grey and the middle of each has been worn smooth, back to the wood. Michelle grips the handrail, which rattles on loose screws. At the top of the steps another door stands open to a room into which light streams from floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the port. Each pane is not large and several have cracks running across them. Two near the bottom have been boarded up. But the view through them is magnificent, the mismatched cracked windows giving the scene the impression of a stained glass replica of the harbour view.
There is a strip of mirror, also floor to ceiling, on one wall by the window, reflecting even more light into the room. Through this Michelle first sees a man’s back. Tall, with neat hair, wide shoulders, narrow hips, perfectly proportioned. He is sweeping the unadorned wooden floor around a single barber’s chair.
‘Panos!’ Dino shouts. The men clash in an embrace. They hold each other, then shake hands, their free hands cupping the other’s elbow. Panos is about to speak when he sees Michelle and pulls away from Dino to be introduced.
‘Welcome.’ He smiles. He has beautiful teeth. All Michelle can think is that if Adonis feels he is the man of the island, he has not met Panos. His smile broadens into a grin. He has a boyish look about him, despite the thin layer of stubble.
His eyes flash backwards and forwards from her to Dino until Dino makes the situation clear by taking her hand. Panos’ response is to grab her by the shoulders and kiss her on each cheek.
‘Ti kani o Markos?’ Dino asks. Michelle recognises that Markos is a name.
‘Kala.’ The voice comes from a curtained-off corner of the room. The material is swept aside, a tiny kitchen uncovered, and a tall man with golden-blond hair steps out. Slinging his tea towel over his shoulder, he too hugs Dino. When he spots Michelle, a questioning look passes across his face and Panos nods.
‘Ahhh, at last,’ he says in English and hugs her. He feels as comfortable to hug as an old friend. He pulls away and slinks over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Panos, who picks up his hand and kisses it.
Michelle cannot help but wonder if Dino has chosen these particular friends to introduce her to because they understand the struggle of non-conforming liaisons. For a moment there is a twinge of offence that Dino likens their relationship to theirs, but Panos and Markos are so easy-going, so warm, and the view over the harbour from their window so enchanting that Michelle slips once again into just living.
That evening outside her room, after another lovely dinner, Dino kisses Michelle again. He has refrained from doing it all day to give Michelle a chance to decide on her feelings, but now that it is time to sleep, he wants her to know where he stands.
The world recedes and he becomes lost, time irrelevant, his hands in her hair, the smell of her skin ….
He pulls away.
‘Goodnight, Michelle.’ He smiles, looking back as he walks to his room. He will not be Adonis; he will not use and discard. He has too much respect for her for that. She looks slightly bewildered, but better that than hurt. They have some time, no need to rush.
Chapter 13
Tuesday
‘You know that cove we scrambled down to yesterday?’ Michelle asks.
‘Um hmm.’ They have come to the port for breakfast, but Dino is still half asleep. His eyes have closed again.
‘Well, I could see another bay along the coast with a sandy beach. Can we get to that?’
‘In a boat.’ Dino shifts his shoulder to get more comfortable.
‘Oh, can we?’
A man at the neighbouring table turns to see who spoke so loudly.
‘Can we what?’ Dino opens one eye and looks at her.
‘Go in a boat?’
‘You tease me. After the last adventure? You would trust me?’
Michelle’s smile fades.
‘It was sad, but it was not your fault.’
‘I was responsible.’
‘No, you weren’t. Don’t burden yourself with that. It was an accident, no one’s fault.’ It strikes Michelle that her words contradict those that she used on the same subject just a day or two ago. They are certainly not the words of a lawyer. She grins and looks around the suntrap of a harbour. The cargo ship is in again and the men unloading are wiping their brows on sleeves. A donkey has been loaded with floorboards. They bury the animal nose to tail and extend another meter again off each end. The donkey seems quite happy carrying its own shade.
‘Look, some things you do not know.’
‘There are many things I do not know but …’
‘OK, we can go if I can tell you something first.’ He raises a hand for water and another coffee. Michelle shakes her head.
‘So tell me.’ Her hair shines in the sun, her neck long and graceful. She has no idea how beautiful she is. He wonders if knowing his secret will change her view of him.
‘You will no longer want to know me.’ He surprises himself with the suddenness of his words. Costas Voulgaris nods his recognition of Michelle when he brings the coffee, and he presents her the bottle of water with a flourish before cruising away to invite a group of Australians for waffles and honey.
Dino bends to the floor and picks a small fragile yellow flower from a clump clustered around the wooden post holding up the tarpaulin shade. He hands it to Michelle and delights in the smile this simple action provokes. It’s nice to make her smile, it makes him feel … he tries to assess how it makes him feel, but he’s not sure, just happy.
‘So tell me.’
The energy seems to drain out of his body.
‘It wasn’t my fault.’ It comes out l
ouder than he expected. He can feel tears pricking his eyes. Quite unexpected, not at all what he bargained for. How can his emotion have changed so suddenly? He blinks them back and bites his inner lip.
‘Hey, hey.’ She leans towards him, puts a hand on his shoulder, with concern in her eyes. He can feel a lump in his throat growing, his eyes stinging, a surge in his chest. He is not going to be able to stop it. He cannot look at her. She puts her arm around him, moving her chair closer. He looks away from her, for an escape, but his legs won’t move, his head throbs, his hands shake. A sound escapes him, from low in his chest, short, sharp. A sob. He needs to leave, to be in private, to gain control. She is watching.
He breathes in and out rapidly and bites the side of his thumb whilst he conjures up the image of Michelle’s smile from a moment before. He regains his dignity, but his eyes are crying by themselves, his nose running.
Michelle takes her arm from around him so she can pull out a serviette from the stack on the table. He takes it but does not use it. Wiping away the tears would be like saying his Mama doesn’t matter. His nose begins to run; he is forced into action, he wipes vigorously. Focusing on the action stems the tears, he blows his nose and sits upright, suddenly, aware how much he is on display.
‘She died. My Mama.’ Dino does not look at Michelle but in his peripheral vision he can sense a movement, a nod of the head, sympathy. A noise distracts him, over by the cargo boat, where the donkeys wait patiently. There is the thud of something dropping on the pier. The cargo men swear.
Michelle has no interest in the boat. Her hand is back around him, and she offers him another tissue. He looks back to her.
‘I would help her. I would pick the herbs for her for the cooking.’ He pauses. He can see his Mama peeling potatoes over the sink and calling to him out of the window for the herbs she needed. She would name them: ‘Dill, coriander, sage’, one by one as he ran his hands along the tops of the plants, neatly lined up in terracotta pots in the courtyard, until he reached the one she wanted. The mix of aromas hanging on his fingers and in the air.
Clutched tightly in his fist, he would bring the bunches in, and she would take his head in both her hands and kiss the top of it. Sometimes her hands were wet from washing vegetables and the water would run over his hair and down his neck in exquisitely cold trickles.
‘She would tell me tales of Pappous, her father. Funny tales about him and his goats.’ He pauses and sniffs, experiencing again the wonder those stories produced, now merging into one as a unified stream. ‘My favourite was when he was taking his billy to a neighbour’s farm to service their does. They both lived over on the mainland.’ He nods in the direction of the blue hills across the water. ‘The goat was a big black animal, with impressive horns, and much in demand.’
‘It was a good five kilometres to his neighbour’s and it was hot, so Pappous did not want to walk. He thought about tying the goat to the back of the tractor and driving slowly, but his tractor had no cab, so he would be in the sun. He thought about taking the bus, but he had tried that before and the driver made a fuss about the mess on the seats. So, in the end, he lifted up the goat and put it in the passenger seat of his car. He would drive him over.
‘Halfway between the two farms is a village, and what with the smell of the goat and the heat of the day, Pappous decided to stop for a ouzo, and one ouzo turned into a game of tavli— backgammon—a coffee or two, and several ouzo chasers. Finally he staggered from the kafenio towards his car, but by this time with no memory of the goat. He was so drunk he could barely see, but he could make out the big dark shape in the car and he panicked. His farm was secluded. Without his car, life would be very difficult, and he had no insurance, so he was very worried about the car being stolen. But he was not a brave man, and even with all that ouzo in him, he did not have the courage to approach that big, dark man in the car. So instead he shouted and screamed that a Turk with a big knife was stealing his car, and he made such a fuss that the men from the kafenio came out to the square to see what the problem was. Among them was the policeman, and together they approached the car. Of course, as he got closer and saw the billy more clearly, he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. So he wished the policeman good day, and went to get in the driver’s side.
‘“Not so fast,” the policeman said. “You know the law. It is illegal to travel with loose animals in your car.” At this Pappous looked offended. “Officer, keep your voice down,” he said, “my Mother-In-Law will think you mean her”, and he nodded at the billy goat, jumped in the car, and drove away.’
But Dino doesn’t laugh, it doesn’t sound so funny today.
Michelle smiles, but it is a smile of kindness. They sit silently and finish their coffees. She does not press him.
‘I cannot tell you here. Come on, if we go we can take Adonis’ boat.’
‘I thought you two had fallen out?’
‘Even if we have, he would not begrudge me the use of his boat.’
They walk along in silence to the smaller harbour, and Dino helps her into a traditional double-ended wooden boat painted in bright colours.
They settle themselves and Dino checks that everything is in order.
‘Are you still sure you trust me to take you?’ he asks.
‘Dino, I cannot keep saying it—it was not your fault.’
‘OK, so you must listen, I will tell you.’ He straightens a coil of ropes in the bottom of the boat. Michelle makes herself comfortable, leaning back against the boat’s wooden side.
‘Mama and I would walk into the hills.’ He speaks slowly, not sure he wants to be telling this. He points to the hills on the far end of the island. ‘Take a basket and gather herbs. She would show me what to gather, and I would go off and gather as much as I could to please her.’ It is becoming hard to swallow again. He blinks.
‘Go on.’ Michelle’s voice is soft, encouraging.
‘So I had the basket with our sandwiches. Mama was a hundred yards away, and I came across some fennel. She loved fennel, especially freshly picked. So as a surprise I opened up her sandwich and filled it with a layer of fennel, thinking I was doing something that would give her pleasure. We continued to gather various herbs and horta, wild edible plants, and then we headed back to the village. When we came in sight of the first house, over on the tops there,’ he indicates the hills in the distance, ‘Mama suggested we eat before we hit “civilisation”, as she called it. She had brought a plastic bag, and in the bag she mixed a salad with the plants we had found. I was hungry and eating fast, and I was halfway through my first sandwich when my friend Zahari came past with his Baba’s herd. I wanted to go with him. I looked at Mama, who smiled and nodded, so I ran off with the animals and my second sandwich. I never ate any of her salad.’
His mouth is dry, and the lump in his throat is making swallowing difficult. He could do with a drink.
‘Go on.’ Michelle’s voice is kind, concerned.
‘That was the last time I saw her.’ He sits silent for a moment looking out to sea. ‘I was gone with Zahari for about three hours, until the goats had their fill and we took them home. She died on the spot where I left her, of poisoning.’
He doesn’t look directly at Michelle, but he can sense her mouth has dropped open, her eyes wide.
She whispers the question. ‘The fennel you had put in her sandwiches?’ Her hand that is not around his shoulders covers her mouth, but there is no accusation in her eyes.
‘They don’t know. They said it looked as if a herd of goats had gone through the area. There was nothing edible left, so there was no way of knowing if it was the herbs I had picked, the salad, or something else, although I was sure what I picked was fennel.’ His eyes flick to her face and back to the table. ‘I blurted out what I had done immediately. The horror inside me was too great to keep it in. But no one ever said it was me; not the doctors, not the police. Baba didn’t say it either, but I could tell, he thinks it.’ His head sinks lower. ‘My memory of th
e day has faded, but Baba, he looks at me in such a way that over the years I think maybe he’s right. Why would he accuse me for so long if it wasn’t true? But I remember double-checking; it smelt right. I was sure it was fennel.’
The last sentences come out in a rush, his feelings so great all he has is a numbness, a weight in his chest, heavy, familiar, almost comforting in the pain it creates.
‘If I had stayed?’ he says and shakes his head. Tears are running down his cheeks. He puts his hand over his face, hiding from the world. Michelle’s arm grows firmer around him.
‘I think you not staying was a good thing. She would not have wanted you to be there.’ That’s it. That is all she says. There is no blame or condemnation from her. And she is a lawyer.
The weight in his chest eases a fraction, making room for his sorrow to intensify, and the tears come again with heavy sobs. He fears being sucked under, that he cannot survive the weight of the grief. His head feels light, as though there is not quite enough oxygen. He sucks in air and shudders as he exhales. He is going under.
They sit silently as the wave of emotion that grips him gradually subsides.
‘Let me tell you of a case I handled,’ she begins. Dino can hardly hear her for the rushing in his ears. Her hand around him doesn’t move. She finds him another tissue; he takes it gratefully and leans into her arm a little.
‘It was a simple case. Over the brow of a hill there was a long straight road, and at the bottom the road curved behind some trees. A girl, let’s give her a name, Sarah, was driving down the hill, and from the top she could see over the dry stone wall to the left, the view of the valley, cows chewing their cud, lambs leaping, the river curling past at the bottom of the field, the whole idyllic scene.’ Michelle uses her free hand to gently push Dino’s fringe to one side so she can look at him for a second.
‘Enchanted by the view, she stopped her car on this long straight strip, tucking it in as close as she could on the verge, to take out her camera so she could capture the scene. This was before mobile phones with cameras.’ She pauses and watches a fish nibble on the algae around a rope dangling in the water.
