The Lace Tablecloth

by Anastasia Gessa-Liveriadis

  She took a few steps up and down the deck and then bent over the rails at the point where the moon’s rays formed a straight silvery line over the waters.

  ‘Do you see that bright line?’ she asked. ‘They say it’s the line of happiness. Nobody can swim inside it because as soon as you get in the water you can’t see it. It changes direction. I presume that’s exactly how happiness is. It calls you but it’s only a mirage: a delusion and nothing more.’

  ‘I know. It’s the same as looking for the start of the rainbow,’ he whispered and took her frozen hand into his, causing an electric current to go through her body. Alarmed, Tasia pulled her hand violently away and took off running. Inside the cabin she vented her anger on Olga, who had not as yet come to bed. This girl has no limits, she thought, seething. I’m not sure if I should continue to be her friend.

  The rhythmic snoring of Yiayia Despo from the opposite lower bunk paused for a moment as she stirred.

  A strange noise woke her up. She climbed down from the bed and ran to Olga who stood leaning over the sink, vomiting and shivering inside her thin nightgown. Tasia placed her palm on Olga’s forehead to support her, embracing her while at the same time steadying her.

  ‘Thank you. I’m better now,’ Olga said and returned to her bed, covering herself from top to bottom.

  But Tasia could no longer sleep. She tossed and turned hitting the ceiling with her elbow every time. It seemed to her the distance between her bed and the ceiling was getting progressively smaller, threatening to crush her. The ancient deities, her baptism at the equator, Tomas, John, George, the music, the dance were all passing through her mind with such speed she couldn’t follow. Now, why on earth did George have to appear? George and the inner turmoil he had caused her? He was nothing more than a dream, a self-created deception. Never again! No. She had learned her lesson. She was never again going to let her heart become the victim of her immaturity. With this thought she drifted off to sleep.

  She woke late. They had all gone to breakfast. She remembered Olga being sick and, very concerned, she got up and rushed to find out how she was feeling now. The brightness of the sun on deck blinded her. She looked around and eventually saw Olga sitting down with a vertical post between her legs and her feet hanging over the frothy waves hitting the side of the ship.

  ‘Be careful! Your shoes might drop in,’ she called.

  ‘So what?’ Olga giggled and let her right shoe slip off her foot and drop into the water below.

  Tasia screamed and made a quick movement, as if trying to catch it.

  ‘Are you insane? What’s come over you?’ she shouted, unable to believe her eyes.

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I am. I’m insane. You’re absolutely right. I’m insane, mad, crazed: crazed with joy and happiness. I drank from the nectar of life and got drunk.’

  Her eyes were shining, her skin red and moist.

  ‘For God’s sake Olga, what’s the matter with you? Are you sick?’ she tried to touch Olga’s forehead, convinced it would be burning with fever.

  ‘I’ve never been so well,’ Olga reassured her. ‘I’m floating on cloud nine.’

  ‘You’ve won a lottery. No, no! It can’t be that. You’re getting married! Yes! That’s it! You want to tell me you’re getting married. Isn’t that so?’

  ‘Yes, that too will happen one day. But the most incredible, the most thrilling thing is that I’ve got his child growing inside me. I’m pregnant, Tasia. I’m pregnant with our child.’

  If Tasia had been struck by lighting she wouldn’t have been so startled. She couldn’t believe her ears. Surely she had heard wrong; surely that’s not what Olga had said. Was it possible Olga could be so fickle, so irresponsible? They had no idea where they were going, or what they were going to face in their new country, and in the midst of all this uncertainty Olga had the audacity to bring a defenceless little baby into it.

  ‘But how? When? How can you be sure? It’s too early to say.’

  ‘I admit I can’t be one hundred per cent sure because it’s early days. But I know how my body works and I recognise the changes. And, in any case, I know I’m pregnant because I want it to be so.’

  ‘And what if he doesn’t stick by you? What if he deserts you?’

  But Olga was looking at her in a strange way, as if lost in a beautiful dream, while reciting passionately the lyrics Πετροβολίστεμε άνθρωποι, βασάνισέ με αράπη στη μαύρη φυλακή. Το φως μου είν’ αβασίλευτο, γνώρισα την αγάπη, σ’ έζησα πια ζωή. (Crowds can now stone me, torture my body jailer inside the dark jail. My light forever will reign. I know now what love is. Life, I have lived you through.)

  She turned to gaze into the distance, beyond the point where the sky meets the sea. A misty veil around her illuminated even more the broad smile on her face. From the corner of her eye Tasia could see John approaching. Pretending to look in a different direction she got up and left.

  Το φως μου είν’ αβασίλευτο, γνώρισα την αγάπη, σ’ έζησα πια ζωή — the verse reverberated in her head. So that’s what love was. Getting to know love meant that you had lived all your life. Why? Why did such intense emotions have to confront her now when she was so fragile and so vulnerable?

  Her heart missed a beat the moment she saw Tomas coming her way. Thank God! Most likely he had decided to overlook her unreasonable behaviour last night or was going to ask for an explanation. After all he didn’t do anything reprehensible to warrant her response. He only showed his concern and care. She didn’t have to scream and run away. What she was scared of were her own internal demons that had awakened and threatened to upset her balance.

  Feeling embarrassed, she sat on an empty bench thinking of what to say the moment he arrived. She was going to apologise and ask him to excuse her on the grounds she was tired, a bit drunk and had lost control.

  The time was passing and there was no sign of him. Tasia concluded he was very angry with her and most likely didn’t want to talk to her again. Tearful and extremely worried she turned her head slightly, hoping to see where he was. She could see him. He wasn’t so far away. He was sitting with a small group of men and women, next to a nice-looking Greek girl and talking to her. That was that then. He didn’t want to have anything to do with her any more and had found a new friend.

  Feeling as if she were one hundred years old she got up and walked away on the shaded part of the deck. A cold breeze on that side had driven people away. Tasia found an empty bench and sat down, doing her best not to cry. A small white cloud very high up on the icy blue sky attracted her attention. It was moving fast, chased by unseen currents. It didn’t take long before many more clouds, small and large, came to join it, all of them moving fast and in the same direction. A strong breeze played with a canopy nearby, then a second, even stronger. All of a sudden the sea swelled, got angry, turned grey, enormous white waves reaching over the rails and splashing on deck. In only a few minutes the sky became leaden black and was so low an outstretched hand could have touched it. Flashes of lighting like fiery serpents ran down from the clouds, only to disappear in the raging sea. The enormous ship was tossed here and there like a pitiful nutshell. One moment it was riding an enormous wave, its bow reaching up to the sky, and the next it was plunging into the depths of the ocean.

  Alarmed, most of the passengers left the deck as fast as they could but Tasia stood there. She hung on tightly with both hands to a pole next to the door and, full of awe, watched the raging outburst of nature. She thought of how easy it would be to let go of the pole, and let her body slide into the frothy waters of the ocean. She had the option to end it all: to let herself go or to hang on and survive. The enormity of that realisation made the soles of her feet tingle, her heart pulsed fast, her muscles got tense like steel and her fingers gripped the pole like a vice. The urge to hang on and survive was competing with the lure to let go.

  Paraly
sed by the ambivalence, Tasia kept hanging there, when two strong hands got hold of her and pulled her under the canopy. Someone had embraced and held her body tight against his broad chest.

  ‘Oh, Tomas!’

  She turned and looked him straight in the eyes, allowing her body to melt into his bosom, bursting into woeful sobs.

  ‘Cry! Cry!’ he urged her and continued to hold her tight. ‘I don’t know why you’re crying but you must need it. It’ll do you good.’

  They were joined in their silence, a silence Tasia could understand better than more than a thousand spoken words. Eventually her body relaxed in his arms, and he pushed her gently towards the door. He turned the handle but found it locked. He took off his coat, placed it around her shoulders and, holding her tightly, led her towards another entrance. The walk was difficult as they were forced to run when the bow dipped in, or to put in extra effort to remain in the same spot when it went high. Eventually, they managed to get out of the rain and reach her cabin.

  ‘Go and change before you catch a cold,’ he advised her. ‘I’ll do the same.’

  She stood in the middle of the empty cabin still feeling the warmth of his body all over her. She took his coat from around her shoulders and looked at it adoringly. Then, she placed it on the bed and touched its lining with tender fingers. A feeling of incredible serenity enveloped her. She had no more questions; she was not searching for any answers.

  The heavy swell continued all night. The constant rolling and pitching of the ship threw the passengers here and there, upsetting their stomachs. As the human body is not made to cope with such violent changes to its centre of gravity every attempt to maintain a shred of dignity is doomed in such circumstances. The passengers were moving around, pale like ghosts and staggering like drunkards. Others were lying on stairs, in corridors or even on deck.

  Tasia was so shattered she couldn’t offer any assistance to the other women in the cabin. With great effort she managed to get on deck and, overcome by nausea, let the upper part of her body hang over the rails, her hands and head hanging out over the waters. A short while later, two hands around her shoulders pulled her back and led her to an empty chair nearby.

  ‘Come, let’s go on the upper deck.’

  As in a dream she could hear his voice and she allowed herself to trust in his care. On the empty upper deck, she lay down on the floor and stretched her arms out on either side to prevent herself from rolling to and fro. The cool breeze dried out her sweat and comforted her. When at some stage she lifted her head to look around she realised she was alone. She saw him coming up the steps, loaded with a flokati and other things.

  ‘Roll over on the flokati,’ he instructed. ‘It’s more comfortable. Take this tablet too. It’ll stop the nausea.’

  He helped her take the tablet and sip a few gulps of water he had brought up with him. ‘There are some dry biscuits too …’

  ‘Later, later,’ she whispered and turned her back to him on the flokati on which he now also lay.

  The ship remained on its course despite the raging waves. When she later opened her eyes, the sky was clear and the sun was hot. She must have slept for hours lying there on the soft rug. She felt revived. At her back she could sense Tomas’ presence. He lay there beside her but without touching her. She could hear him breathe and turn the pages of the book he read.

  Tasia was sure the moment he knew she was awake, he would confide in her all her heart wanted to hear: that he didn’t want to be without her, that he cherished her company, that he loved her.

  As soon as she turned to face him, he closed his book, smiling warmly.

  ‘You had a good sleep. How are you feeling now? Any better?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, much, much better. The pill I took worked like a charm.’

  She lifted herself to a sitting position.

  ‘And you? What did you do? How do you feel?’

  ‘Fine. I read, I was thinking for a while then I read again and thought again. You know, you and I must talk,’ he said with a serious face.

  Her heart jumped in her chest, as she looked at him with anticipation and hope. The answer had already formed in her mind.

  ‘You know,’ he continued, ‘I want to talk to you, to tell you about myself.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Only if you want to.’

  ‘I want to. I want you to know me better, but also to clarify my own thoughts because I admit, I feel a bit confused. I’ll be brief. I’m not going to tire you.’

  ‘Please, I’m waiting.’

  ‘My parents were refugees from Asia Minor, from Smyrna, the big Greek city burnt down by the Turks in 1922.’

  ‘My mother was from Pontos,’ interjected Tasia.

  ‘Then, you know how traumatised these people were after the brutalities they witnessed, how they still lament about the homes and the properties they lost and about their violent uprooting.’

  ‘Oh, yes. My mother was only a small child but still can’t get over it,’ Tasia said.

  ‘My parents were educated and from well-to-do families. My father was a priest and my mother a teacher. But after coming to Greece they faced enormous problems on top of losing two of their young children from tuberculosis.’

  ‘But you are not that old,’ interrupted Tasia.

  ‘Oh, I was born much later, when things had improved. I was brought up with stories of saints and heroes and, of course, the bible. I adored my parents and dreamed of becoming like them. I wanted to become a priest but even a better one than my father. I enrolled into a theological school, aspiring to devote myself to God.’

  ‘My mother had no time for priests and churches. I don’t think she believes in God,’ Tasia butted in.

  ‘Well, I too, very soon became disillusioned. I discovered there was a lot of empty rhetoric, a lot of hot air. Maybe I’ve overreacted because I didn’t feel comfortable in that environment. In any case, I left my studies and had no regrets. I was happy being a farmer. I worked on my late father’s land and was the secretary of our village council.’

  ‘Oh, if only I could be in your position,’ lamented Tasia.

  ‘Look, I’m telling you all this to make you understand that many factors in my life have turned me into a stodgy puritan. I can’t be like most men of my age. I can’t flirt, be witty and frivolous and, in general, I don’t feel comfortable around women.’

  ‘But what about me?’ Tasia wanted to know.

  ‘With you it is different,’ he said looking straight at her. ‘With you I feel comfortable as if you were my sister. I like you and I care about you as I would care about my sister. You must know you can always depend on me.’

  So that’s what it was! Instead of the burning kisses and the tight embraces she was ready to accept, she had found a guardian angel, a protector, a brother. She got up slowly, trying to hold back tears, and smiled sweetly.

  ‘Thank you. I’m glad you feel that way. That’s how I feel about you, too. I feel about you as I would feel about my brother,’

  she said in a voice as natural as she could manage. ‘But I must go now. I’ve been up here for too long,’ she said and took off, running.

  How could one comprehend life’s games? Just think! His feelings towards her were sisterly. That’s how things were. She was crude and unsophisticated, a naive peasant girl. No man could find her desirable because she had no femininity. She fought against it in order to survive. Thanks to her own efforts, she had built a protective cocoon around herself to keep everybody out. Why was she surprised then to hear that Tomas saw her as his sister, rather than as a woman? That’s what she had tried to achieve all her life: remove every trace of her femininity.

  Every time someone complimented her on her looks she felt angry, believing her looks were due to the generosity of nature and had nothing to do with her efforts. She was angry because nobody ever complimented her on her knowledge, her discipline, her learning and her achievements, all her own doing. During the course of her life she had managed to subordina
te her most fundamental needs to a high, a loftier level, neglecting the ordinary and the everyday. Why, then, did she felt so shocked to hear Tomas speak to her in that way? What had changed? Was it possible she was playing charades all these years, that her whole moral stance was nothing more that a sham and a pretence?

  In the same way as the passengers were abandoned to the sinister playfulness of the powerful sea, some of the young men — on assisted passage — were left to the whims of the Australian authorities. Twelve men, John among them, were notified two days before the ship berthed at the first Australian port they had to disembark at Fremantle and start work in the mines in Western Australia.

  The news hit John and Olga like a thunderbolt. In vain, John appealed to those in authority, explaining his particular predicament and begged them to allow him to continue to Melbourne.

  Realising how little time they still had together, John and Olga kept to themselves, living every remaining precious second as intensely as they could. As Tasia knew of their secret she kept discreetly at a distance to give them the opportunity to be alone with each other as much as possible. The morning John was to leave she stayed on deck taking care of his luggage, while the two lovers were left in the cabin alone. The ship had already berthed at the port, giving her a glimpse of her new country. Despite her best intentions Tasia had problems accepting this country as her own. I’ll be here two or three years at the most, she thought. Only two or three years and then I’ll go back to help my parents and my brother. In front of her she could see some strange trees, a row of identical houses with red roofs and fenced gardens, and green hills further back in the distance.

  Time was moving on. With five whole hours at their disposal some passengers were already down on the pier waiting to take the bus to Perth, eager to have a look at an Australian city. A smaller bus waited nearby for the twelve young men who had to stay and work there.