by Lena Manta
Aspasia was delighted with her success that evening and smiled broadly at the owner of the club, who asked her if they could talk later. His proposal was clear: he wanted her to sing every night at the club for a salary that made her jaw drop. She’d never had money of her own and now she was being given the opportunity to do something she loved as well as make money she could use however she liked. Of course, there was the issue of Stavros. He most certainly wouldn’t be pleased with the proposition, but Aspasia had made up her mind to do battle.
They fought for three days, their voices echoing all over the house. Kyria Stella crossed herself and left with the children so they wouldn’t hear their parents quarreling. The situation reached an impasse; the atmosphere was unbearable but Aspasia was adamant. When Stavros started sleeping on the sofa, his mother realized she had to intervene. She went to see her son at his office, where they would be alone.
“Sit down, son, because we need to talk,” she ordered him quietly and he obeyed.
“What have you come to say to me, Mama?” he asked. “Don’t you know what’s going on? Don’t you hear?”
“I came because I hear and I understand.”
“So what can I do? Shall I let my wife sing and have men hitting on her? It’s not a job for a married woman with two children!”
“I won’t say that you’re wrong, Stavros, but you must understand that you can’t do anything but give in.”
“What are you saying?”
“That Aspasia will do it with or without your permission. I’ve never seen her like this.”
“But what’s got into her?”
“I think she had the desire to sing in her long before you met her, but when she met you and had children she put it aside. But you can’t hold on to her now, son. If you try, you’ll destroy your home.”
“And if I do let her go and become a singer, won’t that destroy our home?”
“Maybe it will, and maybe it won’t. I’m not saying that things are simple, but if you insist on saying no, she’ll leave you. Perhaps if she gets into that party world, she’ll tire of it at some point and decide that it’s better for her to stay home.”
The discussion with his mother got Stavros thinking. He had to admit that she was right. Aspasia seemed determined not to give in but his male egotism wouldn’t allow him to back down. Meanwhile, the club owner was pressuring Aspasia. For years he’d been looking for a good singer who was also beautiful, and this particular girl was all that. He’d make a lot of money with her, he was sure. He couldn’t wait to get started, so when Aspasia delayed, he generously increased his offer.
For the good of everyone involved, a compromise was finally struck. Kyria Stella tactfully suggested to her daughter-in-law that she propose working half time at the club on a trial basis until the summer. This gave Stavros a way to end the crisis without completely backing down.
The first day she got up on the stage, Aspasia’s legs trembled a little and her hands were sweaty as she held the microphone. But after the first song, when the tips began to collect in front of her, she let fly, singing the biggest hits of the season and delighting everyone in the room. Nobody, especially his wife, mentioned to Stavros that after her set, as was customary, she sat at a number of different tables to drink with the customers and increase the amount they spent.
Before long, Aspasia was in great demand. At the club, her high spirits seemed tireless, and the late nights didn’t seem to bother her at all. At home, though, things were different. On the evenings that she worked and got home at dawn, she slept all the next day, and on the days that she didn’t work, she didn’t seem to have any appetite for life. The children were no longer among her priorities. If it hadn’t been for their grandmother, the little girls would have been growing up almost entirely on their own.
As the days passed, Stavros clenched his teeth harder and his mother grew bitter, but Aspasia didn’t see any of it. She only lived for the hours when she was working; nothing else mattered anymore. As she was oblivious to the small-town gossip that centered on her, she had no idea how difficult it was for her husband to restrain himself when he heard the rumors about the crazy parties she attended each night. Nor was she aware of the embarrassment she caused her mother-in-law. Wherever Kyria Stella went, conversations were quickly cut off so that she understood they’d been discussing how she raised her son’s children while her daughter-in-law sang and had a good time nearly every night at the bouzouki club.
When she got up on the stage, Aspasia saw people singing and having fun with her, she heard the applause caressing her ears, and her heart swelled with joy. When she saw the plates smashed for her, a traditional show of appreciation and celebration, she felt like a queen on an invisible throne. When she saw the boxes of champagne that the waiters brought onto the stage and heard the pop of a cork and saw the golden liquid filling a glass, she thought this was her destiny in life. She was born for this work. She no longer wrote to her mother. Rather than tell lies, she preferred silence.
Just before Easter, Aspasia was offered a summer gig at a club in Rhodes, along with a very high fee. Elated, she hurried to accept it before she talked with Stavros. She knew he’d just refuse, and she had no intention of backing down. The confrontation was intense and this time even her mother-in-law lost patience. Faced with a united front of mother and son, Aspasia dug her heels in even more. The words she exchanged with Stavros were the worst that had ever been spoken in the house.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Stavros declared for at least the tenth time.
Aspasia looked at him derisively. “If you think you’re the sultan and I’m a slave for you to order around, think again. I’m a free person, Stavros. I can do what I want.”
“You’re a married woman and you’ve got duties. How dare you ask me to go away for a whole summer?”
“But I’m not asking you,” Aspasia answered calmly. “I’m simply telling you that they’re offering me a really good job, the pay is very high, and I’m going.”
“So, in other words, you’re defying me?”
“When you tell me that you’re going to Tripoli to transport goods, are you asking my permission? No. You simply announce that your work is sending you there and you go. Well, my work is sending me to Rhodes.”
“That’s different!”
“Don’t tell me that a woman’s place is in the home, because I’ll tell you to go and look at a calendar. We’re living in the twentieth century, not the nineteenth. Anyway, you don’t seem to mind the money I make too much.”
“To hell with the money! Don’t you realize you’ve destroyed our home? The children hardly see you—my mother is bringing them up. Even when you are home, you might as well be away. And now you tell me you’re going to be gone for three whole months. You’ve really lost it!”
“Is that what annoys you, that I’m not home? Or is it the fact that I earn more money than you do and have more success?”
“You should be ashamed of yourself for saying things like that, Aspasia. Wake up before it’s too late! Where is the woman I married? We dreamed about a family, remember?”
“Fine. I made you a family; I had two children—what more do you want?”
“I want you. But in your place. And with your head on straight!”
“My head is just fine! As for my place, I finally found it, and I have no intention of returning to your service. If you want a servant, you should hire one. But I’m a woman, Stavros, and I’m clever. I’m going to achieve what I always dreamed of.”
“Aspasia, do you love me?” Stavros suddenly asked.
Surprised by the question, she hesitated.
Stavros pressed on. “I’m asking you something. Can’t you answer?”
“What sort of question is that now?”
“A very simple one, if your feelings are clear.”
“Of course I love you. What’s that got to do with what we’re talking about?”
“If you love someone, you want to be wi
th them as much as possible and you try not to upset them. Instead, you and I are becoming strangers, and every day you fill me with bitterness!”
“It’s the same for me. You know that I love what I do and despite that, you put pressure on me to give it up. Why do you do that? Because I’m a woman? If it was your work that sent you far away I’d have to sit quietly and wait for you, however long you were gone, without complaining. But you don’t do that. With the money I’m making we’ll be able to buy the house we’ve dreamed of a little sooner, but your masculine ego won’t let you accept that. You don’t see that singing is a job like any other.”
“Aspasia, things aren’t that simple. You have two children. What will happen to them while you’re gone?”
“I have faith in your mother. Don’t you?”
“This isn’t about my mother but the children. They need their mother, don’t you understand? My mother is getting old; she can’t take care of two small children for so many months.”
“Would you prefer that I take them with me?”
“Are you out of your mind? How would you look after them? You work at night and sleep all day!”
“I’ll find a woman there.”
“So you’re not even thinking about the possibility of not going to Rhodes? Instead, why don’t you take the children to your village for a while and see your family—give Theodora a chance to get to know her grandchildren.”
“Are you crazy, Stavros? I’m supposed to pass up the opportunity I’ve been offered and go ruin myself in the village instead?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Aspasia. You’re walking with mathematical precision toward a catastrophe and you don’t want to see it. You’re destroying our marriage.”
“Wrong! You’re destroying it with your nonsense. We’re doing fine and you’re trying to spoil it.”
“We’re fine? How do you figure that? Do I even have a wife anymore?”
“That’s not what you were saying yesterday or the day before, I believe,” Aspasia said sarcastically.
Stavros looked at her with disappointment. “A marriage isn’t only about sex, Aspasia. If you don’t understand that, you can’t understand anything anymore. I’m sorry.”
Stavros left the room quietly but this time Aspasia didn’t cry, nor did she regret anything. Instead she began to pack.
Aspasia was as successful in Rhodes as she’d been in Kalamata, only now she felt different. Living on her own for the first time, she had a unique sense of freedom. She didn’t have to account to anyone for her movements, nor did she have to hurry home to duties awaiting her. She’d spend all night partying with the musicians, then join them for morning coffee afterward. Often she didn’t get to bed before noon. Her communications home were rare. They didn’t have a telephone in the house, so she’d call Stavros at his office, and occasionally he’d bring the children with him so they could speak to her too. That summer was the best of her life. She learned to swim—something she had always wanted to do—and enjoyed the sea with all her senses.
Stelios appeared in her life just two weeks after her arrival on the island. He was a customer at the club and from the beginning he was drawn to the beautiful singer. He was about forty, presentable, very rich, and determined to win her. From the first evening that she caught his eye, the fuss he caused in the club was impressive. Aspasia’s boss told her that she’d hit the jackpot with this one, but she just smiled cynically; this man wasn’t the first and he wouldn’t be the last, she said. Before long, she’d run out of space in her dressing room for all the bouquets Stelios sent. When the flowers weren’t enough to persuade her, he began to send her jewelry, which she politely but firmly returned.
Still, he’d achieved what he wanted. In spite of her refusals, Aspasia often found herself thinking about the man who threw a fortune at her feet every night. She’d gone to his table once after the steady siege that had gone on for so many days. It impressed her that he had behaved like a real gentleman, without any crude suggestions, and she didn’t have to cunningly avoid his hands, as she’d had to do with others. He bought her a drink, asked politely about her impressions of Rhodes, and offered to give her a guided tour of the island whenever she wished.
Aspasia kept her defenses up for as long as she could. The thought of Stavros held her back and reminded her that although she was living like a single woman, she wasn’t one. She had a husband and two children and she had come to Rhodes to work, not to get mixed up in an affair. So she avoided the charming Stelios as much as she could.
That morning she was enjoying the sun and the sea as they drove every thought from her mind. A little while earlier she had spoken to Stavros and they had argued again. He’d complained that she didn’t communicate regularly with him, and accused her of not caring about anything except singing. He’d also questioned her, not very tactfully, about her other activities on Rhodes, and Aspasia had ended the conversation by hanging up on him. Suddenly she was aware of a presence beside her and she turned around angrily, but as soon as she saw Stelios smiling at her she sat up, quite uneasy.
“What are you doing here?” she inquired.
“Do you have to ask? It’s summer, it’s warm, it’s paradise here. And this particular paradise has an angel who interests me.”
Aspasia had to admit to herself that he was a very handsome man. “Yes, but the . . . angel you are talking about wants to enjoy the sun and the sea in peace,” she answered flatly.
“So? Who’s stopping you, gorgeous? If you don’t want to we won’t speak at all. I only want to look at you.”
“That’s all?” she asked sarcastically.
“I could tell you the rest, but I’m afraid I’d shock you.”
“So don’t do it,” she said sharply. “Stelios, we need to talk, and talk seriously.”
“I’m listening.” Stelios sat down next to her and looked at her with interest.
“You have to understand that I came to Rhodes to work and not to get mixed up with someone.”
“And am I stopping you from doing your work?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand, please. What you don’t know is that back in Kalamata are my husband and two children. I have two daughters.”
“May you enjoy them—and your husband! What do I have to do with them?”
“Nothing. But you do want to have something to do with me. And I’m explaining to you that it can’t happen.”
“In my life I’ve discovered that everything can happen. You just have to want it.”
“Yes, but I don’t want it. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“But sweetheart, I didn’t say I wanted to separate you from your husband. You’re a stranger here. You’ll only stay for a while. Is it a bad thing for us to spend time together? Have I asked for anything more?”
“The truth is that . . . you did behave like a gentleman when we spoke at the club.”
“So? Do you want me to be your guide for however long you’re here? Rhodes is really beautiful and nobody can show it to you better than someone who knows it like the back of his hand.”
“All right then. But be careful. I can only be your friend.”
“I never take anything unless it’s given to me,” Stelios said quietly, and his gaze met hers.
Aspasia felt something strange inside her, as if a small alarm was ringing, but she chose to ignore it.
Stelios kept his word. With him, Aspasia got to know and love Rhodes. The Palace of the Knights in the old city enchanted her, even though she was tired from the hours of sightseeing. Stelios teased her, saying that no one goes on a tour wearing high heels. But Aspasia hesitated to take them off and walk barefoot beside him. The village of Afandou reminded her a little of her village, invisible as its name suggested, and deliberately built not to be seen from the sea. They passed through it on their way to Lindos, where Aspasia loved the white houses and courtyards paved in pebbles from the beach.
The little harbor of Agios Pavlos, where
, according to the locals, Apostle Paul disembarked when he arrived to teach Christianity, looked like a painting by a great artist. In its calm waters, boats and small craft were anchored, and Stelios let Aspasia admire them at leisure while he observed every movement, every expression of her face. This woman was really his type. And the fact that she wasn’t like all the other singers who were immediately flattered by his interest and succumbed eagerly to him made her still more desirable. She didn’t seem to be impressed either by the gifts he sent her, or by the money he spent on her, or by his very expensive car. Her eyes lit up only when he told her the historical details of someplace interesting he was showing her. As the days passed and nothing in her behavior toward him changed, he became more determined.
It was inevitable that everyday contact and the endless walks would lead Aspasia to open up more to Stelios, but she was surprised at how easily she could speak to him about herself. Stelios listened to her with genuine interest, while keeping his word and behaving only like a friend. Eventually, she found herself waiting impatiently for their daily trips, and one night, when he didn’t come to the club, she realized she was disappointed. The two had fallen into the habit of comfortably chatting each evening in the cozy warmth of her dressing room, and his absence spoiled her mood.
The next day she waited for him for their daily walk but again he didn’t appear. She went by herself to the beach but she took no pleasure in it. On the contrary, she spent most of her time looking around her in case she saw him. Finally she left in disappointment, went back to the boardinghouse she was staying in, ate very little, and lay down to rest. But it was no use. She gave up and started walking up and down in her room, full of irritation. She went to the club in a bad mood and the other employees, who’d been working with her for a month now, were surprised; they’d never seen her like that.
When Stelios didn’t appear at the club that night either, Aspasia nearly wept. For the first time, singing seemed unbearable, the high spirits of the customers disgusted her, and the hundreds of plates they smashed only provoked repugnance and more irritation. Afterward, the room she was staying in seemed particularly small and suffocating. She was surprised at herself but she had to admit that she missed Stelios terribly. Unfortunately, she had no idea where to find him.
