The House by the River

by Lena Manta

  Aspasia looked her husband in the eye. Then she turned to Stella and took her in her arms. She sang her a lullaby for a while as she had done when she was a baby, then she laid her back down on the bed, covered her up, and kissed her tenderly. She left the room with her head high.

  An hour later Stavros came out.

  “She’s gone,” was all he said.

  Aspasia blinked as if she’d been shot, then collapsed at his feet.

  It could have been a nightmare but it wasn’t. They came back home, a sad trio with a coffin, all of them tragic and white. Stella would be laid to rest beside her grandmother. All of Kalamata attended the burial, but Aspasia had never made friends in all the years she had lived in this town, so no one felt comfortable enough to approach her and offer a few words of comfort.

  Stavros, on the other hand, was surrounded. Even Kyrios Alekos came with his wife and daughter. As the procession moved toward Stella’s gravesite, people offered the grieving father their support and hugged Theodora as she huddled beside him. All the while, Aspasia walked alone, looking straight ahead, her eyes red from crying.

  She was almost startled when she felt a warm hand squeezing her own. As she came to her senses, she turned and saw her youngest daughter.

  Theodora had been scanning the crowd for her mother, and when she saw her walking alone, she went to her. Mother and daughter looked at each other and Aspasia pulled her child close and hugged her in despair. From then on, Theodora didn’t leave her mother’s side. When the white box disappeared into the earth, Aspasia broke down, and if it hadn’t been for Theodora she would have fallen into the great hole that had been opened to receive her firstborn. The little girl embraced her mother with all her strength and called her father for help. Stavros pulled himself from Kyrios Alekos’s arm and ran to his daughter. The two of them managed to hold Aspasia back as she howled in pain. A few minutes later she fainted in their arms and despite all their efforts, she didn’t regain consciousness. They took her to the hospital, where the doctors said it was the result of severe shock.

  Aspasia remained in the hospital for two days. When she finally returned home, as soon as she stepped inside, painful memories of her child returned with even greater intensity. When she burst into pitiful crying, Stavros gave her a strong sedative and made her lie down, just as the doctors had ordered. A week later she was still hovering between semiconsciousness and reality. Theodora stayed with a neighbor, whose daughter was a friend of hers, but she asked for her mother every day. Stavros finally realized they were doing more harm to the child by keeping her away and brought her home. Before that, though, he spoke to Aspasia.

  “Aspasia,” he said softly. “Drink your coffee—it’ll make you feel better. We have to talk.”

  She gave him a confused look and nodded her head. Then she drank her coffee with slow sips. “Give me a cigarette,” she said in a broken voice.

  Without saying a word, Stavros lit a cigarette and put it in her mouth. Aspasia took a long drag, coughed a little, then continued to smoke without speaking.

  “You’ve started smoking?” he asked, more to say something than out of interest.

  “Yes, in Patras,” she answered.

  Silence fell on the room again. Stavros took a deep breath and Aspasia finally looked at him with clear eyes.

  “You told me you want us to speak,” she said. “What do you want to tell me?”

  “Aspasia, you have to get over this, and you have to do it quickly.”

  “Do you think that’s easy? I lost my child! How can I recover?” She began to cry again.

  Stavros looked at her sympathetically for a moment, but then slapped his hand loudly on the table. Aspasia sat up, frightened.

  “What do you think it was like for me? Wasn’t she my child too?” He raised his voice. “But in case you don’t remember, I must remind you that we have another child.”

  Aspasia looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. “Where is Theodora?” she asked softly.

  “She’s at Aphrodite’s house. But what am I saying? How would you know who Aphrodite is? Did you ever bother to find out who her friends are? Did you ever concern yourself with anything to do with her?”

  “Stavros, please! I know I wasn’t a perfect mother—”

  “You weren’t a mother at all!”

  Aspasia looked at him with a wounded expression. She lowered her head and broke into sobs again. When she spoke, her voice could hardly be heard. “Yes, I’m to blame for everything. I left you . . . the children . . . I never had time for them, and now Stella’s gone and I can’t do anything to make it right. Why didn’t God take me, Stavros? Why the child?”

  Stavros looked at her bitterly. “We don’t choose. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that, Aspasia. It’s not the time to relive the past. We have to think of Theodora. She’s only a child, and her sister’s death has hurt her much more than us. I sent her to stay with her friend because you were in such a state but she’s asking for you—she’s afraid she’ll lose you too.”

  “You’re right. Go and get her.”

  “I can’t do that when you’re in this state. That’s why I said you must pull yourself together. We must put our pain to one side and look after the child. We must help her get over it. Life has to go back to normal. School starts soon. How can she go like this? Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but how can I pretend that I’m all right? I can’t laugh as if nothing happened.”

  “I’m not asking you to do anything like that. I’m asking you to take our child in your arms and comfort her, and through the child we’ll comfort ourselves. At the least, you owe her that. You’ve always ignored her. The small amount of time you devoted to the children always went to Stella first.”

  “And she was the very one I lost,” Aspasia said in a low voice.

  “Yes, but it’s not Theodora’s fault that she lived and Stella died.”

  “You shouldn’t have said that!” Aspasia’s anger flared.

  Stavros was almost glad to see his wife angry. Anything was better than the apathy that the tranquillizers only increased. “Prove to me that I’m wrong, then,” he said. “Support your child as she deserves. For once in your life, be a good mother!”

  Aspasia looked at him intently and then got up. Before she left the room she said, “Bring her to me at lunchtime.”

  That afternoon, when Stavros returned to the house with their daughter, he was very anxious. He didn’t know what state he’d find his wife in, despite her promise that morning. As he closed the front door behind him, he looked around. The house appeared to have been cleaned and there was a smell of cooking in the air. He didn’t dare believe it. Suddenly, Aspasia appeared. She’d had a bath and tied up her hair with a black ribbon, and her eyes were no longer red. Stavros also detected a little makeup on her face to hide the pallor. He noticed how thin she’d become—she’d needed a belt to pull in her black dress—but her face radiated a calm that he hadn’t seen in years.

  Theodora looked at her mother with longing, but didn’t know what she should do, so she simply stood still beside her father. When Aspasia opened her arms, the little one ran and hid herself in the warm embrace. Aspasia could feel her daughter’s heart beating fast. She pulled back and looked at her as if she was seeing her for the first time. She stroked her blond hair, which was just like her own, and her fingers wandered over the girl’s beautiful face, like a blind person whose touch has replaced her sight. As the girl looked delightedly at her mother, Aspasia hugged her again and cursed herself. What a crime she’d committed all these years! How could she have ignored one of her own children? Even little Stella, who Aspasia had had such a weakness for, had never gotten all the love she deserved. Aspasia swore she’d be a better person from now on, in every way she could.

  A discreet look from Stavros brought her to herself. She smiled at her daughter. “We lost track of time,” she said to her tenderly. “And Daddy is probably hungry. Come, wash your hands and I
’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen.”

  Theodora left quickly and Stavros followed her.

  “A good performance!” he said drily on his way out.

  Aspasia looked at him, wounded. “What performance? What are you talking about?”

  “All that affectionate behavior and the hugs and caresses—what was that? I didn’t expect so much coming from you. And don’t tell me that you suddenly discovered some motherly instincts. In any case, I have to admit, it was good for the child.”

  They didn’t manage to say anything else because Theodora came into the room, sat down, and began to eat hungrily. From time to time she looked at her mother, who had to make a big effort to swallow a few mouthfuls. Aspasia understood that she would need all her strength from now on. She may have begun to win her child back, but she had more work to do if she wanted to regain her husband’s trust.

  Stavros looked at Despina, who was sitting opposite him and watching him without speaking. “I’m not very good company,” he murmured.

  “I wasn’t just looking for company when I called,” she said. “I wanted to see you—to speak to you and find out how you are.”

  “And in the end we’re sitting here not talking.”

  “Even that, if it helps you feel better, is good.”

  He never expected that Kyrios Alekos’s daughter would return to Kalamata to see him a month after little Stella’s death, but here she was. In keeping with custom, they had planned a memorial service several weeks after the burial. As the date approached, the atmosphere in his house had become heavy again. Aspasia was making ambitious efforts to stand on her feet again and help Theodora, but Stavros questioned how long this change would last. His wife got up early every morning, prepared breakfast for everyone, and went out with her daughter. For the very first time, she’d bought her all her school supplies and spent hours covering textbooks and decorating exercise books. She wrote Theodora’s name with pretty lettering on the labels and did everything else a mother did in those days. The child thought she was dreaming. Yet often, without an obvious reason, Theodora closed herself off and hardly spoke. Even then, though, Aspasia stayed close to her and invented dozens of excuses to draw the child out of her isolation and silence.

  At the same time Aspasia had transformed herself into a perfect wife. She cooked food that she knew Stavros liked, she always asked him about his work when he came home at lunchtime, and when he had a very busy day and couldn’t come home at midday, she took food to his office. In the evenings she sat with him but not close. Stavros had to admit that she was very tactful. She never touched him, even by accident, and she never asked to return to his room. This new Aspasia, however, frightened him even more. All this obedience, this desire to be useful, to do everything before she was asked, made him anxious at first. Then it became annoying.

  Stavros became angrier and angrier with her. He spoke to her nastily and dismissively, but never in front of the child. As long as Theodora was with them their exchanges were polite, but as soon as the child said good night and went to her room, Stavros’s expression darkened. He avoided looking at his wife and answered her only in monosyllables until Aspasia understood and stopped talking.

  Despina’s visit made Stavros feel better. She had also changed a lot. The carefree young girl who had dreamed of adventure had been transformed into a beautiful woman, calm and always smiling. He watched her again as she absentmindedly drank her coffee.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  “I was just trying to think of a subject that would interest you so that we could talk about it,” she answered, smiling. “But my brain isn’t being very cooperative with me today.”

  “I suppose I’m not very helpful either. My daughter’s memorial service is in a few days, and I can’t think of anything else.”

  “That’s not surprising. How is Theodora?”

  “Much better . . . school has helped her forget.”

  “And Aspasia?”

  “Despina, please, let’s not talk about Aspasia.”

  “All right. What do you want us to talk about?”

  “About you! You haven’t told me anything about your life during all the years since we last saw each other. How is your husband?”

  “I think he’s fine. We separated, you know.”

  Stavros’s eyes opened wide. He sat up and looked at her with interest. “You separated? When? Your father never said anything to me.”

  “It wasn’t long ago. Officially, that is. Unofficially things weren’t going well for a long time.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it, or is it still too painful?”

  “No! Not anymore. Besides I share a lot of the blame. I thought I wanted something and when I found it, I realized I had made a mistake. I thought that a carefree life suited me. I thought we’d travel together all over the world, but I soon got tired of it. I wanted a family and he didn’t. His love for the sea was greater.”

  “You didn’t have children?”

  “I tried, but I miscarried. And then he didn’t leave anything to chance—you understand? He made it plain that he didn’t want children. He was gone for months on end, and when he came back he wanted me to be like the lovers he found in the ports, and to live the life they had lived there. We ended up arguing every time he came back and after every argument he stayed away longer.”

  Despina’s confession made Stavros relax, and he suddenly found himself talking about his marriage, telling her every detail. His voice was flat and he kept his eyes fixed on his hands that were constantly holding a cigarette. He didn’t hide anything from her and often Despina was embarrassed by the frankness of his descriptions. When he finished, he realized how much he’d said and was ashamed.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, still looking down. “I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

  “When my husband left me for months at a time, I made a lot of mistakes too. I thought that nothing could surprise me, but I have to confess that I’m shocked. Aspasia seems to have gone further than me, given the fact that she had two children. And now? Where are you now?”

  “Nowhere. Since Stella’s death, she’s changed into a perfect mother, a model wife, an admirable housekeeper. Do you believe it?”

  “The important thing is, do you believe it?”

  “No, not anymore. I don’t believe anything about her. In the past, she made some efforts too—not a lot, but some—but after a while, she’d always get bored again and her other life would drag her far away from us. I won’t suffer through that again. I’m finished with Aspasia for good. Whatever she says, whatever she does, I won’t ever believe that she’s truly changed.”

  “And what if it is like it seems? If the death of your child was such a big blow that it managed to sweep all the bad things out of her? If it’s as you say, it’s as if she’s asking forgiveness, as if she wants you to start over.”

  “I don’t know, Despina,” Stavros answered. “Aspasia has managed to make me forget all the beautiful moments we shared together. Now, when I see her, I don’t feel anything.”

  Despina tried to soothe him. “It’s early. You’ll see yet that slowly, one of you will approach the other,” she said.

  The memorial service was an agonizing event that scratched still-open wounds. This time Aspasia held back her emotions with superhuman effort. Her first concern was Theodora. Holding her tightly by the hand, she cried quietly without letting out any sounds so that the child wouldn’t be frightened. Immediately after they came back from the church service she gave her something to eat, put her to bed, and sat beside her until she saw her eyes close. Only when she was sure that the child was fast asleep, exhausted by the ordeal, did she go out into the garden, despite the fact that it was raining hard. There she wept for the child she had lost. Her lament joined the sound of the thunder as she knelt in the mud, begging God to give her the strength she would need.

  No one knew how hard Aspasia had struggled in recent weeks to regain her
peace of mind. She’d faced her mistakes quite honestly. She’d counted them and was shocked by the number, but she didn’t hurry to justify them as she had once done. Instead, she remembered every detail, and if it hadn’t been for Theodora, she would have condemned herself to death. It would have been quite easy to end the life that she herself had wasted so far, but doing so would have further injured her one remaining daughter. Suicide would only add to the desertions and irresponsibility Aspasia had exhibited in the past.

  She got up, covered in mud, and went inside to clean herself up. When she came out of the bathroom, she was the calm Aspasia, her eyes still red from crying, but determined to go on without any more mistakes. Despite her husband’s cold demeanor lately, she was hopeful she could persuade him that it was worth the trouble to rebuild their family for the sake of Theodora.

  When Stavros returned that evening, Aspasia dared to approach him and kiss him on the cheek but was frightened by his response. He pulled away abruptly and gave her a hostile look.

  “Don’t do that again!” he shouted. “Don’t touch me ever again!”

  Aspasia looked at him, hurt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t do it to harm you. I felt the need to kiss you without any ulterior motive.” She was close to crying but held on to herself.

  “It doesn’t matter to me why you did it,” Stavros said, still angry. “But I’m asking you not to do it again because you’re not going to like the way I respond. And you should know that having you in this house is very difficult, but I’m doing it for the child. Don’t make me do something that I’ll regret. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes. I didn’t realize you felt like that. Now that I know I’ll stay away. But I thought . . .”

  “What did you think? That I believe the act you put on with the child? That I’m so stupid that I believe that you’ve become a human being again? No, Aspasia. I know you too well.”

  Aspasia looked at him in horror. “Is that what you think of me, Stavros?” she asked in a voice that came out with difficulty. “Then there’s no hope for us. I must leave.”