The House by the River

by Lena Manta

  “Ha! So you’ve found an excuse now? You’ve gotten tired of playing the good mother and the model wife so quickly? Who’s made you an offer? Who are you in a hurry to fall into the first bed you see with? Will it be in Rhodes? In Crete? Maybe in Patras? Or maybe you’ll set sail for somewhere else? Greece is full of bouzouki clubs . . . and beds.”

  “It can’t be you who’s talking like this,” she responded calmly. “Once you loved me and even I, who made all the mistakes, loved you. And I still love you. We lost our child and you think I want to leave to sing? I’m finished with all that. I’m really sorry that I did what I did, but I can’t turn back time and wipe it all out. I can make a new start, though.”

  But Stavros just continued his tirade. “You might try the theater now. You have a talent for that. Leave me, Aspasia, and stop thinking you can fool me! The Stavros you knew doesn’t exist anymore. Your victim, which is what I was, can’t be persuaded this time. And if I decide to take you back when you return, know that it’s for the child. Even a useless mother is better than nothing.”

  Stavros left and didn’t come back all night. In the morning, Aspasia lied to their daughter, telling her that her father had left very early for work.

  Despina stared at Stavros with an expression that seemed to be scolding him. “I think that you overdid it,” she said. “You shouldn’t speak to her like that.”

  “You don’t know how I felt when she came up to me and kissed me. She doesn’t hold anything sacred, that woman! A few hours after the memorial of our child and she . . .”

  “First of all, I don’t think she had anything calculating in mind when she kissed you on the cheek. You’re exaggerating. You’re not the only one who’s mourning the child; she’s a mother and what’s more she must have a lot of guilt.”

  “Aspasia feel guilty? Despina, you’re a very good person at heart.”

  “I’m just more detached than you and I see things more clearly. Aspasia is suffering and she’s suffering a lot. But for you to react like that means that your wife has the power to really upset you, even with an innocent touch. You love her, Stavros, and you’d better accept it.”

  “It’s not love, Despina, it’s a sickness. She arouses me, but in the wrong way. When she kissed me and I felt her near me, it didn’t evoke love and affection but something else. An animal instinct. I wanted to fall on her and humiliate her, to make her feel what I felt for so many years. And then I got angry. I was angry most of all with myself. I don’t like the person I become when I’m near her. Do you understand?”

  Despina covered his hand with hers and Stavros immediately seemed to calm down. The lines of his face softened. After the fight with Aspasia, he’d left the house so as not to do something bad. He drove like crazy and without understanding how, he found himself knocking on Despina’s hotel room door, even though it was late. She opened it right away—it was obvious she hadn’t been asleep. She gave him a drink and listened attentively. Before long, he was sleeping in her bed while she watched him tenderly.

  When he woke up the next morning Stavros looked around him in surprise. “Did I sleep here?” he asked in embarrassment.

  She smiled at him. “Don’t worry! You were a gentleman. Whatever I did, I didn’t manage to drag you into debauchery.”

  “Now you’re making me feel even worse.”

  “Not a bit! Last night you were worse. Now I see you looking fine. And I’m quite serious! You came here in an awful state. You told me what happened. I gave you a drink and you slept soundly all night.”

  “Despina, I’m sorry if I bothered you. I didn’t know where to go last night.”

  “You did the right thing to come here. That’s what friends are for. Come on now, get up and we’ll have some coffee before you leave for work.”

  “I don’t feel like working today,” he said, rubbing his still tired eyes. “What time will you leave today?”

  “To go where?”

  “Home, I suppose.”

  “I think I’ll stay a little longer in Kalamata. I like it here, and what’s more I have a friend who probably needs me.”

  Stavros looked gratefully at her. They spent that day together. They went for a long walk around town, then ate dinner at a quiet little restaurant. Afterward, Stavros finally went home to see his daughter.

  Theodora welcomed him lovingly. “Where were you all day, Daddy? I missed you,” she said as soon as she saw him.

  “I had a lot of work, sweetheart . . . I’m sorry,” he whispered sweetly to her and hugged her. “What did you do today? Did you go to school?”

  She smiled slyly and exchanged a glance with her mother. “You won’t believe it, Daddy,” she said happily. “I skipped school today.”

  “Skipped it?” Stavros looked confused. He looked at Aspasia, but her expression was impossible to read.

  “Yes,” Theodora went on. “I played hooky with Mama! We went for a walk, we ate out . . . it was wonderful.” Her face darkened for a moment. “Mama told me I could miss school just for today because yesterday was Stella’s memorial and we were both in a terrible state. Are you angry, Daddy?”

  “No, darling. Mama knows best what you need and since she arranged it, you did the right thing!”

  Stavros avoided his wife’s eyes and concentrated instead on his daughter. As soon as she went to sleep, without saying a word, he shut himself in his room. He heard Aspasia’s door close and it took all his self-control not to go to her room. It didn’t make sense and he knew it.

  Three months had passed since Despina had come to Kalamata, and still she didn’t seem to have any immediate plan to return to her family in Larissa. Stavros finally stopped asking her and simply accepted her company.

  Every day that passed he was more aware of how much the superficial young girl he had known once had changed. Every day she became more necessary to him than he was prepared to accept. He now spent very few hours at home and only at those times when he knew his daughter would be there. He and Aspasia rarely spoke to one another, and only then when the child was present. His wife never asked him where he disappeared to all day, and she never complained when he left, even on weekends, supposedly for work. During the endless hours of solitude when her daughter was at school or doing her extracurricular activities, Aspasia read or went for walks; on the weekends, she took her daughter to the cinema.

  Immediately after the holidays, Despina found a little house—she now planned to live permanently in Kalamata—and Stavros became her regular visitor. They listened to music for hours, played backgammon, and rarely went out. Only in that house, full of companionship, did Stavros feel relaxed.

  One afternoon Stavros came home unexpectedly and found Aspasia talking to a stranger. He quickly realized that he was a club owner who had come to offer her work. As he felt the blood rise to his head, he shut himself in his room in a vain attempt to recover his self-control. He didn’t expect Aspasia to follow him.

  “Why have you shut yourself in here?” she asked.

  “So as not to disturb your . . . negotiations!” he said with difficulty. “Where was the offer for?”

  “Crete.”

  “Very nice! Your old haunts. And when, may I ask, do you leave?”

  Aspasia looked at him without any expression. “And what does it matter to you?” she said coldly. “You don’t even know I exist anymore.”

  “Oh, I do know very well that you exist. And I know why you exist. To torture me as you always do!”

  Stavros was beside himself. He knew that he would regret it but he couldn’t help himself. He approached his wife with rapid movements, grabbed her, and fixed his lips on hers. He felt like an addict who, after a long period of deprivation, was taking his desired drug again, even though the dose could be fatal. Aspasia immediately came to life at his touch. She wound her arms around his neck and clung to him with longing. It didn’t matter to her that he hurt her; it didn’t bother her that his caresses came from anger and not from love; it didn’t matter
that the only thing he wanted to do was to humiliate her. She let him do what he pleased. But she couldn’t bear the way he looked at her afterward, his eyes full of disgust. He got up and for a moment she thought he was going to spit in her face. Instead, Stavros dressed and left like a madman. Aspasia got up, feeling her body in pain. She saw everything around her smashed to pieces. There was no hope—not after that. She must make up her mind.

  Despina wondered why Stavros had disappeared from her life. For a week he hadn’t stopped by the house, nor had he called her. She gave him his space and didn’t stop by his office. She waited for the time when he himself would come looking for her. He finally did one night when he was very drunk. With great difficulty he told her what had happened and began crying when he explained how disgusted he was with himself. His last encounter with Aspasia had convinced him that he’d never be able to see her as a woman who deserved his respect and love.

  Despina put him to bed, stopping his raving, but she herself stayed awake. She had come to Kalamata not knowing what drove her here, but she knew very well why she had stayed. She had never been indifferent to Stavros, but in the craziness of youth, he had seemed boring to her, and the other man so attractive that she’d married him without a second thought. After so many years and so many mistakes, she had thought all roads were closed. Stavros was married. She had honestly tried to help him as a friend, even if she didn’t feel like that, and she had never wanted to come between him and his wife. But now? What exactly would she be destroying that wasn’t already destroyed?

  In the morning, Stavros woke up in a bad mood and with a terrible headache. Again, he felt embarrassed in front of Despina.

  “Forgive me,” he said.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she replied. “Enough of your apologies, Stavros! I’m beginning to feel like the archbishop. Are we friends or not? Where else would you go in the state you were in?”

  “It’s not right to burden you all the time. To be honest, I don’t know why you don’t get fed up with me and leave so you can have some peace.”

  “Maybe peace is not what I’m looking for at this particular moment.” Then Despina looked him in the eye.

  Her look confused Stavros. He lowered his eyes, certain that last night’s drunkenness had made him imagine things. The day passed very peacefully. Despina made him some soup to calm his stomach. After lunch she forced him to take a nap, and when he woke up in the afternoon Stavros felt better. Still, Despina’s look wouldn’t leave his mind. It couldn’t be true, what he saw in her eyes.

  “Aren’t you going home?” she asked at one point during the evening.

  Stavros noticed she’d avoided looking at him when she asked and he felt an inexplicable agitation. “Are you in a hurry to send me away?” he said. An embarrassed smile was the only answer he got.

  “Despina,” he began in a low voice.

  Despina finally raised her eyes and finally looked at him, and the love he saw there overwhelmed him. He reached out his hand and stroked her cheek, which burned as if she had a fever, and her lips attracted his like a magnet. It had been years since he’d felt like this as he kissed a woman. As they moved next to the fire and continued their exploration of each other, he heard himself moan almost painfully and at the same time he felt as if something bad was leaving him.

  Finally he had found paradise again. However unbelievable it seemed, as he watched Despina sleeping in his arms, Stavros couldn’t help but accept that he was happy again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had embraced a woman to show her love instead of disdain. Nor could he remember when he had begun to think of love as an act of punishment and humiliation, so far had he degraded its importance. Now, however, everything had changed. The ghost of Aspasia faded inside him; the thought of her didn’t provoke anger or pain. His blood didn’t boil when he remembered her. Even that last cursed evening only aroused sorrow and shame for having abandoned himself to something so unhealthy.

  Despina moved a little, then woke up. They looked at each other and she smiled.

  “Are you going to ask me to forgive you now?” she said mockingly.

  “If you think I should,” he answered.

  “If you do I’ll hit you,” she said, pretending to be serious.

  “How long have you loved me so much?” he asked.

  She didn’t lower her eyes but continued to look at him. “I think from the time that I met you.”

  “So why did you marry the other fellow?”

  “If I hadn’t married him, would you have asked me?”

  “To be honest, no. I took you for a superficial girl who wanted to have a good time and not marry.”

  “And I saw you as an inexperienced young man who would have married me so that he could become a partner in my father’s business more quickly.”

  “We’re even then,” Stavros said and kissed her.

  “Stavros, I haven’t denied that I love you, but you . . .”

  “If you’re asking me how I feel . . .”

  “I don’t want you to feel I’m putting pressure on you.”

  “The answer you’re seeking from me isn’t easy. I feel as if I’ve recovered from a serious illness and to be frank, I feel so calm for the first time in ages that I don’t want to spoil it, I don’t want to think of anything.”

  “I understand. Don’t say anything, then. Let yourself enjoy something you were missing. We have time.”

  When Stavros bent to kiss her again, she pulled him down on her. He enjoyed every moment that followed without hurrying. Despina responded to his every touch with ineffable sweetness. With every kiss he felt himself becoming young again, while his wounds stopped hurting.

  Aspasia saw the change in him, and although at first she thought she might be imagining things, when she observed him more carefully, she was certain of it. His face was more relaxed, and the wrinkles around his eyes, which had recently become very deep, had softened; suddenly he seemed younger. But what made the greatest impression on her was his behavior toward her. After that terrible evening he had disappeared for days. When he came back he was much nicer to her. He didn’t seem absentminded when he spoke, and he didn’t look at her with dislike. Aspasia took heart. Perhaps after that violent outburst and the pain it caused her, which she endured and answered only with love, he understood that his wife still loved him. Perhaps everything wasn’t lost.

  As for Theodora, she had begun to show her mother more trust, talking to her more and sharing innocent secrets. When the girl told Aspasia about the joke that all the students had played on the mathematics teacher whom they didn’t like, she was surprised and delighted by her mother’s happy laughter. But she felt the ground slip from under her feet when her father asked Aspasia, “Well, are you going to Crete then?”

  Aspasia was confused. “Why would I go to Crete?” she asked her husband.

  As she listened for a response, Theodora held her breath.

  “Last week, if I remember rightly, you told me you’d been offered a chance to sing in Crete again!” Stavros answered.

  “You remember correctly—as I do,” Aspasia said. She fixed her eyes firmly on him, but Stavros didn’t look away. “I didn’t ever say I’d go.”

  “So you won’t go?” Now it was Stavros who was confused.

  “Of course not. If you hadn’t rushed to shut yourself in your room that day, you would have heard me making it clear that singing doesn’t interest me anymore and that my decision not to take it up again is final.”

  Theodora couldn’t contain herself. She ran to hug her mother, who continued looking at her husband. Stavros couldn’t believe his ears.

  “I didn’t know,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I rushed to conclusions that day.”

  His apology was sincere, but Aspasia smiled bitterly. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You weren’t very wrong to imagine the worst.” Then she turned to Theodora. “Sweetheart, can you leave us alone for a little while? We have to talk.�
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  The child, reassured that she would not lose her mother again, kissed her and disappeared. Aspasia turned to Stavros.

  “I don’t want you to feel bad about what you did that day,” she said quietly. “It hurt me very much, I can’t deny that, but I’ve forgiven you. I’ve done you a lot of harm too. From the time we lost Stella I’ve tried to show you that I’ve changed, but you didn’t believe me, again with good reason.”

  “Aspasia, I’d rather we stopped here.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t make you angry again. Nor will I push you to behave like you did before. I’ll never give you again the opportunity to push me onto the bed like an animal and have me come out covered in bruises. Once you taught me to have sex as an act of love, but later you made it a punishment. Not that I didn’t deserve it. I was the one who first betrayed what beauty we two had. I was once cheap, I don’t deny it, but I’m finished with all that for good. Do you remember what you told me when I came back from Crete? That you hoped I’d recover, but also that the reason for my recovery wouldn’t break me. In the end I had to be broken to pieces so as to pick them up one day and go on. Now the question is whether you can forgive me so that we can go on together. Can you, Stavros?”

  Rather than answering, he left without giving her a second glance.

  As soon as she saw Stavros on her doorstep, Despina knew something had happened.

  “Stavros, what happened? Don’t tell me you did it again,” she said in an agitated voice.

  “No, nothing bad, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t touch her, we didn’t argue, I haven’t been drinking.”

  “So why are you like this? Something happened.”

  “We talked. Aspasia told me she was finally finished with singing and with the past. She meant it, Despina. What happened that night was wrong. She had already refused the offer from the club owner. And I . . . the more I think of what I did to her, I’m ashamed. I’m more ashamed of that moment than you can imagine.”