The House by the River

by Lena Manta

  “Xenia . . .”

  “What did that heartless monster you call your friend do this time?”

  “First of all, she is my friend—let’s not talk about that again. And the heartless monster, as you call her, has fallen in love.”

  Stathis stood looking at his wife, as still as a pillar of salt, before breaking out into loud laughter. “Good for you, my girl,” he managed to say in a wheezing voice between laughs. “You’ve made my day! That’s not news, it’s a story. Miss Ice has fallen in love. Is that what she told you, and you believed it?”

  “It’s my fault for even talking to you. You’re wrong, Stathis!” Martha said angrily.

  The next moment Stathis grew serious. “Now what? Are you serious?”

  “Yes. And if you want to know, I’m worried.”

  “And I’m worried for the poor fellow who’s gotten mixed up with her.”

  “I’m really worried about Xenia. Things are very serious, Stathis. She’s fallen head over heels, and she doesn’t know about those sorts of things.”

  “And who’s the unlucky ‘lucky fellow’?”

  “I don’t know him. His name’s Petros Glinos.”

  As soon as he heard the name, Stathis was stunned. Looking at him, Martha didn’t know what to think.

  “Stathis, why are you looking like that? Do you know him?”

  “Very well.”

  “And isn’t he nice? Maybe there’s something negative about him? Tell me!”

  “One thing at a time, my dear. First of all, he’s from a very good and wealthy family. They don’t even know how much they have.”

  “That doesn’t interest me.”

  “It may interest your friend, though. Maybe she’s after a big fish.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. She doesn’t care about anything except to be with him. Can you imagine, the only place they’ve been to is a hotel room near the beach. Can you imagine? Xenia! In a hotel room like the last whore on the street!”

  “Quiet, love! The child’s in the house. Don’t shout.”

  Martha sat down in a chair, exhausted. “I’m very afraid that he just wants to have a good time.”

  “You’re right to be afraid. That’s how he is,” Stathis said.

  Martha turned and looked at him hopelessly. “What else do you know about him? Tell me, Stathis!”

  “What should I tell you? What all of Athens knows? A badly brought-up bastard is what he is. His father works while he spends the proceeds. He travels often because he gets bored; he changes women more frequently than shirts. I’d say, without a trace of hostility, that Xenia has found the male version of herself.”

  “Yes, but Xenia isn’t the same person she was. She’s as fragile as precious crystal.”

  “Then I’m sorry, but he will break her into pieces, and without any shame. Maybe it’s true, in the end, what they say: everything gets paid for! Don’t you remember Leonidas?”

  “Even if I wanted to, you wouldn’t let me forget him. But whatever you say, Xenia is my friend; I love her.”

  “You can’t do anything to help her, though, my dear. Whatever you say to her, she won’t believe you!”

  “Yes, I know, and if I do tell her, she’ll hope she can change him because she loves him.”

  “Exactly. And anyway, we don’t know anything. Maybe he has finally met his match. The only thing we can do is wait for things to evolve.”

  Most people were astonished when they found out about the romance. The couple began to cautiously circulate publicly after Polyxeni insisted. At first Petros didn’t like it, but after a while he began to enjoy the fact that wherever they went they were the center of attention. Shallow as he was, he began to borrow a little light from Xenia Olympiou, and was proud of the fact that everyone recognized them and that they always had the best seats at the clubs. With Xenia he’d met all the stars of the day. It seemed like a dream when Kokotas or Zampetas greeted them from the stage. It flattered his vanity to go around with a famous woman and sit at the same table with performers he had only admired on the screen or at the theater, and for them to speak to him like a friend. His face appeared beside Xenia’s nearly every day in the gossip magazines, and people began to recognize him even when he was alone.

  Fame, even borrowed fame such as this, flattered Petros, and he had to admit that his life had acquired some interest thanks to Xenia. The only thing that bored him unbearably was Xenia herself, who seemed to be completely dependent on him. Sex with her, it was true, was always exciting, and he had to confess that for the first time he hadn’t gotten tired of a woman in bed. She was full of invention and ready to try anything, as well as to give him everything. When the two of them were alone she was like a wild cat. She carried him away with erotic surprises he didn’t expect, and he liked that, even though he was often afraid they would be caught in the act—something that made him even more eager.

  Nobody who knew Petros expected that the relationship with the famous actress would last so long. Yet, it had been nearly a year and they were still together. Certainly no one, especially Polyxeni, had realized that Petros wasn’t monogamous. With great care and discretion, he had illicitly tasted the fruit that some young starlets of the day offered him in the hopes that they might get a larger role through Olympiou’s influence. She was the only one who didn’t have an exclusive contract with any of the studios; she could work with them or not as she pleased. If she liked a script, and of course the fee, then she’d make the film. Because she was so popular with audiences, all the studios fell over each other to cast her.

  It’s possible that the relationship had lasted so long because of Petros’s cheating. He was able to have all the variety he needed, and Polyxeni, who had complete trust in him, never suspected a thing. Blinded by love, she didn’t notice anything strange. She never knew how many times Petros had gone to the dressing room next to hers, and in that narrow space, offered complete pleasure to her fellow actress.

  Uneasy, Martha followed the story of the relationship in silence, not daring to imagine what would happen if Petros left her friend. With every day that passed, Polyxeni seemed more in love. She had even begun talking of marriage and a child. Martha didn’t dare tell her of her fears; she only very discreetly tried to warn her. From Stathis, who kept some relationship with that circle, she continued to hear about Petros’s misbehavior, and she trembled at the thought that Polyxeni might be told about it.

  When the end finally came, it happened very quickly. When the young couple first met, Petros’s parents hadn’t been bothered—after all, Petros had made them accustomed to odd things. Besides, how long could it last? But the time had come, they decided, for them to intervene. They had no desire to have an actress as a daughter-in-law, especially one who was over thirty years old, and recently the press had been talking more and more about an impending wedding. The Glinoses agreed that their son should get married, but to someone from their circle, a young girl who could have children. They had no trouble finding a suitable girl, and the knife was held swiftly and decisively to Petros’s throat. Either he leave the actress and marry Miss Papalambrou, or he wouldn’t see a penny in future.

  With the sword of Damocles above his head, Petros didn’t have to think hard. However much he liked his life with the stars, however much Polyxeni gave him a good time in bed, he had no desire to be penniless because of her. He chose the worst possible way to break it off. He took her to the hotel again and devoted himself to her body all night, giving her so much delight that she couldn’t bear it. He nearly made her weep and beg him to stop, while at the same time she pleaded with him to continue driving her to an erotic frenzy. At dawn he got up and dressed, while Polyxeni looked at him in surprise.

  “Are we leaving?” she asked. “I thought we were staying here again tonight.”

  “You can stay,” he told her calmly. “I’m leaving.”

  “I don’t understand.” Polyxeni sat up.

  “It’s quite simple, my l
ove. This was our farewell. We’re finished!”

  Polyxeni looked at him for a moment as if she hadn’t heard. Then she smiled uncertainly. “Petros dear, what are you saying? Do you think this is the right moment for a joke?”

  “I’m not joking. I mean it. We’re breaking up.”

  Unconsciously, Polyxeni put her hand to her chest as if she’d been shot. “But why? What did I do?” she asked in a voice like a whisper.

  “Did I say you’d done something? We’ve been together for more than a year—it had to end sometime. I had a good time, you had a good time, so what more do you want?”

  “But have you gone mad? How can you say we’re separating after a night like that?”

  “I told you already—it was a farewell party.”

  “Petros, tell me you’re joking. Please!” she pleaded. “If we’d had problems, I’d understand, but just like that, without any warning, people don’t separate.”

  “Sweetheart, don’t make things end in tears. I’m telling you simply and nicely that we’re finished.”

  “We can’t be! I love you, Petros! I thought we were going to get married.”

  “You and me? Did I ever tell you I’d marry you? Is it possible that I, Petros Glinos, would marry an actress? It’s one thing to have a good time in bed with you, my dear, and another to marry you. Besides, since you brought up the subject—I’m getting married.”

  “What?”

  Polyxeni felt like she was bleeding now from every pore in her skin, but Petros wasn’t about to drop the knife in his hand. Completely cold, he finished dressing without even looking at her.

  “That’s the way it is, my dear,” he said. “I have a name to uphold; a tradition must be maintained. We had a great time, but next month I’m marrying a rich heiress of twenty-three and I don’t want my fiancée to find out I haven’t finished with you. Anyway, I’ll miss you. I don’t imagine the young lady will get up to your tricks with me, but one can’t have everything in life. Good-bye, darling. Maybe, after the wedding, we’ll talk again.”

  He placed a kiss on Polyxeni’s motionless lips, as she sat naked, like a statue, her soul mortally wounded. Then he left. The sound of the door closing behind him was the final shot. Polyxeni collapsed in a faint on the bed.

  Martha paced up and down in the room, her anxiety written on her face. It had been fifteen days since she had communicated with Polyxeni, because Vassiliki had been ill. Shut up in her house, she hadn’t asked herself what was going on with her friend and she wouldn’t have found out anything if Stathis hadn’t come home looking worried, with a newspaper in his hands. In a calm voice he had read the news item: Miss Xenia Olympiou had fainted at the end of her performance and the doctor had diagnosed a nervous breakdown. The strange thing was that when Polyxeni recovered, she disappeared. Nobody knew where she was. Her performances were canceled and the film she was making had been delayed. Her house was closed up and she didn’t answer the telephone.

  “But what happened? Did something happen to her?” Martha asked and asked, speaking to herself.

  While he was trying to find Polyxeni for his wife’s sake, Stathis had also been making inquiries about what happened. He came home scowling.

  “The news isn’t good,” he told Martha soberly.

  “Did you find her?” Martha asked in agony.

  “No. Xenia has disappeared. But I did find out why she left. Petros Glinos announced his engagement to Miss Papalambrou, from the well-known shipping family!”

  “The bastard! He left her.”

  “From what I found out, it wasn’t his idea. His father demanded an end to the relationship and acted as the matchmaker.”

  “And he sold her out without a second thought.”

  “Something like that. What did you think? That he’d choose to be broke, even in Xenia’s arms? I told you, Martha.”

  “Yes, you told me, but after a whole year . . .”

  “Which he spent very nicely with Xenia, but also with a few others under her nose. What did you expect? That he loved her?”

  “You’re right. But what do we do now? Where’s Xenia? What if . . .”

  “Don’t let it cross your mind.”

  “Didn’t you say that everything in life is paid for?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t mean that. No, I don’t even want to think about something like that!”

  “So where is she, Stathis?”

  “I don’t know, my dear. I went again and again to her house. I nearly broke the door down, knocking, but no one answers. The shutters are closed tight—what can I say?”

  Martha rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. Then she looked up decisively. “Let’s go!” she announced to her husband.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To her house. We’ll break down the door. I have a premonition that Xenia’s there but she’s hiding.”

  “But how can we break down someone else’s door?”

  “I’d rather do something illegal than waste precious time. Will you come, or shall I go myself?”

  Stathis had learned over the years to bow before the inevitable; when his wife got something into her head it was completely useless for anyone to try to change her mind. But Martha was right. They forced the door open and found themselves standing in front of a human rag who shuffled around a dark apartment. Polyxeni was unrecognizable, as if she’d aged suddenly in a few days. She was stumbling around with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in her hand. The light that Martha switched on obviously pierced the young woman’s eyes like a hot needle. She closed them, groaning. Stathis was horrified when he saw her. With her hair dirty and full of vomit, he didn’t recognize her. This couldn’t be Xenia.

  Martha took action immediately. She grabbed the bottle violently from Xenia’s hand, and with Stathis’s help, put her in the bath. As if she were dealing with Vassiliki, she shampooed her hair and washed her. She wrapped her in a towel and Stathis picked her up in his arms to put her to bed. Without opening the windows, so as not to give any sign of life, they cleaned the house and threw out the empty bottles as well as the full ones. Martha sent Stathis out for groceries so she could make some soup. Then they waited patiently for Polyxeni to wake up.

  The following days were a nightmare for them all. Polyxeni suffered a lot and the alcohol, which was so important to her, was nowhere to be found. Keeping watch day and night, Stathis and Martha never left her alone for a moment and as soon as she recovered enough that she wouldn’t shock little Vassiliki, they took her home.

  The press was on her side again. Petros’s forthcoming marriage had made them lash out against him and drag up the old story of Leonidas so as to demonstrate “how unlucky Miss Olympiou was in her personal life.” Polyxeni herself didn’t show any interest in what was going on around her. Shut up in Martha’s house, she devoted herself completely to Vassiliki. She played with her for hours on end, sitting next to her while she did her homework, and the girl began to bond very closely with her.

  Yet again, Stathis had arranged everything. He persuaded the producer to postpone the shooting of Polyxeni’s next film a little longer, pointing out that after the publicity surrounding Xenia’s separation, the movie would have tremendous success and repay him for the delay. He also arranged for Xenia to play in a summer theater. Once he’d arranged his own affairs, he took his daughter, his wife, and her friend abroad. Petros’s wedding was approaching and Xenia should not be a witness to it, even in the newspapers. Besides, everyone had found out that she was staying with them and the telephone didn’t stop ringing all day.

  They returned two months later, having traveled through most of Europe. Xenia had just about managed to get back on her feet. Her troubled heart had opened like a rose under the rays of a sun that was called Vassiliki. Even Stathis had to admit that his daughter was in no danger from this once-heartless woman. Xenia loved the child passionately, and she also loved Martha. As for Stathis, she clearly respected him, and his opinion was law to her. Polyxeni’s transformation
would only be witnessed by them, though. For the outside world she became the old Xenia Olympiou again, even more remote and cold than before.

  Polyxeni returned enthusiastically to the set, and just as Stathis had predicted, the film was a wild success. The producer was elated—that is, until he heard the fee Xenia was demanding for her next film. But he didn’t dare to try to bargain. The star brought in money—so she should get what she wanted. This was the unwritten law. Polyxeni was so popular that endless lines formed for her new play, and at the intermission there was a solid mass of people outside her dressing room wanting her autograph. The young girls became almost hysterical when they saw her in the flesh in front of them; many started crying with joy because they could touch her.

  Polyxeni hadn’t run into Petros, even by accident, but just to be safe she avoided the theater’s public exits. Of course she’d heard about the wedding but she forbade herself any memories. She continued to sleep at Martha’s house. Her friend hadn’t allowed any discussion about this and Polyxeni was grateful. The complete silence of her own house would have driven her mad, and she knew it. Besides, she couldn’t bear to spend a day without seeing Vassiliki.

  Martha’s concern for Xenia persisted. Superficially she might have calmed down, but a storm was brewing in the depths of her soul. Martha saw that Xenia carried out her professional obligations, but immediately afterward she would lose all her energy. Only Vassiliki exercised some influence over her, but it wasn’t enough.

  “So what’s going to happen?” Martha asked her one day.

  Polyxeni looked at her sadly. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Someday you’ll have to live normally again.”

  “I’ve tried to, Martha, but it hasn’t worked. I can’t bear pain like that. I’m better off by myself. Anyway, what can I say? I feel so tired.”

  “From what?”

  “From myself, probably. It’s myself that’s making me tired.”

  “Why don’t you go away for a while?”

  “And go where?”