Protogenesis: Before the Beginning

by Alysia Helming

  The imposing door stands regally in front of me. Is that handprint scanner embedded into the antique wall? I press my palm firmly into the sensor. At first it doesn’t work. Then I see the little twelve-point star symbol. Could my ring be some sort of key? I try my hand with the ring on my finger. Click. The door opens.

  “Hello?” I call out as I step inside.

  In front of me is a room filled with a rustic desk and old weathered books, maps, and papers stacked haphazardly across the bookshelves. I know instantly that this is my mom’s secret place. But, where is she?

  It’s tiny, maybe a ten-foot square box, like a small office with a skylight high up above in the recesses of a vast cobblestone ceiling. The walls are covered with maps, newspaper articles, and mug shots of various people…and surprisingly, everything is in English, not Greek. One newspaper headline catches my eye:

  Black markets consume over 50% of workforce in Athens. Is this the end of the end?

  Another has a photo of a fifty-something-looking attractive man with black hair and a close-cropped beard. The description below the photo reads, “Georgios Sarantos, CEO of Sarantos Enterprises and Billionaire Tycoon.”

  This must be Ever’s dad. Although father and son both are physically striking, his dad looks nothing like Ever. There’s a date at the bottom of the photo: April 6, 1971. Something isn’t right here. Sarantos looks like he’s maybe fifty years old in this picture, which means he would be in his nineties now. Seems too old to be Ever’s dad. Doesn’t make sense. Nonetheless, this photo is significant for me. While I had a hunch that Sarantos was the key to finding Mom before, seeing this photo here solidifies it for me. I need to talk to this guy.

  The wall is covered with images of structures that appear to be in the desert, like somewhere in the Sahara or Tunisia. One image catches my eye. It’s an enormous glass pyramid whose mirrors on its vast surface reflect the image of a setting red sun. I draw in a breath as I realize that this is the same pyramid from my dreams.

  What was my mother into?

  I look down at my silver ring and shiver as I recall the creepy, sickly looking man with see-through skin who gave it to me in the Metro station. It was like he had some horrible disease that had sucked the life from him.

  Something’s gleaming on the desk in front of me. It looks like the strange, antique-looking iPad from before, the one that was in Janus’s safe, but now it’s safely secured inside of a petite glass box. I tap the side of the box and jump back in shock when the device lights up. A word appears on the screen: INITIALIZE.

  What have I done? Could this be a bomb? I slowly lift my finger and point at the box with my index finger. Zap! A puff of air and a very faint, barely audible bolt of…electricity…has just flown out of my finger to the glass. The next moment, I hear a click, and the box opens. The device sits there within my reach. As I reach out to touch its cool metal façade, I feel compelled to pick it up…so I do. Immediately, the device completely dies, and the screen goes blank.

  I look at my watch. Siesta is almost over, so I’d better get out of here. Not sure what to do, I shove the device into the back pocket of my backpack.

  I shut the big wooden door, climb up the rungs of the ladder, and slowly open the locker door back into the now-darkened school hallway.

  For the rest of the afternoon, I don’t speak to anyone. I feel paranoid that somehow someone will know about the locker or the device, but no one even acts suspicious. Later that evening, I avoid eye contact on the Metro. I just want to get home.

  The bruise on my back from fencing still hurts, as does my ankle, but this discomfort is nothing compared to the overpowering exhaustion I feel from everything that has happened. What a crazy first day of school! When I reach Janus’s front door and look in my back pack for the key, I feel the cold hard metal of the iPad device. I’d better be careful with this. Since Janus had it in his safe before, he’ll wonder where I got it.

  That’s when I see a little market on the corner. Maybe I can distract Janus from noticing that anything is off about me if I surprise him by making dinner! It would be my first Greek meal. Of course, this means I’d have to cook something besides Kraft mac and cheese.

  When I go inside, I immediately regret it. The woman behind the counter only speaks Greek, so I try using hand signals to communicate. Considering I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, this is torture. Finally, she throws her arms up in frustration and hands me an English cookbook. I open the book, point to whatever recipe it opens to, and she scurries off to get the ingredients.

  By the time I finally make it back to Janus’ place, my arms are so weak that one of the bags falls out of my grip, the contents spilling to the ground. “For God’s sake, can I get a break?” I cry.

  I hear footsteps behind me. My pulse quickens instantly. I don’t think I can handle any more drama today. Whoever it is needs to go away.

  I whip around. It’s Nick, my new friend from the Metro. He’s standing there, hands behind his back, with a warm smile on his face.

  “Nick…?” I stammer in surprise.

  “Hey” he says as he extends one hand out. He’s holding a bundle of fresh daisies, probably hand-picked from someone’s garden.

  “Wow,” I reply. This is a surprise. “How very sweet!”

  Of course, he could have handed me dead flowers and I’d be happy about it.

  “Yeah,” he says coyly. Is he nervous? He seems stiff, too formal. But then I find out why.

  “I thought maybe…if you’re free on Sunday night…that, well…maybe you would want to go out with me,” he stammers, as if it were the most difficult thing he’d ever said to anyone. But then, he continues in his best tour guide voice, “I want to show you the Temple of Poseidon in Sounio. You can’t get there on the Metro…and it’s not every day that you get a professional guide who’s willing to provide a private tour for free.”

  I stand there in silence, taking in his gray-green eyes for a moment. “Sunday, huh?” I ask hesitantly. “I don’t know. I might have something important to do…like homework.”

  “What? You’d rather do homework than go out with me?” he asks incredulously.

  I grin. “It’s really interesting homework.”

  He frowns, staring down at the ground now. I guess he didn’t see me smiling.

  “So, okay…yes, that sounds nice,” I say coyly, breaking the silence.

  Nick lets out a breath, as if he had been storing it up for an hour inside his lungs. Then he starts to pull out a cigarette. I wrinkle my nose and he quickly puts it away. I’m relieved to see his usual feisty personality return when he says, “Oh yeah, I forgot how much the California girl hates smoke. I guess it is bad for my health.”

  “Thanks,” I say, “but that’s not why I don’t like it. I mean, I don’t want to die of lung cancer or anything, but what really bothers me is the stink breath.”

  “Stink breath?”

  “Yeah, when you get too close to me, your breath stinks…and it’s gross, so, like, the thought of kissing a boy who smokes is the worst for me. I mean, how does a boy who smokes go about kissing a girl who doesn’t? You must have to carry around some sort of breath freshener or something.” I just let it all spill out. “Or maybe you don’t go out with the girls who don’t smoke. That’s probably more like it.”

  He grows quiet for a few paces. Finally, he whispers, “Wow, thanks. It really makes me feel great about myself.”

  Okay, now I feel like a complete jerk. I have no idea where my sudden brashness came from. I guess I needed to get it off my chest. Nick frowns, staring at the ground. I’m sure that he’s going to take back his daisies and leave, but his mood quickly shifts, and he seems upbeat again.


  The next moment, he reaches over, grabs my hand, and pulls me in close to him. I swallow hard as a flutter of excitement travels up my spine. Is he going to kiss me, like for real? As he moves in towards my lips, I’m shocked when he skips over them to my cheeks, first kissing one and then the other. I remember now that Greek people do this in greeting or farewell with each other. I must look confused. He lifts an eyebrow and laughs.

  “You just thought I was going to kiss you, like for real, didn’t you?”

  I shake my head in embarrassment.

  “I guess my stink breath doesn’t bother you as much as you thought.” He smirks, shaking his head as he roars with laughter, holding his hand up. “Oh, now that is funny!”

  As he starts to walk away, he yells over his shoulder to me with an eager grin, “See you on Sunday!” Then it dawns on me, hitting me hard like a brick…

  Nick just asked me out, like, on a real date.

  11 – Greek Mother

  At least, I think it’s supposed to be a date! I’m not exactly sure what dating is like here. None of my friends in the US were Greek, so I have no idea what to expect. I can’t ask Janus! So, who else? Vani. She’s lived here a long time. She’ll know.

  “So, your hot neighbor asked you out?” Vani asks, fascinated. “That was fast. What’s his name?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Nick.”

  “He goes by Nick, not Nikos?” she asks, eyebrow raised. “Hmmm…where did you say you live again?”

  “Metaxourgeio.” I say, then explain how we met. “He told me that he used to go to our school.”

  “Oh…” she starts, but then clears her throat, like she’s nervous. “You must be talking about Nick Angelos. He left school and moved there last year.”

  “Okay,” I say, perplexed. “What’s wrong with him? You’re acting weird.”

  “Nothing,” she says curtly. “Yeah, I knew him. He’s adorable. And a good, decent guy. My car broke down which left me desperate because I had to take my Grandma to the hospital. Nick instantly dropped everything on the spot to not only fix my car, but also to drive both me and my Grandma, just to make sure she was okay. He would do anything for his friends. He asked you out?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say hesitantly.

  “Oh?” she asks, a little surprised, “Why not?”

  “Well,” I start, “He’s a little hard to read.”

  “Oh, I think I know why,” she says. “Back when he went to our school, his heart was broken…more like shredded. It was bad. Who knows what he’s thinking now?”

  “So, you don’t think he’s asking me out, then?” I ask, a little frustrated.

  “I have no idea,” she says, “No one has seen him in a long time. Just be careful.”

  Of course, this leaves me more confused than before. I have no idea what to expect, so I guess I won’t get too excited. If Nick just wants to hang out as friends, that’s fine with me. In fact, it’s nice to have a friend here who seems so honest and real, especially with all that’s just happened in my life.

  When Sunday night arrives, though, I start to get nervous. The mystery is intriguing, like it’s a real-life puzzle to solve. I’ve always enjoyed a good challenge.

  Nick shows up dressed casually, in a white button-down shirt and worn jeans, which seems out of place with his wild-boy blond hair tousled with gel and whole arm inked with tattoos. Once again, a rebel in disguise. I like that he’s quirky like this. Keeps me guessing. His bronzed skin makes his gray-green eyes stand out in an ethereal way. Oh my.

  All this is great, well, at least until I see that he has a motorcycle. I’m not a fan. I’ve never been on one before and not wild it now. My mother hates motorcycles. Presumably someone she knew was in an accident or injured somehow. She would never tell me. While she never explicitly said not to ride on one, I knew not to.

  Of course, tonight, since I don’t have a car, I don’t have much of a choice here. Besides I can’t let my mother’s fears keep me from living my life. Where is she anyway? Part of me wonders if she doesn’t want me to find her. I feel a little guilty going out to have fun when my mom needs me, but deep down I know how strong and capable she is. And I don’t have any good leads right now. Since Nick works for Sarantos, maybe there’s something I can learn from him, even if by accident.

  We’re about to take off when Nick looks around, flustered as if he forgot something important. “Oh, crap. I forgot my helmet! I need to run up to my place to get it. Wanna come?”

  I must have a strange look on my face because he laughs. “My mom is there! Since we’re neighbors, you should meet her. She will love to hear all about the girl who lives next door with the crazy old medicine man.”

  Only a helmet for him? What about me? I guess I’m used to the helmet laws in California. “Uh Nick, I’m not sure I want to ride a motorcycle for the first time ever without a helmet…”

  His smile is wide as he starts to chuckle, “Oh, that’s funny! The helmet isn’t for me. It’s for you!”

  “Oh, then what are you…” I start, but I completely forget my train of thought when he takes my hand.

  “Let’s go. My house is this way,” he says as he leads me over to the front door of his building and up the stairs. At the top of the first floor, he abruptly stops and begins to remove his little gold hoop earring and explains, “My mom would die if she saw this, so I have to always remember to remove it before I get home…or suffer her wrath.”

  I smile. “But doesn’t she see the hole in your ear? It’s visible from here.”

  “No. Well, if she does, she ignores it. Almost all my cousins have an earring, so we all play this game with our parents,” he says. He runs his hand through his hair. “How do I look?”

  I’m thinking of how to say amazing without saying it, so I settle on “great.”

  We step inside the apartment. The tiny living room is tastefully decorated, like something you would see inside any house in the US, except for the back wall, which is packed floor to ceiling with used furniture. The stench of cigarette smoke coats the air in the room. Someone needs to open a window.

  Nearby, a forty-something, petite woman with blond highlights, too much makeup, and tired green eyes is scurrying around the kitchen, fussing over food. Quickly, I discover the source of the smoke in the room when I spy her recently consumed cigarette smoldering in the sink. Like mother, like son.

  “Hey, Ma!” Nick yells over to her as she struggles with a hot baking pan that she’s trying to remove from the oven. Smells like dessert. He grabs his motorcycle helmet, placing it firmly under his arm. “I’m just getting my helmet. We’re headed out.”

  “Nikolae, don’t tell me you won’t be here tonight! Your aunts and uncles will be here soon for Lydia’s name day party. You should be here! And by the way, where is your sister? Weren’t you just for coffee with her and her friends? And why are we speaking English?”

  Then, when she sees me, her face falls flat. “Oh. Who’s this?”

  “Oh, Mama, this is Helene.” His mom watches me carefully. She doesn’t like me. Nick must notice the awkward pause between us as he explains, “She’s our neighbor. She just moved in next door with the crazy old man Janus. Remember, I told you about her and you said to bring her by sometime.”

  Relief sweeps over her face as she rushes over. “Ahh, our neighbor! Helen, did you say?”

  “Hel-een,” I correct her.

  “So nice to meet you, Heleen-a. You’ll have to come over another time when things here aren’t so hectic.” She’s trying to be nice, but for some reason, this is difficult for her. She sweeps away, bustling back into the kitchen.

  “Lydia?” I ask innocently
as I turn towards Nick.

  “My sister,” he explains simply as he points over to a photo of a smiling young girl with short, curly black hair and dark eyes.

  “Name day for Greeks is like a birthday, but it’s even more important. Everyone’s name has a particular date assigned to it, like today, March 27, which is the name day every year for all girls named Lydia. This is a big deal because all of the girls in a Greek family with the name Lydia will celebrate together on this day.”

  Nick’s mom yells out loudly in Greek. Nick responds, his expression rigid with displeasure.

  They stare each other down. His mom nods sternly at Nick. Nick, with both arms crossed over his chest, nods back. After a long moment, she sighs loudly, raising her eyebrow at him. This must be some sort of secret code because Nick swiftly takes my arm and leads me out of the apartment, down the stairs, and outside to the sidewalk. The whole time, he’s apologetic, trying to make me feel better.

  “Your mother doesn’t like me,” I say.

  “That’s not true!” he exclaims. A moment later, though, he says, “It’s not that she doesn’t like you. She doesn’t like any girl who isn’t Greek for me.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “My parents are very traditional. If I even breathe a word to a non-Greek girl, my mom starts ruminating about this maybe being the one, the girl I’m going to marry. She kind of freaks out about it. But times have changed. People our age are much more open-minded, especially in bigger cities like Athens. Anyway, it’s okay to date someone casually without it automatically leading to happily ever after.”

  Wait, is he talking about marriage…already? I mean, we’ve only just met! Seems a little soon. I know the culture is different here, but there’s no way I’m going to think, speak, or hear about weddings at my age.

  Also concerning, he just said he would never marry a girl who isn’t Greek. Not that I should care, since I’m not even his girlfriend. More importantly, I have some pretty heavy stuff going on in my life right now. But what if I do want to date him? What then? We pause in front of Janus’s shop, leaning side by side against the outside wall. Our arms almost touch as we look out into the street.