Protogenesis: Before the Beginning

by Alysia Helming

“You sure you didn’t cheat?” I tease him. “I know what kind of willpower it must take for a chain smoker to quit, even for a week.”

  He looks incredulous. “What? I’m not a chain smoker! You know that, right?”

  I smirk, not responding.

  “Well, I’m not. I only smoked like three or four cigarettes a day,” he says.

  “That’s all?” I say, eyes wide. I am so enjoying this. “Uh-huh, right.”

  “Yes!” he says anxiously, but then he must see the teasing in my eyes because he visibly relaxes and grins. “You’re giving me crap, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.” I smile.

  Just then, I hear Janus coming down the outside spiral stairway towards us. He must have been up on the roof deck. Argh. After Nick’s reaction to my altered appearance, there’s no way I’m taking it tonight from Janus too. I’ve got to get out of here.

  “Nick, let’s go,” I say urgently, grabbing his arm.

  “Wha…?” He must see the alarm in my eyes because he stops short.

  We hear the shuffling clang, clank of Janus’s shoes as he makes his way down the metal stairs. He calls out in a shrill voice, “Helene! Before you go, we need to talk!”

  No way is that happening. “We have to go now!” I raise my voice.

  Nick nods, steps onto the bike, and guns the motor. Vrrooommm!

  “Helene!” Janus yells over the rumbling engine.

  I shove Nick’s helmet on my head and leap onto the bike behind him, hugging his back tightly. Our tires squeal as we peel off into the night. I wrinkle my nose at the foul smell of burnt rubber that fills the air around us.

  “Woo hoo!” I yell in delight. Nick grins, his face filled with triumph. This act of outright rebellion is exactly what makes his world go round.

  As I rest the length of my torso on his back, I feel the stir of something in me with his rock-hard body so close to mine. We drive through the narrow streets of Athens, through some side streets, flea markets bustling in busy fury on either side, the succulent aromas of herb-roasted lamb and chicken tantalizing my senses.

  The wind blows against my skin, sending chills under my shirt as it flies out behind me. Nick curves around a bend and starts up a steep hill. The city’s lights start twinkling subtly as the sun starts to set off towards the horizon, a majestic swath of orange streaks across the sky all around us. We continue to climb up higher and higher, the street winding through a thick pine forest. The breeze is colder here, so I hug Nick’s back tighter more to stay warm. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  As we approach an area about midway from the top, there’s a parking lot with a hot dog stand, but it’s vacant. This is not a typical tourist area. Nick stops the bike near the edge of the hill near a low stone wall. The orange of the slowly descending sun is now fading to a menagerie of tendrils shooting out in varying hues of red, pink, and purple. I pull the helmet off my head, sure that my hair is a total mess. There’s not a whole lot I can do about that, though, so I decide not to worry about it.

  “Where are we?” I ask in a hushed voice. I experience a feeling of utter peace and awe at the sight of the miraculous view from this amazing place.

  “Lycabettus Hill,” Nick says in his tour guide voice. He tells me about the crumbling old white church at the top of the hill called St. George; the Agioi Isidori, which is another tiny church built into the hillside; and the Lycabettus Theater, where plays and concerts are performed.

  The setting sun is visible in the reflection of Nick’s gray-green eyes as he stares off in the distance. He continues in a serious tone. “Athena wanted her temple on the Acropolis to be much higher, closer to the sky. One night, while she was in the middle of moving a huge rock to the Acropolis, two black birds brought her bad news about an urgent issue. In her haste, she accidentally dropped the rock here in this very spot – and that’s how Lycabettus Hill came about.” He points. “See down there, on that hill? That’s the Parthenon and the Acropolis. And that’s the Temple of Zeus.”

  It all looks so tiny from up here. I can’t believe that the little white-pillared structure on the top of the tiny hill is the Parthenon. It looked so grand and majestic from the ground when we rode past through the streets of Athens earlier.

  This bird’s-eye view of these ancient archaeological wonders makes me think of that magical place through the mirror…the vast desert sands of Olympus. It feels strange to think that I was just there. Since Nick purports to believe only in ideas backed by science, perhaps he will know something about parallel universes and Plato’s theory about another parallel world.

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you heard about CERN and their research where they are trying to poke through the fabric of our universe to try to reach into another one? I think I heard they are trying to build a bridge or a portal between the two realities. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  His eyes light up slightly. “Maybe,” he says quietly.

  “I also heard a theory that if in fact this other universe could exist, perhaps the gods could be real there. Have you heard that?”

  “Uh, no.” All the interest he showed just a moment ago shuts down. His face is now completely impassive and cold. “C’mon, Helene! The gods aren’t real. Now you sound like those wacked-out pagans your godfather hangs out with. Seriously! That’s crazy talk.”

  We sit there on the stone ledge in silence for a moment. I shudder as I feel the chill from the updraft of wind traversing swiftly up the hill. Nick must sense this because he moves closer, wrapping his arms around me, which feels nice. Is he going to make a move or what? Is this a date, or are we just friends? This ambiguity is making me crazy.

  His blond hair is swept back from his face as the wind blows softly. “Let’s go and get some dinner.” He gets up and turns towards the hot dog stand, which is the only sign of life here in the middle of this vacant parking lot. “Hope you’re hungry. These are the best dogs in town.”

  The thought of a nice juicy hot dog makes me long for lazy summer days growing up in California, going with my mom to Giants Stadium.

  “You look disappointed,” he says softly.

  “Me? No, I love hot dogs. Janus would never approve, though,” I say. I can just envision the sneer forming on Janus’s face at the sight of a hot dog.

  “Well then, I say let’s eat a lot of hot dogs!” Nick beams.

  We walk over and peruse the wide variety of toppings for hot dogs. I’m impressed. And of course, they have French fries, which I have seen everywhere here. Unlike in the States, the fries taste like real potatoes, and they’re probably fried in virgin olive oil. I tell the street vendor what I want. Nick pulls out a wad of euros to pay.

  “This week when I didn’t see you for a while, I thought about coming over to take a yoga class from your crazy old man.” Nick’s eyes shine as he bites down on his hot dog.

  “Even before your five days was up?”

  “Well, yeah. When I reached day two, I needed a little encouragement to get me through it. I almost gave up…almost!” His expression is animated, full of life. “But also, since I’m not in school anymore, it’s not exactly easy to make new friends in the tourism business. Everyone you meet is a new face.”

  “And maybe…I just wanted to see you again. I missed you,” he says wistfully.

  “Even though I’m not Greek?”

  He smiles mischievously. “Especially since you aren’t Greek.”

  “You’re such a rebel,” I say.

  “Yep. Always.”

  I tell Nick about my victory over Samantha. I can tell he hates her. His expression is visibly pained when I talk about the awful
humiliation that I felt during my first fencing experience with her. He tells me that Samantha acts that way only when she senses competition.

  I am flabbergasted. “But why would I be competition for her?”

  Nick throws his arms up. “You really need to ask that?”

  I shrug.

  He smiles wryly. “Nope, sorry.” He says playfully, “There’s no way I’m saying anything because we’d have to resume our earlier conversation about your…appearance. Is that what you want?”

  “No!” I exclaim. He’s right. Best to drop the subject. “So, what’s next?” I ask.

  “What? This isn’t enough?” He smiles. His white teeth are visible in the darkening evening. I’m happy to not hear him mention the beach. Maybe he forgot about our bet, or maybe the whole thing was a joke after all.

  Nick’s eyes come alive. “Actually, I do believe that it’s time to go to the beach. Nice and dark…just like we discussed.” He raises his eyebrows mischievously.

  Oh yeah. The Dare. Some of the excitement that I felt from when I first thought of it returns. It’s no big deal to take your top off at the beach here. Everyone does it.

  He discards the hot dog wrappers, takes one last swig of water, and then hands me the helmet. Time to get back on the bike.

  I welcome the heat from his body as we follow the long, winding road down to the streets of Athens. On the way down, the sparkling lights of this vast metropolis glisten in the darkness of night. The city is alive with people out mingling in the streets, the smells of roasted meats and noises of people dining in outdoor cafés near the road. As we hit the coast, I hear the sounds of cawing seagulls and smell the salt water in the air. A soft mist caresses my face as we pull into a parking lot.

  Smiling, Nick leads me down to a beach in Varkiza, where the path is now only dimly lit by the nearby parking lot lights. The beach is gorgeous at night. A soft warm breeze flows over my skin. A crescent moon sits alight above the crashing waves of the sea directly in front of us. I continue to follow Nick’s gray silhouette until we stop very close to the surf. Surveying the beach, we are for the most part alone. Another couple is sitting on the sand, but it is so far down the beach that I can’t see them clearly. We sit down on the beach, staring out at the calm surf, when Nick produces a wine bottle and two glasses. Where was he hiding these? I didn’t feel them on him when we were riding on the bike.

  After pouring the wine, Nick hands me a glass. “Time to celebrate. I have officially been smoke-free for five days.”

  “Yamas! And so now what?” I ask as we clink our glasses in a toast and take a sip.

  “What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed. He’s staring at my lips. Uh, that wasn’t what I meant.

  I decide humor is in order here. “Are you planning to continue this smoke-free trend or to now go back to life with the stink breath?” I chide.

  “No, not that.” He frowns, then blows his breath right in my face. “How does it smell now?” He’s laughing at me. The smell of his breath is sweet and minty with a hint of the wine.

  The look on Nick’s face right now reminds me of his expression earlier when he handed me his helmet just as we were taking off on his motorcycle earlier…his lone helmet. Why not two helmets? Is his safety less important than mine? Not that I mind the look of the wind flowing effortlessly through his hair.

  “Why is it that I am always the one to wear your helmet?” I ask, “I mean, is there a law here in Greece that only girls are supposed to wear helmets and not boys? That seems awfully sexist if true. Really!”

  Nick’s eyes grow wide as he chuckles, which grows into a full-on hearty laugh.

  “What?” I ask, wondering what about what I’ve said could possibly be so funny.

  “Well, so, remember when I told you that my family had to…downsize? We gave up everything,” he says with a sigh, lifting his hand up to brush his blond hair back from his face as he continues. “I felt like I was being really selfish to keep my bike, but I needed it to keep my sanity. Also, it helps to get me to my job, which provides for my whole family, so I guess that’s how I justify it to myself without feeling too guilty. But I did have to give up everything else, including my second helmet.” He seems relieved to confess this to me. “And after my girlfriend left me, I didn’t think I had any reason to keep it…until now.”

  Nick’s face looks pained and hurt. But wait, what was that last part? Is he thinking that I am his next girlfriend?

  I can’t help but ask him about it. “Uh, Nick?”

  “Yeah?” He turns his face towards me, once again staring at my lips.

  I know I shouldn’t ruin this moment, but here it goes. “Your girlfriend…” I say, looking out into the distance.

  “Ex-girlfriend. Yeah…Melina,” he says in an icy, cold tone. His gaze is still focused on my mouth, which makes me shift my body nervously.

  “What happened with that?” I ask. His hesitation and vagueness make me want to know more.

  Nick drops his arm from around my shoulders. His voice grows tense, and his hands clench. “We were pretty serious for about two years, at least until she ripped my heart out. Right after I had to quit school, she ran off with my best friend.” His face reddens in anger, but a deep sadness is also evident in his pained expression. “Don’t even get me started about him. That malaka! It was all over after that. She moved away, and I no longer speak to him.”

  I can’t think of any words to express how hearing this makes me feel for Nick.

  The silence is broken when he pulls away. “I wish I had a blanket for you, but there was no room on my bike,” he says sweetly.

  We share a moment of easy silence. I feel the tension rise as he moves over, very close to me and takes my hand again. His fingers softly caress my hand, slowly tracing circles on the surface of my palm. The sensation sends chills tingling up my arm, igniting heat somewhere deep inside of me.

  “Getting cold?” he asks softly.

  All I can do is nod, my gaze now locked onto his. Slowly, he moves in very close and brushes his lips against mine.

  “Oh...I guess I am,” I whisper.

  He cups my chin as he moves in again. This time his lips find mine in a slow, sweet, kiss. I feel the tension leave my body in surrender as we continue…slow and steady…his tongue finding mine…in this tantalizing dance. When we finally pull away, I’m breathless. He grabs my hand, now kissing each finger. His eyes are filled with so much adoration that it makes me blush.

  The glistening moonlight dances over the lapping waves of the sea in front of us. Of all the boys I’ve kissed, this felt as if it were my first real kiss.

  Then Nick pushes back, looking down at the ground. “Look, Helene, I have a confession. You won’t be happy about this, but I need to get it off my chest.”

  Part of me wants him to declare his undying love for me, but I know that would be hasty and is definitely not happening.

  Nick downs his whole glass of wine. “I lied to you about something. Well, it was kind of teasing…but no, well, it was a trick…a lie…not a nice thing to do.” He looks out towards the softly lapping waves. “The girls here don’t really take their tops off at the beaches in Athens. There are a few nudist beaches, but it’s not a common thing here. It is sometimes something that people do on some of the Greek islands…but not here. So, don’t feel like you need to…disrobe just because of our dare.”

  This display of innocence and overwhelming honesty makes me want him even more.

  Suddenly I want more than ever to hold up my end of the dare. If he’s trying reverse psychology on me…well, it’s worked.

  I start by taking my jacket off. He looks at me, mouth gaping open in shock. “Wha�
��?”

  “A dare is a dare. You held up your end of the bargain, so…” I start unbuttoning my shirt, which makes his eyes grow wide. As he stares at me, I feel a flush rise in my cheeks.

  It does help that we are on a mostly deserted beach in the darkness, with only the moonlight casting its spell on us in such a spectacular setting. The image of the crescent moon shines in his eyes, giving them depth. I sense him holding his breath in anticipation.

  I drop my shirt, then pull off my bra straps…and throw it down onto the sand. My heaving chest shines naked and exposed in the rays of the soft moonlight. I extend my arms out in glee. “See? No big deal!” I yell, laughing.

  But Nick isn’t laughing. His mouth falls open in shock, and a look of consternation consumes his face. This is not the reaction I was expecting. I realize too late that I shouldn’t have done this. I hastily gather up my clothes, pull on my bra and shirt, and cover everything up.

  Nick’s arms are crossed in clear discomfort. He looks as if he’s just eaten something unsavory and has sudden indigestion.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I ask, trembling and terrified at what his response will be.

  He is quiet and contemplative, sinking to sit on the beach, staring solemnly out over the crashing waves.

  This silence makes me feel exposed and betrayed. “You should be careful what you ask for!” I exclaim. But my anger turns quickly to shame. “There’s something wrong with me, right? Look, I know that I’m not perfect—”

  Nick cuts me off, still looking off in the distance. “No, that’s definitely not the problem.”

  “Then what!? What is it?”

  As he turns to look at me, his eyes immediately fall to my lips. “The problem is…” He turns away uncomfortably. “Nothing. There’s no problem. We should probably get home.”

  The whole way home, there is an awkward silence between us. Nick’s body, once relaxed and fluid, is now stiff and rigid as I hold onto him on the back of the bike. When we get back to the apartment, I try breaking the ice by congratulating him again on his quitting smoking.