Protogenesis: Before the Beginning

by Alysia Helming

  Ever captivates me when he talks about his passions. I feel drawn in and swept away into his vision for the future, as if we’re on a road trip and he’s taking me along for the ride.

  “Rock star?” I ask. Not that this is that surprising. He is the lead singer for a rock band at our school, after all. But Los Angeles? I tease him a little. “I know you sing with your band, but are you any good?”

  “Any good?” he says with intense fervor as if it were the most ridiculous question I could ask. The recessed lighting above reflects onto the surface of his eyes, making them appear almost gray-blue now. “You’ve obviously never seen me perform before!”

  I love how strongly Ever emphasizes certain vowels when he’s truly excited – so much passion in his words, which, coupled with his sweet Greek accent, fans the flames inside me. I’m entranced.

  “True, but…” I say playfully.

  “I have something special in mind for you at the dance – a song that I wrote. You have to hear it.”

  Not the dance again! He didn’t hear me say no before, or perhaps he ignored it.

  Wait, did he just say that he wrote a song…for me? I must not have heard him correctly. This must be a mistake. I was not going with him before, mostly because I was hurt that he wanted to go as “friends,” but now my willpower wavers. He’s staring into my eyes with so much…what is it? Adoration. The flutter in my stomach returns. I want to go with him. I can’t help it.

  Then the voice of reason fills my head. Even if this is something more than friends, I can’t go with him, or anyone, for that matter. Above all else, I need to spend my time looking for my mom.

  “Uh, about the dance. I…uh…well…” I say as my eyes rove around the room. I can’t bring myself to look directly at Ever.

  “Yes?” he says. Maybe I see just a hint of doubt cross his features, but in a flash, it’s gone.

  “I won’t be here, so…”

  “What?” His expression is incredulous. “You can’t miss the dance! Whatever it is, reschedule. Really, no one misses the spring dance. Of course you’re going!”

  I still can’t look at him, so I sigh and remain completely silent. I won’t win this with him. He’s very convincing. I’ll have to bow out later somehow. Maybe he can sing his song for some other girl since I highly doubt that he wrote it just for me. I bet that he wrote this song a long time ago and now recycles it over and over to sing to unsuspecting girls when he wants to win them over.

  The nurse enters the room and closes the curtain. “Time’s up.”

  “We have to go now?” Ever says. “But we just got here.”

  A look of mild annoyance comes across the nurse as she looks down at the clipboard. “Your mother will be asleep for at least the next twelve hours. We have your cell number in case anything changes. We’ll let you know.”

  Ever is not happy about this. He clearly doesn’t want to leave his mother’s side. But the nurse is ready for us to go. Her tone is clipped as she says, “Your mother will want you to go out and live your life while we assess her situation. Now, run along.”

  They stare at each other for a bit before Ever takes my hand to lead me out. As we leave the waiting area in the hospital and go down the front steps to the street, I see the hint of a shadow standing nearby.

  “Your bodyguard?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “Yeah. It’s your buddy Dimitris,” he says with a grin.

  The shadow turns human and steps out into the light of the streetlamps. It’s almost dark now as the sun has just set below the horizon. Ever nods to Dimitris curtly, but Dimitris stares straight ahead, stoic like a statue.

  “Dimitris?” I ask. I’m not used to seeing him like this. No reaction. I can’t keep myself from walking up to him, where I stand on my tiptoes to reach his eye level, trying to make him acknowledge me.

  “Why did you quit teaching?” I ask, trying to rouse him from his mute stance.

  A smile flashes across his face, but he won’t look at me. His ability to ignore me is quite impressive.

  “Really? You can’t talk to me? That seems a bit extreme,” I say.

  Finally, he chuckles and relaxes, making eye contact. His voice is low and hushed, as if this discussion is completely forbidden. “I’m not supposed to talk to anyone outside of my immediate charge.” His eyes dart over to Ever.

  Ever scoffs. “Like I care! C’mon, Dimitris, stop being silly.”

  Dimitris sighs, then visibly relaxes. “Ah, well. We can’t always follow the rules.” He grins, pulls out a cigarette, and lights it up before continuing. “I had to quit teaching because Sarantos hired me full time.” His eyes are intense.

  “I can’t believe you gave up doing what you love. You were such a great teacher!” I say incredulously.

  “I was working only four hours a day with the teaching, not enough to provide for my family. And trying to manage driving around that schedule was impossible. Besides, Sarantos pays so well. It’s a great opportunity for me and an honor to work for him,” he says firmly.

  “And me,” Ever says with a grin.

  Dimitris rolls his eyes. “Yes, of course. I always enjoy a good challenge.”

  My stomach growls. Suddenly, I realize that we haven’t eaten in hours. Ever must be starving. I turn to him and say, “You should eat.”

  His eyes light up slightly, and he nods. “Uh, yeah. I probably should,” he says pensively. “You need to eat too, right? I know just the place.”

  Wait a second. Is he asking me out?

  23 – Agora

  Just breathe, Helene! It’s not a real date, just two friends hanging out. Ever’s being nice, showing me around Athens because his mom is sick and mine is missing, so we have a lot in common. That’s all it is. So much has happened tonight that instead of trying to control the situation, I decide to just relax and go with it.

  It’s already dark. We walk in the crisp, cool air for a while until we reach a cobblestone alley. A throng of tourists rushes past us. We walk up a long road, then down through a narrow alley, and come out into a large square.

  “This is Monastiraki Square,” Ever announces. A stately white stone Greek church with a domed bell tower stands in the middle of the square. The bells are ringing gladly, as if to announce the glory of life as another hour in time begins. Instantly, I feel transported back to a time when life was very different here…back to Byzantine times. Some things were simpler then, but most were much more trying, even compared to the current crisis.

  We walk up some stairs and stop at a café built into the side of the hill. High up on the hill above rests the Parthenon, fully lit up in all its splendor. On the steps are cushions where people sit and dine with little footstools that serve as tables. At least twenty cats of every size and color wander from table to table in search of food scraps.

  Ever says, “Most people say that the cats are the real owners of this place.”

  “It certainly seems that way,” I say. I take in a deep breath, expecting the usual allergic reaction…but it’s not there. Of course not. The Gate must have healed that too. “You like cats, then?” I ask.

  “Ummm, no. Felines are too unpredictable, like women,” he says playfully. “Dogs are much more reliable.” He holds up his iPhone. Lit up in full color is a photo of Ever and a golden-colored dog with an adorable wrinkled face.

  “Your dog?” I ask, “What’s his name?”

  “Hampos,” He says, eyes dancing.

  “But reliable can be monotonous,” I say, teasing him. “Wouldn’t you prefer unpredictable to boring?”

  His eyes light up as he nods. “If for a woman, maybe.” His tone is
mischievous. “But for a cat, never.”

  The café owner beams when he sees Ever. He opens the door wide in welcome, patting Ever warmly on the back as if they are old friends. I haven’t even had the chance to order when he places a stout-looking black coffee down in front of me. I frown when I notice that there’s no cream nearby.

  “Where’s the cream?” I ask, perplexed.

  Ever grins. “I take it that you haven’t had real Greek coffee before. No one puts cream in Greek coffee. It detracts from the experience of savoring it.” He picks up the cup in front of him and sips it slowly, his smile drawn in deep satisfaction as he gazes at me over his cup. Some of his earlier sadness must be back because his eyes take on a deep turquoise cast, the color that sweeps me away to another place, somewhere far away and blissful.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  Realizing that I must look ridiculous right now gawking at him like a doe-eyed puppy, I pick up my cup of coffee and take a sip. It’s bitter and harsh. My whole face wrinkles in disgust. “Ugh, no,” I say as I briskly set the cup down on the table.

  He laughs as if he were expecting my reaction. “Well, I guess it’s a bit of an acquired taste…but you had to try it. Everyone must try Greek coffee.”

  I see Dimitris standing by the door, trying not to smile at us. I’ll bet he’s seen a lot in his line of work, but I almost feel as if he’s watching my back as much as he is Ever’s.

  Ever asks the café owner to bring me an espresso instead.

  “Decaf,” I correct him.

  Ever gapes at me. “Decaf? Seriously? No one orders decaf espresso. I’ll bet he doesn’t even have it.”

  The café owner shrugs as he explains to Ever that of course he has decaf espresso. The tourists from America order it all the time.

  “See?” I say. “And since I am from America, I should be allowed a little break here. I would like to get to sleep at some point tonight. An espresso at this hour would keep me up all night.”

  Smiling, Ever shrugs in defeat. “Fair enough, American girl.”

  The café owner comes back. Ever turns to me. “Want dessert?”

  “What? Oh, why not?” I sigh as it dawns on me that in only a few days, I will be eighteen. “My birthday is this Sunday.”

  “You’re an Aries?”

  “Yep.” I’m glad he’s into astrology.

  “Let’s pretend your birthday is today,” he says. He orders his favorite dessert, something called mosaiko, and his favorite Greek wine for us.

  “We can drink wine?” I ask incredulously.

  “I’m eighteen,” he smiles. “But also, no one really cares about the drinking age here.”

  Ever tells me about his life, about how he can’t recall any part of his life before he was around eight years old. “Perhaps it was so bad that I blocked it out. I don’t know,” he says, looking down at his hands.

  He talks about how angry he is with his father so obviously cheating on his mom, how awful that is. “I am so sick of it, of all the pain it has caused my mom all these years, that I have taken a vow that when the time comes, I will never cheat on my wife.”

  This is hard to believe given all the talk at school about his being a major player. “Well, that’s hardly the image you have, you know,” I challenge.

  “Yes, you’ve said that before. But sometimes things are not as they seem,” he says seriously. The trace of sadness and vulnerability that I saw in him earlier at the hospital is evident once again.

  The dessert arrives. I’ve never seen anything like it before. At first glance, it looks like a mosaic tile. Upon closer inspection, though, it’s a chocolate cake randomly interspersed with tiny light-colored biscuits, like a work of art. A candle burns brightly in the middle for me. “Happy birthday,” he says.

  As we eat the cake and sip the wine under the stars, Ever reveals more about his life to me. Maybe it’s because of our confrontation at the hospital about my mom, but I’ve not seen him so open in this way before…and it’s refreshing. He’s animated, using his hands as he talks, deeply engaged in this conversation, here and now. I feel a little guilty that I’m not sharing equally with him. I am blown away and still in shock about so many things today that I just sit and listen quietly, laughing and smiling, just allowing myself to enjoy being here so relaxed and free with him.

  Just then, Ever’s expression grows serious, as if he’s going to tell me something of grave importance. “One thing you should know. My sign…I’m a Sagittarius.” He says this in a serious voice, as if it’s a big deal. I’m not sure what is so worrisome about this. Concern shrouds his face as he continues, “I have trouble with Aries. Once I dated a girl who was an Aries, and it was like we were speaking different languages. Like I would say something, and she would completely take it the wrong way.”

  “Oh, really?” I suddenly hear my mother’s voice in my head when we used to talk about men and astrology. My mom religiously followed her horoscope but also regularly shared her rather animated observations about men with me. “What you’re talking about, isn’t that true for all men and women? You know, like Mars and Venus?”

  Ever smiles, nodding. “Well, yes, but this was different…more difficult than usual.”

  I tell him that my mother is also a Sagittarius. She once told me that both of our signs are Fire, which signifies energy, but her sign is aligned with the goddess Artemis, and my sign, Aries, is aligned with the goddess Athena. Artemis and Athena were both strong, intelligent, and brave, but even though they approached life in different ways, they always had a strong sense of shared purpose.

  Ever is keenly interested. I’m surprised that he’s so open-minded about this. I wonder if he is also open enough to believe in the supernatural. I’m not sure I should ask him, though, especially as I’ve been shot down so many times by Nick over this.

  “What’s your rising sign?” In astrology, the sun sign determines general personality, but the rising sign, or moon sign, dictates inner emotions and mood. The two together create the full picture of a person.

  “Gemini!” he says.

  “Oh no, not Gemini!” I tease. I quote my mother: “The Twins. Anything with two heads is a monster!”

  We laugh at this together.

  “I’m not a monster!” He points to his teeth. “See? No oversized, pointy teeth.”

  “That’s a vampire, not a monster!”

  “Monsters have pointy teeth.” He beams.

  “No,” I playfully challenge him, “I don’t think so.”

  “Vampires have fangs, not teeth.” He smiles but then looks away in awkward shyness, face slightly reddened. Is he blushing?

  My senses grow dull from the wine, so I finally muster the courage to ask Ever about things of a more “mystical” nature. I desperately need to be heard by someone who believes, who can at least relate a little bit to my bizarre life beyond the Gate.

  “Do you believe in the supernatural?” I whisper the question, bracing myself for the usual backlash that I’m used to with Nick.

  Ever’s eyes turn a bold, royal blue. What can this mean? He’s going to laugh at me. I’m sure of it. I look away, irritated with myself for even bringing it up.

  But then he surprises me with his response. “Of course.”

  “What?” I say in shock. “You do?!”

  “Well, yes,” he says. “While I’m deeply spiritual and my religion is Greek Orthodox, that doesn’t preclude me from believing that there is more to the universe than just us. But I don’t believe that the mystical and science are mutually exclusive. Albert Einstein said it best: ‘The more I study science, the more I believe in God.’”

  “Oh,
wow,” I say in awe of his intelligent mind. I knew that he was deep, but this is wholly unexpected.

  Ever suddenly glances down at his watch. “It’s getting late. Can you stay out a little bit more? I want to show you something…unusual. Something that I think you will especially appreciate.” The look in his eyes means there’s no way I can possibly say no.

  We leave the café and take a walk outside in the odd quiet of what is usually a very busy and alive city at this time of night. We stroll on a barely lit wide stone pathway in the darkness. To our right, the Parthenon is still lit up in all its majestic splendor on the hillside next to us.

  A variety of street vendors line the walkway here, which seems like a favorite place for tourists to visit. Tourism, which is the primary source of income for so many people, seems to be thriving, even though I know that many people here are suffering with the financial crisis. I wonder what life must be like for all the people nearby, unsure of how they will make ends meet or how long the crisis will last.

  It seems so wrong, but I can’t not enjoy myself here with Ever. He’s so debonair and charming. He makes me feel like all the ugliness is not even happening, like we are off in another time and place.

  “Of course, I’m sure you’ve visited the Parthenon,” he says, staring up at the stately white marble pillars lit up like it’s on fire above us.

  “Uh, no,” I stammer. “Actually, I haven’t.”

  “What? You must go. It’s…well, it’s spectacular.”

  “Isn’t it usually packed with tourists, though? Doesn’t that kind of take away from the splendor of it all?” I ask.