When the Cypress Whispers

by Yvette Manessis Corporon

  “When the hero Theseus came to Crete to slay the Minotaur, he knew he could not do it alone. Like most men, he needed a woman’s help to accomplish this task. And since the Minotaur was Ariadne’s brother, the sly prince knew she would hold the secret so Theseus could get close enough to kill him. Knowing this, Theseus whispered promises into Ariadne’s ear—promises of love, romance, and endless days of happiness together. Believing Theseus’s promises, Ariadne betrayed her brother and her entire family. She showed Theseus how he could slay the Minotaur. Once the deed was done, the couple made their escape. They sailed safely away from Crete and the family and friends Ariadne had betrayed for the sake of love. After a day at sea, they pulled in to the port of the island of Naxos. ‘Why are we not going to Athens so I can meet your father, the king?’ Ariadne asked. ‘We’re just going to spend the night here, and we’ll make sail in the morning,’ Theseus assured his young lover. Ariadne slept under the stars that night, dreaming of Theseus and the children they would have together. The next morning, Ariadne awoke to begin her new life. But she looked around and realized Theseus and the ship were gone. She had been abandoned. Ariadne wandered the island, inconsolable in her grief. She had lost everything: her love, her family, her homeland. She felt she didn’t deserve to walk among the living, and she prayed Queen Persephone would summon her down to her dark kingdom. One day, as she slept in the woods; disheveled, dirty hair matted like a wild animal, the three Graces stumbled upon her. They took pity on the girl and noted her fine bone structure, which was now caked in dirt, her once regal gown, which was now threadbare and torn. They knew this was Ariadne, the princess who had been abandoned by Theseus. The Graces gathered round and whispered in her ear as she slept—Do not worry, young Ariadne. We know your heart has been broken, that you have lost your faith and your will to live, but do not be dissuaded. You have a purpose in life, and soon you will learn it. Do not lose heart, young maiden, for the gods have promised to embrace you and protect you. Just have faith and believe, and everything you have ever wished for will come true . . . for your heart, although broken, is pure and untainted. The next morning, Ariadne awoke and remembered her dream of the Graces’ visit—or was it really a dream? She looked up at the sky and saw a gilded chariot covered with luscious vines and dripping with giant, sweet purple grapes. The chariot glided to earth and touched down next to where Ariadne lay. There, driving the chariot, was Dionysus, the god of wine and revelry. Come with me, he said. We will live a blessed life together, one happier and more fulfilling than you could have ever imagined. Dionysus reached his hand out to Ariadne, and she took it. She climbed beside him, and they sailed off in his chariot, back up to Mount Olympus, where they married and she was made a goddess herself. Ariadne finally lived the life she was destined to live; not as a Cretan princess, not as the beleaguered wife of Theseus, but as a deity whose days were more intoxicating and blissful than she could have ever imagined.”

  Yia-yia finished her story and waited for Daphne to speak. But there were no words from the other end of the line, just the soft breathing of her brokenhearted granddaughter, who had fallen asleep with the phone still nestled against her ear.

  “Good night, my koukla,” Yia-yia whispered into the phone. “Sleep soundly, my love, my beautiful goddess.”

  Thirty

  She had never been afraid of the dark, but on this particular night, Daphne welcomed the pale light from the full moon’s glow. She walked along the shoreline, the flounce of her skirt gathered in her hand as her toes dipped in and out of the gentle Ionian Sea. The moon’s makeshift night-light skimmed across the water, shimmering like an oil slick.

  Oh, what the hell. In one fluid movement, her dress was over her head and discarded on the sand. She waded waist-deep into the water. Arms raised, she sprang up and dove under the water as she had countless times before in this very spot. But there was something undeniably different about this moonlit swim. She had been up all night, aimlessly wandering the same island paths that she had roamed year after year since she had first learned to toddle on them. Daphne knew sleep was an impossibility from the moment Yia-yia had announced that she could not marry Stephen and that the cypress whispers had insisted she stop the wedding.

  She opened her eyes underwater as usual, but there was nothing to see this time. She knew the fish and other sea creatures were there, as they always were, but this time they were hidden in the darkness. They’re right in front of me, but I can’t see them. Like so many other things about this place, about my life.

  She broke the surface and gasped for air, treading water well over her head. The night air was cool and still. She kicked and fanned her hands to turn and face the open sea, whose rhythmic bobbing up and down with the current seemed to match her own breath. She could barely make out the two stone jetties on either side of the cove, but she knew they were there, somewhere in the darkness. Now, more than ever, she needed them to keep her safe.

  Daphne flipped onto her back and let the current take her, allowing the pull of the tide to take over. She looked up at the black sky, wishing the pull would take her far away. She wished she could float like this forever, like an ancient sea nymph, carefree and safe in the water, away from the inevitability of what awaited her on land.

  How had this happened? Why hadn’t she seen this coming? What the hell was she going to do?

  There was nothing Daphne loved more than to indulge in the world Yia-yia had cultivated and created for her. She couldn’t imagine a more colorful and effective way to teach a child valuable life lessons about hubris, greed, jealousy, and vengeance. But now Daphne was faced with a very real dilemma of her own. For Yia-yia and Daphne, the line between myth and reality had always been murky and blurred. But it seemed that now, this time, the line had not only been crossed, it had been erased—decimated. It was one thing to revel in the possibility of it all, but now, as an adult, with bills to pay, payroll to meet, a child of her own to raise, and a future to contemplate, Daphne found she couldn’t afford to lose herself in her imagination.

  The inevitability of making this decision had hung over her like a storm cloud from the day Mama and Baba were killed. She was the adult now, the responsible one, the Amerikanida. And despite Yia-yia’s repeated protests that she would never leave her home or her island, Daphne always knew the day would come when it wasn’t safe or smart for the old woman to live here alone. Daphne had dreaded this day’s arrival, just as she had dreaded each of the funerals she had no choice but to plan. Last night, Daphne had realized that it was finally time. Fantasy had smothered reality, and reason had been sacrificed in the process. Once again, it had fallen on Daphne to make the arrangements.

  The tears came with the reality of what she needed to do. The current carried her farther and farther out to sea, but Daphne didn’t care. She wished she could simply vanish, like the tears that slid down her face and disappeared into the water. And now, knowing what she was being forced to do, she knew this place would never again be the same. Their beloved island would no longer be a refuge. From this day forward, this place would be yet another reminder of so many irreparably broken hearts, so many stillborn immigrant dreams.

  I can do this. It’s for the best. Daphne flipped on to her belly and began the long swim back to shore. Long, strong strokes. Long, strong strokes. Her arms sliced into the water with each kick. She just needed to be strong, strong enough for all of them.

  She has to come with me. She has to leave this place. There’s no other way. Daphne had made up her mind. It was time. She would insist that Yia-yia leave Erikousa and come live with Daphne, Evie, and Stephen in New York.

  The tables had now been turned. Once upon a time it was Yia-yia who kept Daphne safe from the monsters who haunted her imagination and invaded her dreams. Now it was Daphne’s turn to save Yia-yia from the monsters and vengeful gods who had crept out of the storybooks and into their lives.

  When she finally reached shore and got dressed again, Daphne’s dress clung to her bo
dy like a wet tissue. As uncomfortable as she felt, chilled with every step in the predawn air, she didn’t for a moment regret her impromptu moonlit swim. Floating on her back in the darkness, Daphne had finally faced the unavoidable. It was overwhelming and devastating, but at least now she had a plan. Perhaps that was Stephen’s pragmatism rubbing off on her, but lately, Daphne always felt better with a plan.

  Holding the flashlight in her right hand and spinning her diamond ring around and around with the thumb of her left, she walked the familiar dirt roads into town. As she walked toward the port, Daphne wondered what time it was. God, it must still be the middle of the night, even the fishermen aren’t up yet. She mapped out her plan for the morning. I’ll watch the sunrise over the port, then go to the hotel to wake Stephen.

  She walked along the dock, watching the kaikis bobbing in the water, their white masts reflecting the moonlight and piercing the dark sky like a row of slim fingers pointing toward the heavens. Middle fingers, Daphne imagined, feeling as if she too would like to give the heavens the middle finger for the fate her family had once again been dealt. Besides the bobbing masts, the port was perfectly still and quiet except for the continuing thud, thud, thud of the waves against the bulkhead. Daphne stood in the middle of the dock, taking it all in, completely engrossed in the deadly tranquillity of the hour.

  “You’re either up really early, or really late. Which one is it?”

  The voice came out of nowhere, and although she was startled, she wasn’t surprised by who had broken the predawn spell.

  “Yianni.” She strained her eyes to see him in the blackness. “Is it time to cast your nets already?”

  “I guess I have my answer. You’ve been up all night, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that must have been some party.” He laughed before disappearing belowdecks.

  The lights in the small cabin flickered on.

  “So where is your groom? Don’t tell me he couldn’t keep up with you and went to bed already?”

  “He’s back at Nitsa’s, sleeping.”

  “Not a good omen for the wedding night.” He chuckled, but just as the laugh escaped, Yianni brought both hands to his mouth in mock horror. “You know I’m only joking, don’t you?”

  She shook her head and smiled at him. Yes, she knew this time that he was only joking. “Can I ask you a question?” She inched closer to the kaiki.

  “Of course, anything.”

  “How has Yia-yia seemed to you lately? I mean really, how does she seem to you? Do you think she’s changed at all?”

  “Changed? Of course she has—she’s never been happier now that you and Evie are here. It’s like she is a young woman again.”

  A fresh wave of guilt overtook Daphne. This was good news for the moment, while they were together, but what would happen after she and Evie left again? “I guess what I want to know . . .”

  Yianni reached his hand out to her. She took it without hesitation. He wrapped his callused fingers around her wrist and guided her onboard.

  Her chin tilted up, face-to-face with him now on the kaiki deck as she finished her question. “I guess what I want to know is, do you see any problems with Yia-yia? I’m worried about her, that she might be losing it, at least a little bit.”

  “Losing what?”

  Daphne inhaled. “Losing her mind, Yianni. I’m afraid she’s losing her mind.”

  They stood in silence as Yianni processed what Daphne was saying. He finally opened his mouth to speak, but when he did, they were not the words Daphne expected to hear.

  “Hurry, come with me into the cabin. Now.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him. Daphne teetered off balance. She landed chest to chest, virtually on top of the man whom she instantly chided herself for having trusted. He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Come with me now.” The urgency in his voice panicked her.

  What’s wrong with me? What was I thinking? She felt the tears well up, furious with herself for being so naive, for thinking for a moment she could trust him. “What are you doing? Let me go.”

  “I’m telling you”—he moved closer, his breath hot on her face—“for the last time, Daphne, come with me into the cabin.”

  “No. No,” she hissed. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She snatched her arm away and again lunged for the dock. He let her go this time.

  “Fine, go. But when the other fishermen see you scurrying away from my boat in the middle of the night, exactly what do you think they’re going to say? Exactly what do you think their wives will say when they bring this bit of gossip home along with their fish later this morning? There’s nothing like a scandal to liven up a summer, and you, Daphne, with your stubbornness, are about to deliver the biggest one in years.”

  She froze, still precariously situated with one foot on the kaiki and one on the dock. She could hear faint voices coming from the other end of the port and knew he was telling the truth. There was nothing the bored and righteous wives of the fishermen loved more than to dissect a woman’s virtue. And a visiting Amerikanida’s reputation was always a favorite topic. Now, with so much at stake, the last thing Daphne needed was to be fodder for the Erikousa gossip mill. Looking straight ahead into the darkness, Daphne blindly reached behind herself. She felt the familiar callused fingers latch on and in one fluid motion pull her back onboard and belowdecks.

  “I’m sorry, I guess I thought—”

  “Yes.” He motioned for her to sit on the small cushioned bench. “Yes, please, tell me. Tell me, Daphne, what exactly did you think?” It was more a command than a question.

  Her mind raced to Nitsa and the story she had shared about Yianni and Sophia falling all over each other that drunken night at the hotel. From the moment Nitsa had told her the story, an image of Yianni and Sophia locked in a passionate embrace had been seared in Daphne’s mind. “I, I just thought . . . ,” she stammered, not sure how or if to come clean. “All right, I thought you were hitting on me. Trying to take advantage of me.”

  “Take advantage of you? Another man’s fiancée?”

  “Yes.” The word tasted sour in her mouth.

  “That’s brilliant, Daphne, just brilliant.” He was seething, his hand pulled into a fist.

  “Well, it’s not like it would have been the first time.” In an effort to climb out of the very large and very deep hole she had dug for herself, Daphne was well aware that she had just caused the hole to cave in around her.

  “What are you talking about?” Yianni’s eyes were wide. She wasn’t quite sure if she was seeing confusion or rage, or perhaps a bit of both.

  “I know about Sophia, about what happens after you get drunk with her at the hotel. So, I thought you were trying the same thing with me.” She attempted to smooth the still-damp fabric of her dress, but the effort was futile, as was her explanation.

  Yianni stared at her. “I gave you more credit than this, Amerikanida. You believe those stories?”

  “Actually, I don’t know what stories to believe anymore. But yes, I heard it was true.”

  “Sophia is lonely, and her loneliness causes her to drink too much sometimes. I have helped her home many nights, even brought her home to her bed when she was too far gone to stand up. And yes, for my efforts she has rewarded me many times.” His eyes were glowing now. “Yes, Daphne. Sophia has thanked me many times for bringing her home to bed.”

  Daphne inched away from him. Yia-yia was wrong about Yianni, just as she had been wrong about Stephen, wrong about women’s voices dancing on the breeze. She wanted nothing more than to escape this cabin, escape this web of lies and get as far away from Yianni as quickly as possible.

  He watched as Daphne crept closer and closer to the stairs, and finally he moved aside to let her pass, but not without first finishing what he had to say. “She thanks me with meals, Daphne. Nothing ever close to your or your yia-yia’s food, but it’s the only thing she has ever offered, and the only thing I have ever taken from
her. Food. Not sex. I know your other story was far more interesting, but this one is the truth.”

  She knew in her bones it was. Daphne sank her head into her hands. “I’m so sorry.” Embarrassed, ashamed, and somehow flushed, despite the chill of her still damp dress, she looked at him. The familiar flutter was once again working its way up her windpipe. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know.” The mischief was erased from his face. It was replaced with a crinkled smile. “But don’t listen to those harpies. You’re better than that.”

  The voices on the dock were now clear as day. Yianni stood in the small galley and drew the curtain. He filled the briki with water and placed it on the hot plate. “Now, tell me, what were you saying about Thea Evangelia?” Outside, the dawn was finally breaking through the darkness.

  Daphne sank into her seat, thankful that he seemed to have forgiven her. “I—I was asking if you had noticed anything about her. If you think she has deteriorated in any way—”

  “Actually, I think she seems stronger now, like she saved her energy for you and Evie. Like she is reborn in your presence.”

  “But what about her mind? Yianni, I feel like she’s losing her grip on reality.” As much as she wanted to open up and trust Yianni, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what Yia-yia had said about Stephen and the wedding. She fully believed that he loved Yia-yia and had her best interest in mind. It was how he felt about her that she still couldn’t quite get a handle on.

  “Here, you are shivering.” He tossed her a blanket before pouring two cups of the coffee and coming to join her at the table. “What makes you think your yia-yia is not well?”

  “She’s saying the strangest things, Yianni. I know she’s always believed the island spoke to her, that she could hear whispers in the breeze. But it’s different now. You know, it’s one thing to read a coffee cup and tell someone they’ll have good luck or that the fish will bite, but it’s another thing to listen to these legends as if they were facts. She really believes the island is speaking to her. That it’s telling her what to do.” She stared into the cup. Telling me what to do.