by Kahn, Denise
Nico rowed all night and reached the shores of the mainland. His arms ached horribly, and he thought a million ants were stabbing his back. He crawled out of the boat and painfully pulled it ashore. He slumped down on the sand. It was still dark and he fell asleep exhausted. But he didn’t sleep for long as the sun slowly crept out of its nocturnal hiding place and its warmth caressed his young face. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. It was early and no one was about. He ate only an orange, not knowing how long his food stash would last him. Nico then headed toward the village he had seen from the beach. In the main square of the still sleeping village he spotted a lone two-horse cart with enclosed wooden sides and roof. He heard goats bleating inside while two men chatted next to the horses in front of a small grocery store.
“Have a good trip. Have fun in Athens!” One of them said.
“I intend to. I just need to get some wine for the trip.” The other man replied, going into the store.
Athens! Nico saw his opportunity and quickly untied the rope holding the doors together in the back of the cart. He entered quietly, closed the doors behind him, retied the rope, and crouched behind the wall of the front. Through the slats of wood he saw the man exiting the store and climb onto the driver’s bench behind the horses. He shouted a command and they took off. Nico took in his surroundings. The goats were chewing and staring at him. Next to him a mother was feeding her kid. He smiled for the first time since the accident and relaxed. He positioned himself against the wall and promptly fell into a deep sleep.
Nico felt something rough against his cheek. He opened his eyes and almost screamed. The mother goat was licking his face. At first he was scared, and then he realized that she probably thought Nico was one of her kids. Nico pet her and then gently took one of her teats and drank heartily. “Thank you, mama goat,” he whispered. He thought of his own mother, of the great man his father had been, of the devastation of the last twenty-four hours and of his life on Oniraki. That was all in the past now and Nico knew he had to go forward. I will succeed, he swore to himself, I will!
Six days later they arrived in Athens. They stopped in the heart of the city, in Omonia Square. The man jumped off the bench and went into a store. Nico pet the goats that had been his companions for the past few days, kissed ‘mama goat’ and quickly got out of the cart. One thing he had learned for sure: He would be able to smell a goat a mile away, and would never eat their meat again.
He walked up a boulevard and noticed a shop filled with books. It was the largest bookstore he had ever seen in his life and he was fascinated. He looked at his reflection in the glass window. He remembered his upbringing; the way his lovely mother shopped the best European clothes for him, the education his parents provided, the sumptuous dinners and the prominent invited guests that had been a normal occurrence. Seeing himself in the window he grimaced at a beat up scarecrow wearing rags. His face was at the top of his almost unrecognizable self. He wondered what life had in store for him. His eyes filled with tears, but he was not one to give up so easily and he had an idea. He turned into a secluded alley, took off the filthy clothes he had been wearing since the fire, put on the clean ones from his satchel, combed his hair with his fingers, spat in his hands and ‘washed’ his face. He shoved his dirty garments and his bag into a corner in the alley and walked back to the store.
Nico stepped inside apprehensively, almost afraid that he was not allowed to be there, but no one said anything or seemed to notice. He stood in the middle of the store, motionless until he realized that something was pulling at him, like invisible hands. But there wasn’t anyone near him, and then he understood—it was the aroma of the books. They were the ones pulling him. He looked around and lovingly touched some of the works. They had a personality, a heart, a soul all their own, great wisdom and knowledge. At that very moment young Nico was flooded with emotion. For a few seconds he forgot the devastation at Oniraki, the explosions, his parents among the dead floating bodies, the suffocating stench of the mass grave of rotting cadavers and the beasts of all sizes feasting on them. He knew he had found the path to what would be a lifelong passion and his destiny. He stood for a few minutes staring, and then decided his life would be surrounded by books. Nico boldly went up to the manager, making himself taller, with as much maturity as an adult, or so he thought, and spoke to the portly man in the corner (who had been staring at him the entire time).
“Sir, may I speak to you?”
“What is it, young man?” The man said, through his thick mustache.
“I would like a job.” There, he said it, as professionally as he could muster.
“What can you do?”
“Anything! You name it, I can do it,” Nico said confidently.
The heavy man raised an eyebrow and then his big belly started shaking as he laughed. “Are you strong?”
“Yes, sir, very.”
“And confident as hell,” the older man muttered under his breath. “Uh, yes, well, I need a delivery boy. Can you carry bundles of newspapers?”
“Of course! No problem.”
“Good. Then you start tomorrow morning at four o’clock.
“Really? I mean, yes, sir, of course, no problem.” Nico realized that he had been holding his breath, and he finally exhaled.
“Alright, Mister of course no problem, tomorrow morning it is.”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir. Uh, sir…”
“Yes? Is there something else?”
“How much will I be earning?” Nico said inflating his chest, and remembering his father saying that one had to know every detail of one’s own business.
“What is you name?”
“Nico.”
“Alright, Nico, here’s the deal: You will be on trial for one week. If you work out, I’ll pay you a fair salary, if you don’t I’ll give you some money for your trouble.”
Young Nico looked at him and thought for a moment. He was starving. He had eaten everything Sylvie had packed for him. He would need some money to get him through the week. What he had wasn’t enough.
“Sir, that sounds like a fair deal to me, but I need the money now.”
“Now? Not possible. I cannot pay you in advance for something you haven’t done yet.”
“I understand that and I trust you. I am asking you to trust me. You will not regret it, I’ll be a loyal worker.” The shop owner shook his head—no deal. “Alright, here’s what I’m offering,” Nico said.
“What you’re offering?”
“Yes.”
“And just what would that be?” The heavy man said, intrigued.
“All I have left from my family is this cross,” Nico said, taking it off his neck. “Hold on to it for the week. If I disappear you will have even more than the week’s advance.” The man looked at him keenly and then at the cross. It was a beautiful solid gold cross and must have cost a lot of money, certainly more than even one month’s wages. This one has a mind for business, he reflected.
“You have a deal, young man.” The storeowner handed him some bills.
“Thank you, sir. Oh, one more thing,” Nico said assertively.
“More? What else?”
“You allow me take any book without charge and I’ll bring it back to you the way I found it. If it is not, even if there is a scratch, you take it out of my salary.” Nico held his breath again.
The man looked him over. This boy was interesting. He could read and he was hungry, hungry for knowledge. “This is important to you?”
“Yes, sir, very much so.”
“Just the way you found it?”
“Just the way I found it, yes, sir.”
“You have a deal.”
“Thank you, sir.” Nico wanted to jump and shout he was so excited, but restrained himself.
“You’re welcome. Now, be here at four o’clock sharp.”
“Yes, sir.” Nico held out his hand. The older man looked at it and grinned. This boy had manners too, he mused. He took his hand and shook it. Nico n
odded.
“Oh, one more thing.”
“Sir?”
“Before you leave, go to the corner and get me a cheese pie and a coffee.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And get one for yourself.” He gave Nico some change.
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” The older man knew the boy was starving. He was sure that was the reason he needed the money and he was impressed that Nico didn’t just go and steal the food he needed. No, he was smarter than that.
Nico returned from the little coffee shop with a coffee and the cheese pie. His own slice was wrapped in paper and safe in his pocket. He gave the storeowner the change and bade him good night. Manoli watched him and wondered why he smelled like a goat.
Nico started walking. He didn’t remember the city much. He had come once with his mother when he was small but nothing seemed very familiar. He walked up the boulevard and arrived in an older part of the city, the Plaka. The gas lamps on the streets were being lit and people were strolling about having dinner at outside tavernas. The atmosphere was light and happy. Nico watched them eating, dancing, enjoying a pastry or listening to the guitars and bouzoukis played by musicians in the streets. He recognized familiar folk tunes and longed for his island and his parents, remembering the good times at their mansion on Oniraki. He thought of his voyage to Athens and the books, all those books in one place. He felt lighter and looked for a place to spend the night. He saw lovely aristocratic homes around the neighborhood, and then spotted an old destroyed house. Only the foundation and the walls were still standing. Nico slowly opened the rusty black iron gate and entered into a square patio. There was a well in one corner. Its sides were broken and it was filled with old brown leaves. This must have been a wonderful house at one time, the boy thought, I wonder what happened. He carefully looked inside and entered. He walked through the debris to the staircase, which was no more than rough stones, and followed it up. There was a landing but no floor. He could see the ground floor from where he stood. One more step and he would be back at the bottom, instead he continued up the next flight, which did have a floor. There were several rooms. He entered into one of them and went to an open square which at one time housed a window. He looked out and gasped. He could see the entire city of Athens. What a view! He stared in amazement at the beautiful city. In the distance directly ahead stood St. George’s church on Mount Lycabettus, and to the side the Parthenon towered at the top of the Acropolis. One day I will buy and rebuild this house, Nico said to himself. As with the books, he had fallen in love with this mansion. He sat on the floor, leaned against the wall and carefully took out the cheese pie from his pocket. He ate it slowly, savoring every bite. When he finished he looked out of the bare window and watched the moon blanch the temple of Athena. Nico fell asleep with a smile on his face.
At four o’clock the next morning Nico stood outside the bookstore. His employer was pleased.
“Take these bundles and deliver them to these stores,” the owner said, handing him a list. Nico looked at the huge stack of newspapers and said: “Of course, no problem.” The portly man nodded and turned away, amused at the young man’s enthusiasm.
Nico grabbed the string on the top bundle and lifted it in his arms. He felt the muscles in his back pull and swore at his stupidity. But he learned fast. He put one on each shoulder and took off for the first stop on his list. He returned to the bookshop by midday. The owner looked at him. “Did you finish?” He asked. Nico nodded. His legs felt like jelly but he was pleased with himself. He had found all the stores and delivered the newspapers quickly.
“Well, then, you are free for the rest of the day.”
“All those newspapers I delivered were in foreign languages.”
“Yes, I am the sole distributor of foreign press—books and newspapers in Greece.” Nico nodded, enthused about his find. He disregarded the pain in his back and his legs and looked around.
“I’m going to pick out a book.” The owner gestured to the store. Nico found a book he was interested in and left. On his way to the Plaka he made a pact with himself—to read every book in the store, including the daily and weekly newspapers, whether he found the subject interesting or not. Young Count Nicolaos Malandros di Fontina was set on giving himself the best education possible—and once again being somebody. Somebody worth something, someone who counted in society, someone civilized, someone who didn’t try to kill fifteen year old boys because of ignorance. He was determined to clear his family’s name. He swore it would once again be a proud and dignified name in Greece.
He stopped at a little food shop on his way to the house. He picked up some bread and olives—the least expensive food he could buy. He also purchased a big candle, some matches, a pencil and a notebook. He looked at the money he had left and quickly figured out what he could spend until he would be paid. He looked at a blanket and some soap. He chose the soap. He would have to wait for the blanket, he didn’t have enough. But Nico wasn’t worried, the Athenian nights were pleasant and it was summer.
Every day Nico dutifully delivered his newspapers, and Manoli, the storeowner, grew very fond of him. The boy was a hard worker, and he finished his duties quickly. He thought that maybe he did it running. And then one day he understood. Young Nico had organized himself to make up time so that he could read. He was smart, and a ravenous reader. Apparently he had had some schooling. He even read the newspapers as he ran the deliveries. Manoli also noticed that he was quite interested in the business section. He wondered what he was up to.
“Kyrie Manoli, Mister Manoli,” Nico called out to him one day.
“What is it, Nico?”
“I would like to make a suggestion.”
“Is your salary not good enough?”
“No, no, it is fine. Unless of course you want to increase it, and I wouldn’t mind.”
Manoli laughed. “So, what is your suggestion?”
“The layout of the store. Perhaps if we changed some of the shelves around it would make it more efficient. People would be able to find the books they are looking for much faster.” Nico looked at Manoli. He didn’t want to upset him. He was known for his temper, although deep down Nico knew he had a soft spot in his heart. He quickly continued. “And you would make more sales.”
“Go on.”
“And we could catalog the books—by author, by category, by…”
“Bah, that’s sounds like a lot of work!”
“I would be glad to do it. And if you like what I do then you can increase my salary.” He added quickly: “Because you would be making more money of course.”
“You think so, eh?” Nico nodded. Manoli looked at him. Maybe the boy had a point. “You have a deal. Tomorrow the store is closed, you can do it then.”
“But it’s my day off.” Nico had been dreaming all week of just reading.
“So that’s perfect. You can do it tomorrow.”
Nico had just learned another lesson—be better prepared. “Alright, it’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Manoli. The heavy man laughed and shook it.
“Take a set of keys,” Manoli said, handing them over to him.
That night Nico sat in his favorite room at the top of the broken house. He was on the floor surrounded by the large lit candle and papers with sketches on them. He stared at them and then put them in order. He marked the pages with numbers. I have to be organized or I will never get this done in one day, he thought. The candle had burned down considerably and it was late. Nico looked at his papers one more time, happy with the results. He had been at it for hours. He blew out the little fire and immediately fell asleep.
The ‘alarm clock’ (the rooster down the street) woke him up. He rubbed his eyes and smiled remembering his project of the day. He hurried to his mission.
When Manoli walked into his store the next morning he wasn’t sure where he was. He cursed himself as well as Nico, for letting himself be talked into such a folly. Nothing was in its place. And then he really looked around and
marveled at the transformation. His store looked twice as big! All the books were neatly on shelves, dusted and standing at attention like the best formation of soldiers in a parade. Even the newspapers and magazines were rearranged in order of their language. The store was cleaner than it had ever been, but mostly he understood that it had been done with great care and much love. Suddenly, he jumped. He realized that Nico was standing behind him.
“What have you done?” Manoli growled.
Nico’s smile quickly faded. He was almost in tears. He thought for sure Manoli would have approved of the transformation. “You don’t like it?” He asked, almost whispering.
“No. I love it!” Manoli said, hugging the younger man. “You have done a wonderful job! You deserve a reward.” Nico beamed as his heart tried to burst through his chest. He wondered, though, what the heavy man had in mind. “Tonight when we close, we will go out and celebrate. I will buy you dinner and we can discuss more of your ideas,” Manoli said joyfully. Nico thought this was one of the best days of his life. “Now, tell me where everything is so I don’t look like a complete idiot when customers come in,” he roared.
Manoli and Nico were sitting at a taverna in Plaka. It was the best meal Nico had had in months and he ate hungrily. Manoli was very fond of the young man and learned about his family history. He was amazed at his story and listened carefully to his dreams and ambitions. My God, Manoli thought, I have a little Count working for me—one that smelled like a goat, he chuckled to himself. Nico also learned that Manoli had once been married, but now he was alone. His wife and daughter perished during an epidemic.
