The Greek Persuasion

by Kimberly K. Robeson

  It’s another day and I wake with a fresh disposition. I jump out of bed, splash my face with water, go downstairs, get my coffee, and, back in my room, stretch out my yoga mat. I start with Warrior poses today, then Tree. I stand; my hands are in prayer pose and my leg is making a “less than” symbol with my foot resting comfortably on my inner thigh. I decide to close my eyes. I wobble for a bit but am able to hold it for a few minutes, such a different pose with the eyes closed. Normally when I close my eyes in Tree, I fall over immediately, but not today. I switch legs, a small wiggle, and then I’m motionless like a statue; even with my eyes closed, I am balanced. After Tree, I move into Dancer, again, feeling so centered that all the poses take minimal effort and fill me with a sense of tranquility. After a few standing poses, I sit on the ground, cross my legs and roll out my shoulders. I stop, take a few sips of coffee, close my eyes, and just listen to the sounds. Everything sounds enchanting. I hear birds, the splashing of the sea, even the children’s voices that echo up to my rooftop sound pleasant. While I have my eyes closed, an image of Gabriel places itself before my dropped eyelids. His face once more brings a smile to mine. I imagine him licking his lips after eating the panna cotta, and I almost giggle. I think about changing my road trip plans and staying a few extra days here, maybe I would get to see him again.

  After my morning yoga, I walk over to the car rental place. I confirm my reservation for the following day, but ask, just ask, about the availability for the following week. The man says it’s all set, but next week they will have cars, too. If I want to change the date, it won’t be a problem.

  I just stand there.

  The man asks me again if I still want the car tomorrow, or if I want to change the date. “No, thank you. I am leaving tomorrow,” my lips say.

  Everything in me tells me I must not change the date. My heart and mind “hands” are connected, shaking in agreement: don’t change your plans. So, I get maps and the gentleman shows me all the main roads, where it’s nice to stop, where I can stay the night. I plan to drive to Meteora, spend the day there, then continue to a quaint town of Metsovo, stay two nights there, just relax and take a few day-hikes. The drive back will take me about four hours without stopping. I think that I’ll come back to Kamena Vourla, maybe for a few nights, then leave again to see Delphi since they are not in the same direction. I thank the man and tell him I will be by tomorrow morning early, 7:15 a.m., to get the car. He tells me he can bring the car to me tonight and drop off the keys as Kyria Akrivi is his mom’s cousin’s aunt, so he knows where I am staying. “Perfect,” I reply, thinking I won’t have to cart my suitcase around town at some ungodly hour. It’s all set, and I am excited, happy again.

  This last week has certainly been tumultuous, from the adventure with the Brits to a fabulous first date. Meeting Gabriel was interesting, to say the least, but I am glad to be back to normal, thankful for the time we shared, but also resigned to leave it at that: one enchanting evening. I am grounded and light.

  I eat an early lunch with Kyria Akrivi and her three new guests from Australia. A bit of small talk, then I head back to my room. I’m full and debate taking a nap, but decide to go down to the beach, read a bit, maybe nap on the chaise lounge.

  It’s really hot, so I have the umbrella all the way open and am wearing a big Audrey Hepburn-style black hat and large sunglasses. My knees are bent with my book propped up on my thighs. I am finally enjoying Blonde again despite my heavy eyes. I can feel them slowly falling, so I set my book down and travel to my peaceful dream world.

  Thair’s Story

  Her eyes felt too heavy to open them, but she sensed someone had come and sat down beside her. She felt the presence stand up, bend over, and a kiss was placed on her cheek. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw everything blurry. Her hat hung low in her face, and her glasses were stained with sweat. The sun was bright, but even though she could not see him, his voice was unmistakable.

  “Hello, pretty Thair.”

  Suddenly jolted, wide-awake, she took off her hat, peeled off her glasses, wiped the sweat from her eyes, and saw a figure that she wanted to recognize, but (because he was not supposed to be there) was not sure if what she saw was real.

  So he spoke again, “How are you?”

  “Gabriel?”

  “Yes, Thair, it’s me!” he said enthusiastically.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I am back,” he said proudly with his shoulders pulled back as if on a podium receiving the gold medal.

  “But you are not supposed to be back for a few days.”

  “I know. But I should never left. I was on the boat the next day after our dinner, thinking: Gabriel, why did you leave? So as soon as I got there, I was so mad. I tried to leave the same night, but there were no more sheeps, so I stayed, and then this morning, first sheep back, I’m here!” Again, he said this with chest inflated. “I will see my friends in a few days in Athina, at the airport.”

  Then he added with a huge, confident smile: “I am yours until Saturday!”

  Yours until Saturday?

  Was this guy crazy? His reaction did seem young, totally presumptuous, but Thair actually loved his spontaneity.

  She squinted her eyes, her brows furrowed, a zillion thoughts zipping through her mind.

  “Thair, say something.” His eyes appeared a bit worried, the life sucked out of them. “Are you not happy to see me?”

  Thair eventually allowed a grin to appear, thinking this couldn’t be happening. “Of course, I am happy to see you … but …”

  Sad, bulldog eyes again, “Why you say ‘but’?”

  “Well, I had planned to leave Kamena Vourla for a few days. I rented a car and am leaving tomorrow for Meteora. Remember the monasteries I told you about that—”

  Cutting her off, he exclaimed: “That is great! I go with you!”

  Her stomach rolled, his excitement contagious. Did she, all of a sudden, have a road trip partner? And was this what she really wanted?

  But before she could share his pleasure, he became deathly serious. “Thair, you leave tomorrow for how many days?”

  “For about three or four.”

  Silence. Dark, gloomy eyes, “You were not going to be here when I get back! Why, Thair?”

  Gosh, this was getting more complicated than she wanted. This sudden change of mood, was this the grumpy side that he had warned her about? Or did he have due cause to be upset? How would she have felt if the tables were turned?

  “Gabriel, I wasn’t trying to not be here.” (She didn’t feel like she was lying. She had really made these decisions on gut instincts.) “I just felt listless. I couldn’t imagine just sitting around hoping you would come back. And then if you did, then what? One more day together and you are off to Peru, and I go back to the US? And now that you mention it, maybe it is not such a great idea that you go with me. I don’t know if we should spend more time together.”

  He bent down on the sand, eye level with her, thinking, just looking, then through the silence he asked: “Thair, why are you scared?”

  “Gabriel, I am not afraid. I just don’t see a future for us, and I don’t think I am interested in a short summer fling just to feel heartbroken at the end of it all.”

  A half smile. “So, I can break your heart?” He always knew how to hold on to the words that counted.

  Without wanting to, she was smiling. “Yes … I guess … you may be able to.” Why was she allowing him to see her this vulnerable?

  “I like that.” A large grin.

  “You like that you can, possibly, break my heart? That’s not very nice.”

  “Thair, I am nice! And I am happy because I can only break your heart if you give it to me. And since you say I … maybe … can break it, then maybe one day, I will have it.” Then he added, “But I will not break it. You will see.”

  Shakespeare’s eloquence, his words often left Thair speechless, and now, these simple phrases, strangely enough, had the same powerful e
ffect. She lay there lost for words. But he still had words, simple clear words: “So, I am happy. I forgive you for wanting to leave early. Now, trust me and let us have fun, yes?”

  “Gabriel … shoot … okay. But I will go on record saying that this is probably not a good idea for either of us.”

  “You have a record?” This time, she knew he was teasing. “Really, Thair, do not say that. You do not know. Look, let us go see these mountain churches and then, if we like each other still, you come and see the mountain on my T-shirt.” His face glowed and then he winked, “Remember, you still have one more chance to tell me the name.”

  “I already know the name,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  “Really?” He looked skeptical. “Then tell me what it is called.”

  “Hmmm … I don’t know if I want to use my chance now. You said you would take me there if I could tell you the name. But what if I don’t want to go there?” she said mischievously.

  “Okay, no more talk of my Peruvian mountain. We go see Greek mountains together. At the end of our trip, if you still like me, you tell me the name; then we go to my mountain together. And you meet my four sisters. And my mother. And all my tias.” He laughed out loud as did she.

  They shook hands playfully. Then he leaned over and gave her a long kiss. It tasted like a mix of Marlboros and mints. She could not hold it together, every orifice in her body stimulated.

  “Let’s swim!” she said as she jumped to her feet and instantly got a head rush, “I need to cool off.” He laughed, knowing entirely too well what she meant.

  30

  Wednesday, July 27th

  I reread the words I wrote last night, put my laptop in its pink case, and skip down the stairs. The Fiat Panda is parked in front of Kyria Akrivi’s building. When I reach the bottom floor, I see Gabriel waiting for me by the car with a reasonably-sized suitcase. He greets me with a gentle peck on the lips while Kyria Akrivi stands at the door, watching without one ounce of discretion.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes!” Gabriel looks entirely too alert for 7:02 a.m. Last night was mellow, a souvlaki dinner, a few beers, a few kisses, more conversation, but I shooed him away before midnight because I wanted to pack, write, and sleep well.

  “Would you like me to drive? Gabriel asks.

  “I can start off, and then we switch later. How does that sound?”

  “Great!” more enthusiasm. “I was wondering … I know it will be early for shops to be open, but I heard that the first big city, Lamia, has some good sales. Can we have a coffee and walk and look at windows for just a few minutes?”

  All those hard, epiglottal “Hs,” I must be smitten because everything out of Gabriel comes across as endearing.

  “So, what you think?”

  Shopping. Sure. A man after my own heart. “That sounds fine, but maybe no more than half hour because it will take us more than three hours to get to Meteora.” I annoy myself with my teacherly tone.

  Lamia is a city of concrete. It is far too hot at 7:45 a.m., and few souls stir in the town’s center. We find, by smell, a bakery; fresh bread and croissants have just come out of the oven. I get a Nutella-filled croissant and Gabriel gets two tyropitas, a croissant with ham and cheese, two small boxes of juice, and a coffee. I have no idea where he will put all that food, but in less than fifteen minutes he devours it all, looking like a happy Boy Scout, rubbing his tummy and licking his lips. I take my hand, bring it to his face, and wipe away a piece of phyllo dough that is on his cheek as he gazes at me. There are no words, just comfort. We see a few shops, but nothing catches my attention, and Gabriel doesn’t seem impressed either, so we are on our way again by 8:15 a.m.

  When we get back in the car, he is wearing a devilish grin and staring at me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He doesn’t say anything but unzips his backpack and says: “I have a present for you.” A present? I have never been good at receiving presents though I love to give them. What could it be? I am curious and, admittedly, excited. Looking all too pleased, he hands me a homemade CD. I open it and, on the cover, handwritten, it says: “For my Pretty Thair. To Mountains of Amor.” I read the inscription again. “Mountains of Amor.” He may be an accountant, but his way with words is poetic in its own right.

  I lean over and give him a kiss. “When did you make this?”

  “When I get stuck on Skiathos, I went to a music shop and asked them to burn a CD for me with my favorite Spanish songs … they couldn’t find all I wanted, but … the ones they find, they remind me of you. I also added one that will be a surprise.” He looks almost shy, but very pleased.

  My insides are warm and disgustingly emotional. I can’t help but remember the last time someone put music together for me, probably eighth grade when my first boyfriend made a cassette tape with my favorite songs. Now, more than twenty years later, a CD has been burned for me, and I am actually touched by the gesture.

  I had asked for a car with a CD player, so I slide it in, and the first song starts. It is a dance song with an upbeat rhythm. I can kind of make out the words to the refrain, so I ask him about the lyrics.

  “The song is called ‘No Puedo Olvidarme de Ti.’ It says something like: I can’t forget about you,” he replies.

  “Oh.” I have no other comment. I just continue to listen intently. Another song plays that sounds entirely too sad, and as it blares from the speakers, he sings along in his sexy voice.

  “What did she say there?”

  He laughs. “I really like all these songs, but not all are perfect, yes?”

  “So …?”

  “The guy says to his lover that he must leave because his wife desires him back.”

  “Great.” I respond.

  “Thair, you so funny. I like the man’s voice, the words are inadequate, but … sssssh … now listen, this one is important. This song I put because you will sing it to me one day,” he says with a smirk while turning up the volume. I think I recognize the voice. I remember hearing this song somewhere … was it at Emily’s wedding? I stop thinking and just listen to the words:

  You are my heart, you are my soul,

  take my heart with your hand,

  hold it tight, don’t let it go …

  The words enter me. I don’t think I have ever spoken such words to anyone and now, in this car, Gabriel thinks that I will be capable of saying these things to him one day. Take my heart with your hand. My brain-hand and heart-hand are reaching for each other … my God … are they connecting?

  After the song is over, he places his hand on mine, and speaks quietly, “It is beautiful, don’t you think?”

  I have to agree. Tears well up in my eyes, tears for what I am not sure. I look away in embarrassment, feeling entirely too sentimental. I see a rest stop and pull over.

  “Thair, are you okay? You look sad.”

  “Sad? No, I am fine!” Then wanting to break the all-too-serious moment, I shriek, “I just really need to pee!” I stop the engine and ask, “How about you?”

  “No, I am good.”

  After a quick stop, back in the car, he asks me if I want to hear more of the CD. “Of course,” I say hoping there are no more love songs because I’m already on the ledge. I hear more Spanish songs that are fun, dance rhythms, a pause, another song is about to start; he gets really excited and turns up the volume: “Now listen! This is also for you!”

  I, honestly, don’t think I can handle another song of adoration, but when I hear the first two beats, a huge smile pulls at my cheeks.

  “You remembered!” I squeal.

  “Of course! You said this was one of your favorite songs, makes you want to dance!” As “You Shook Me All Night Long” blasts out of the speakers, I put the volume on full, so now it’s a bit scratchy, but still sounds much too good. I let loose with reckless abandon, screamsinging in my horrible voice while I bounce up and down in the seat. Gabriel looks over at me and chuckles. He, too, knows most of the
words, so we are singing together and simply having a jolly time. After the song is over, he turns down the volume, “Thair, you are funny. You make me laugh.”

  “You make me laugh, too, Gabriel.”

  The next song makes him a bit serious again, “This one is for you … but this is a song I will sing to you one day.” It’s in Spanish, but I don’t ask him to translate. I do catch the words “quiero” and “amor” and “corazon.” Words I do remember from my two years of Spanish. He asks me if he should translate; I tell him it’s not necessary, so he just sings to me with his hand gently leaning on my leg. A part of me is curious, but I want to keep it real since the last few hours have been a bit too fairy tale-ish.

  From the map and the directions the man at the rental place gave me, I can see we are on the long stretch of road between the cities of Lamia and Karditsa. The road reminds me of the road to Oz, flatlands lie to the left and right of the two-lane highway. One car whizzes by dangerously close, but then there isn’t another car in sight for miles. I can see the long, straight stretch of road before me, about 40 km of pavement placed between wide-open fields, a very different landscape than one I have ever experienced in Greece.

  “It is amazing,” Gabriel says as he looks out the window.

  “Yes, it is.”

  The CD ends, and we drive in a comfortable silence for a while. I tell him we should be reaching a small town called Karditsa in a bit, but because I am afraid that the monasteries may close early, we should make it a quick stop. At the cafenio, old men are playing backgammon and smoking cigarettes. The women are at a different table and one gets up and helps us. We get Nescafe frappés to-go and are back on our way.