“Thair,” he comes over to me, gives me another hug.
From intense frustration, his warm arms around me feel so strangely comforting. We stand like this for a while and don’t talk. He’s rubbing my back. Then he draws a little away from me, gazes into my eyes and, fuck, is he trying to kiss me? I jerk myself away.
“Sorry, Thair. I don’t know what came over me,” he says, genuinely contrite.
“I think it’s time for you to go. Please tell your mom thank you for thinking about me, and thanks for coming over, but I am fine.”
Defeat overpowers me. I shut the door behind him. I take the urn off the shelf and place it on the floor in front of me; sitting crosslegged, I bend my head, my forehead touching the cool metal lid, and weep.
Our Story
Island of Kythnos, Greece
Mid July, 1989
Thair had just gotten out of the shower and was about ready to walk onto the balcony when she heard the whispered voices of her mother and grandmother. They were speaking in Greek, but it went something like this:
“Mama, have I disappointed you?”
A long pause. Then Thair’s yiayia answered, “No.”
“Then why do you hesitate to answer?”
“Because I am not disappointed with your choices, I am just sorry how they turned out.”
“Because Gordon and I got divorced?”
“Because you never fell deeply in love with Gordon.”
“Mama, I did love him, not completely, but I loved him enough. I loved him the way I saw you love Babba—enough.”
“I wish I showed your father more how much I loved him. He was a good man, a very good man, but I didn’t realize that until he was gone.”
“So you were in love with him?”
“Phaedra, I loved him.” She was not going to say more.
They sat quietly for a moment, staring into the sunset, sipping their Greek afternoon coffee.
Then Phaedra spoke, “Mama, I worry about Thair.”
“I don’t. She’s a strong young woman. She will make wise choices. She has choices that you and I never had. She will find happiness. You’ll see.”
“And what about us?” Thair’s mother said as she sat closer to her own mama, putting her head on Dita’s shoulder.
Thair saw her yiayia smile. “We are strong women, too. We will be fine.”
33
Thair’s Story
Encinitas, CA May 15th, 2006
Thair was sitting in Pannikin. It was the fifth month of the new year, and the San Diego sun was beating heavy on her shoulders, heating her body, and making her sunglasses slip off her face. It was good being around people again. Last night Rick threw Thair a surprise thirty-seventh birthday dinner at The Brigantine. About ten friends, including Emily and her husband, Mark, all showed up with gifts and heartwarming cards. Frank arrived late with a dozen yellow roses for Thair and a single red one for Rick. Frank and Rick still lived separately and were tentative around each other, but Thair could see something good happening again. When Frank laughed, Rick seemed lighter than he had in months. At one point, Frank and Thair had a quiet moment talking about their mothers; they both got a bit choked up but were also able to smile after each shared a fond and funny memory about each of these women. The entire night made Thair feel appreciated and loved, and not so alone. Much different than how she had felt at the beginning of the year when she had invitations for lunches and dinners but had always declined. Almost all winter break, she had spent alone in her condo with her mom’s cat, Pussaki. She even liked the little critter now and looked forward to the meows that greeted her every day after work.
For Christmas dinner, she was invited over to Emily’s, but with the new baby and several of Mark’s friends coming over, she really wanted something a bit quieter, so she decided instead to spend it with her father and his wife at the La Costa Resort. It was a cold dinner, but the company was good enough, and the champagne was even better. There were actually a few laughs during dinner with the two boys, her stepbrothers, and a few tears, when her father brought up his first trip to Greece and how he had met Phaedra. Thair’s stepmother visibly did not like hearing that story, but she listened quietly because it obviously meant a lot to Thair. And, anyway, Thair’s mom was gone now, absolutely no threat to this over-tanned, leathery blonde woman with big brown eyes who wore too much mascara but seemed to have a gentle heart.
The way Gordon had made it sound, he had been very much in love with Phaedra. Maybe he was, but he couldn’t keep his pants zipped up. Thair didn’t know what to think, but it really wasn’t important anymore. What was important was that she had a little family again. When her mother was alive, Thair had no desire to reach out to her father or her stepbrothers, but now she was enjoying their company and even planned to visit Florida next year and maybe go to the Bahamas with them. A family vacation; imagine that, Mama, she said in her head, as she tilted her chin upwards and toasted her mother.
One day in late January when Thair was returning from Costamar College, she stopped by the gym to pay her outstanding bill. She bumped into her yoga teacher; they talked for a while and she invited Thair to a class she was giving in her home the following week: a yoga and healing session. Thair went, and though it felt weird at times with all the chanting, it reintroduced her to something she loved, so for the last few months, she was practicing regularly again. She was also reading great books, spending weekends taking long walks along the coast, eating salads with lots of feta cheese, olive oil, and red cherry tomatoes.
That’s also when things started changing with Gabriel—or, more accurately, when the relationship changed for Thair. Gabriel hadn’t called for almost two weeks and Thair sensed the end had arrived. While sitting on the floor, legs open wide, the urn in front of her, she admitted out loud what she had been afraid to think.
“Hi, Mama.” Silence.
“Do you remember Gabriel? The Peruvian man I met in Greece last year?” Thair didn’t tell her mother about him when she was conscious those last few minutes, but daily conversations with the urn detailed many of her memories, her philosophies, her struggles.
“Mama, I have been thinking about him a lot lately. About my life.”
“Meow,” Pussaki responded. She rubbed the cat’s head while it sat next to her, looking at Thair with head tilted sideways, as if her furry friend were a psychiatrist listening to her crazy client.
“Mama, I think I blew it. I think I really … love … him, but I finally pushed him away.”
“Meow.”
“Mama, I am starting to feel happiness again. I don’t need Gabriel, but I want him. He feels right.”
But before she could reach out to Gabriel, he did something. It was almost Valentine’s Day, and he knew how Thair felt about this silly holiday, but when she got home Friday from work, a large box sat on her doorstep. She picked it up; it was light. When she moved it around, it made a slight thudding sound. Foreign stamps decorated the front, and PERU was written with a big black marker. She smiled and unlocked her door quickly.
Thair took the package into the living room, poured herself a glass of wine, and stared at the box. Then she cut it open and slowly began unwrapping what was inside. Before she reached the last layer of brown paper, she held the object on her lap, and with her eyes closed, touched it all around. It felt like a big ball. With eyes still wide shut, she peeled away the final layer and then opened her eyes. A white and black soccer ball. A small card was taped to the ball, Feliz día, Thair. It is not so complicated, Amor … de mi vida.
It was nothing more than a soccer ball, just white with black pentagons. Two colors, one ball—two rolled into one. She and Gabriel had many differences, various obstacles, and yet, he was unequivocally the person she most desired. And he was, essentially, sitting on her lap. Thair felt her brain-hand and heart-hand reach for one another. They held on to each other tightly.
The next few weeks were tumultuous. She dreamt of Zeus, of Chronos, of Art
emis. Some nights, she swam in the Mediterranean, other nights she drowned in the Pacific. She pictured herself and Gabriel tied together; sometimes it was their legs and they were in a silly three-legged race; other days she would dream about a white dress and a church and her mother seated on one of the pews. Some nights, she dreamt of the dreaded hospital bed and could hear her mother wailing. Those were nights when she would wake up in sweats, pulse beating wildly. Jolted awake, her head would be spinning, and then she would lie awake for hours and just think. There were still bad days. Bad nights. But there were a lot of good ones in between.
And today was a good one. As she sat in Pannikin Café and typed away on her computer, she realized the light was back. The pearl inside her soul was translucent—the dark grain of sand that is the inception of every pearl had been again covered by layers of light. As she touched her stomach, she visualized this pearl tucked under her skin, right behind her belly-button. The nucleus of her pearl, that nagging grain of sand, had been devoured, had disappeared, had dissipated entirely—even if not scientifically possible. But it had. It was gone; because even with science, there are miracles. She knew there was no more core heaviness. Undoubtedly, sadness is part of life and would return time to time, but Thair’s soul was finally shining, white, and light.
Thair thought about her mother, the bedtime story, and how that Greek god had persuaded her to search for her Other Half, and, yes, she had stumbled upon Gabriel, had leaned on him, but—ultimately—she had made it out of the tunnel alone. Like most people, there had been conditions in her life that had kept her from reaching her potential, and since no two roads are the same, she had to do exactly what she had done, and the way she had done it, to get to where she was. She was always whole; she just had to figure that out. Like Aristotle’s concept of entelecheia, she had blossomed and become who she was meant to be. And the possibilities were limitless.
So, this was the end of Thair’s story.
Or the beginning. It would be a happy ending, regardless.
The End
I look at my last line. It’s done. My yiayia’s, my mama’s, and now my story. I feel relieved, elated, free. And at peace.
I sit here for a few moments and just take in the sun’s rays. I finger the wooden heart keychain I had bought for my mother in Metsovo. I take my car keys off it, leave on my condo key, and place it on the far end of the table. “Know Thyself.” Socrates, Solon, and other great sages knew the secret so long ago. Finally, finally, these words inscribed on the Temple of Apollo at Delphi are now inscribed in my heart. I know myself. I know what I want. And I know how to move forward.
As I open another document and read the words, a huge grin spreads across my face. My letter of resignation, nice, I think, no resentment, just words of gratitude—inspired by the faces of hundreds of wonderful students, not endless hours on the freeway for minimal pay and little security. After sending my résumé, credentials, and several successful phone interviews, I landed the job, an overseas position at a prestigious private school. In Peru.
I am so excited that it’s hard to sit still these days. I will drop off the letter at the college, pick up Pussaki’s traveling papers from the vet, and then head to meet Rick. He said he’ll be by around 2:00 p.m., says he has a nice couple who are interested in renting my condo.
That night I dream of Meteora, the Acropolis, Machu Picchu, and a big bowl of red Greek tomatoes.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I want to thank Hugo de La Rocha Sarmiento. You are my beginning and my end.
I also want to thank two women who read draft after draft and were always honest, supportive, and enthusiastic. The first is Bettina Faltermeier, my dearest friend whose integrity, sensitivity, and sense of independence taught me that a person can, indeed, be happy alone. Thank you for holding my hand every step of the way with this novel. The second is Vanessa Gubbins whose insight and feedback always gave me something to think about and made this a stronger story.
To my first four readers, Jean King, Claudia Cevenini, Vicki Macris, and Daphne Mila, thank you for your passionate responses and reading my novel in less than a week, making me feel like it was indeed a project that I should see through until the end.
To my writer buddies whose emails, phone calls, and cheerleading skills were endless in my moments of angst, thank you, Jim Mastro and especially my writer soul sister, Alicia Bien.
To Mark Clements and especially John Barnier, my editors, your guidance was so appreciated. To Brooke Warner, my publisher, Samantha Strom, my editorial project manager, the Sisterhood, and everyone at She Writes Press and SparkPoint Studio, thank you for giving this story legs.
To my colleagues and students for the past twenty-seven years, ευχαριστώ, gracias, and thank you; you’ve all helped me grow into a more compassionate and better educator. Michelle Lee, thank you for your big-hearted friendship, and for good friend Michelle Coff Barnier and her mother, Georgine Coff, who both lost the fight to ovarian cancer, thank you for your inspiration and your courage.
To my own dear mother, Mama Angela, thank you for being unapologetically you. You are so smart, so fiercely independent, and my role model of what happiness and resilience look like. I am the μήλο, and you and Yiayia are my tree; I’m beyond blessed to have you two as my roots.
And, to my brother Ray, you are an indelible mark in my heart. I have so much love and respect for you. Thank you to my Peruvian and American families, especially to Tess and Drew who are examples of the new Wonder Women. And Achilles, Opa, and Oia who fill my days with slobber, snoring, stinky farts, and so much unconditional love. I never knew I could love four-legged creatures so much.
Thank you to my Greek family who have opened their arms up to me year after year, especially Lucy, my first best friend, and my yiayia and papou, whose summer house by the sea left me with my fondest childhood memories.
And thank you to Greece. My love affair with this country can best be described through Homer’s epic poem. Odysseus had Circe and Calypso, two beautiful enchantresses, but he still wanted to go “home” to his Ithaca and to his Penelope. Your home is not necessarily better than anyone else’s, but it’s yours. After twenty long years, he goes back; one day, πρώτα ο θεός, I will have the sweet soil of Greece on my feet again permanently.
Mostly, I’m grateful that Chance (or Fate?) led me to Hobson’s Choice, and I met my husband, so I don’t have to fight or journey without him by my side. Hugo, you are my home. Thank you for your endless love, laughter, support, and even though I don’t believe in a Príncipe Azul, I believe in you. You are my peace, and I love you with the whole of my being.
Questions and Topics for Discussion
1. The Prologue of The Greek Persuasion opens with an intriguing story from Plato’s Symposium about Zeus and the Other Half. This lays out one of the more important themes of the novel. How does this story of “other halves” and “soccer-ball people” affect the protagonist’s life? Did Phaedra do a disservice to Thair by telling her this bedtime story? Or is it a good idea not to settle and to seek a partner who is one’s perfect fit? Do you believe in the Other Half? A Soul Mate? Or should people—men and women—be whole and happy alone?
2. Take a moment to discuss the structure of the narrative. When Thair writes her “stories,” she uses a third-person perspective and past tense; otherwise, the novel is written in first-person present tense. Why do you think the author chose to use this structure? Did one of the “stories” capture your attention more than the others? Did you have a part of the novel that was your favorite? Which part and why?
3. What is the significance of the three sections: Change, Growth, and Peace?
4. The novel captures many attitudes about women and motherhood. In Dita’s story, we read, “She was a mere woman with no hopes for a future.” Do you think Dita had more choices at that time? Could she have done anything differently? “Mr. Wright had been so wrong,” Phaedra says, and she tells her daughter t
hat she couldn’t have gone back to Greece as a disgraced divorcée, so she chose to stay married for almost twenty years. Do you think these attitudes are still common today? What choices did Phaedra have growing up in Athens, and does her life seem better or worse in San Diego? Later, Thair states, “I think women try to do too much, and sometimes something has to give, and it’s usually the marriage.” Do you think some women can “do it all”—career, children, marriage—and be happy?
5. Take a moment to discuss Thair and Phaedra’s relationship. Is Phaedra a sympathetic character? Do you believe she was a good mother? Did her traditional attitudes remain until the end of the novel, or did she change? Was Thair a good daughter? Should Thair have done anything differently to please her mother?
6. Thair has various romantic relationships in the novel. Discuss her relationships with James, the sad-eyed woman on the beach, Ravi, and Jessica. Are any of these characters someone you could fall in love with?
7. Angela, Thair’s ex-student, gives her a phrase that changes her life: “No society dictating what’s right and what’s wrong.… You didn’t see color, race, religion. Or even gender.… If only others were more open, then they would see that there are a helluva lot of people out there to love.” Do you think this is true? Or do parents, society, religion, and traditions, in fact, dictate who we love?
8. Thair has a transformation in the novel and discusses her sexuality and LGBTQIA+ issues extensively. The novel takes place between 1999 and 2006. Do you think these stereotypes still exist? Do you think “bisexuality” is marginalized? Do you think there is such a thing as “heterosexual privilege”? What do you think about labels? Has the US and our world changed? She states that Rick and Frank can’t marry legally. What are the laws in your state? In your country? Do you think people in the LGBTQIA+ community should have the right to marry? Have or adopt children? Serve in the military? Hold the highest office? Be happy?
The Greek Persuasion Page 33
