by Lena Manta
“Do you see any other woman here? So leave! And don’t worry. I know how to defend my house too.”
She hesitated for a while, but she saw she had to obey. She shot him a furious look and stalked off.
Simeon first turned to his son. “Are you all right, Vassilis?”
“Yes, Papa. I’m fine,” Vassilis replied. Then he turned and looked at his friend’s father. “Mr. Ververis, I want you to know that I loved your daughter and I still love her. And you, Nestor, I want you to understand. I’m not dishonest—I thought we could be happy.”
“Do you see now that that could never be?” Fotis asked him calmly.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I love her any less. Nestor, I didn’t want to betray your household. I wanted to marry your sister. Was that bad?”
“It was bad that you didn’t tell me like an honorable person,” Nestor said.
“And how would that have changed things?” Vassilis turned to his father. “I know that deep down, you wanted to let me marry her. Isn’t that right? You understand me better than anyone else.”
“Even if it were true, your mother would never have agreed. Nor would your grandparents. And I think you can imagine what sort of war would have broken out if I had consented to this match.”
“I know. That’s why I’m obeying, just as you did.”
He hung his head and quietly left the room. Behind him, Simeon gave Fotis an apologetic look. But Fotis’s own face was full of reproach.
“For the second time, this family has hurt my family and my wife with its cowardice,” he said to Simeon grimly. “So, son against father. If you really think about it, I must thank you. My daughter would have had a terrible life in your household.”
He took his son and they went, leaving the other man alone. Tears streamed from Simeon’s eyes. He had damaged two lives with his cowardice. If, even now, he had shown some strength, he would have helped his son to win where he himself had failed. He looked toward Vassilis’s room. An unholy satisfaction overwhelmed him, together with all his other feelings. He wasn’t the only coward who had sacrificed his love. Now his son had too. At least he wasn’t alone.
Smaragda looked at her mother with eyes full of tears. The old lady was holding herself together with difficulty.
“And when, by God’s grace, do you leave?” Kleoniki asked.
“The boat leaves in two weeks,” Smaragda replied.
“Have you packed all your things?”
“Nearly. Ah, Mama, I think I’m being cut in two!”
“Stop that, silly girl!” Kleoniki scolded her. “What are you saying now? You’re going to your home.”
“My home is Constantinople, Mama, and you know it! I was born here, I grew up here, and you and my sister are here. In Greece, I’ll be alone.”
“You’ll have your husband and children. What do you mean, ‘alone’?”
“I won’t have you! But there’s no other way. We have no choice.”
Their worst fears had come true. Roza Kouyoumdzis made it her life’s purpose to destroy their reputation. She vilified the Ververis family, making up ridiculous stories that she told other women. The rumors, like flies on rotten meat, laid their dirty eggs, and the rot spread everywhere. Twice, Nestor heard fellow medical students carelessly slander his sister. At parties and ladies’ afternoon gatherings, it was a favorite topic of conversation: the doctor’s crazy daughter who’d pursued young Kouyoumdzis, driving the family to distraction—especially the young man, who didn’t want her.
Chrysafenia had locked herself in her room and given up school, where conversations stopped as soon as she appeared. Sly laughter and curious looks had become her daily martyrdom. She was engulfed by a wave of hatred for Vassilis’s family, as well as for the young man himself, who failed to put a stop to his mother’s disgusting gossip. And then there was his subsequent behavior. He sent her another letter, which she read scornfully, not letting the insidious pain beneath her heart rise and soften it. Her anger, however, didn’t reach the point of making her tear it up and throw it away as she had done with the previous one when he had announced the end of their relationship. She put it with the others, and in the same box she also kept his gold locket.
Fotis had surprised the whole family when he announced it that cold evening in March. They were moving to Greece.
“What are you saying, husband?” said Smaragda. “They still have a war going on there. Brother slaughtering brother!”
“Do you think I don’t know about the civil war, woman? But it’s in the mountains. It has nothing to do with Athens, where we’ll be living. Besides, we can’t stay here. That witch has left us with no choice.”
“But how will we just uproot ourselves?”
“Wife, do you know that every day Nestor and I have to hold our tongues so we don’t have fights because of Mrs. Kouyoumdzis’s monstrous lies! What do you want? Should we get arrested every day?”
“And Nestor’s studies?”
“I’ll arrange everything.”
Smaragda looked at her daughter, who had lowered her head, while tears flowed again from her eyes. She had lost a lot of weight, and every day she tried more and more to stop the tears, but she couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered. “I didn’t want this. Now, because of me, we’re going to lose our home.”
“It’s no use looking back, my daughter,” her father answered calmly. “It seems as if what happened was our fate. Don’t be bitter—I’ll take care of everything.”
And Fotis did as he said. He left nothing to chance, and he told no one how he managed it. For months, he solved problems. He ran to friends and acquaintances, asking favors or for them to return his. He had a good friend at the Greek embassy, Mr. Raizis, who performed miracles, helping Fotis organize his finances and send all his money to Greece. The rumors had reached Mr. Raizis’s ears, but he had known Fotis since their school days, and he didn’t believe a word of it. Mr. Raizis had no children, but he understood his friend’s desire to protect his, and was determined to help. He even managed to find them a house.
“And where is this house?” Smaragda wanted to find out.
“Why? If I told you the neighborhood, would it mean anything to you?” Fotis asked.
“Husband! Just like that, we’re supposed to go live in a house we don’t even know anything about?”
“Alekos Raizis told me it’s in the center of Athens. Kolonaki is the name of the area. It’s an apartment.”
“An apartment?” Smaragda asked, startled.
“There isn’t any other way, sweetheart. Our daughter is a full-grown woman. The time will soon come for us to find her a husband. With all the filth that cursed woman has smeared on her, how will that happen here? And our son? He’ll be a doctor soon. What sort of respect will people here show him? There are only a few of us Greeks left in Constantinople now, Smaragda, and most of them have swallowed this woman’s poison, and they look at us with suspicious eyes.”
Smaragda had realized he was right—there was no way out. She felt herself choking with anger at the thought that leaving would make them look guilty. Nor did she want to think how much more people would talk when they left; Roza would say she’d been proven right.
Kleoniki got up now and embraced her child. Her heart felt like it might break. A voice inside her said that she would never see her child again. But she understood her son-in-law. He had a duty to his family, and she too was aware that the situation in Constantinople had become intolerable for them.
“And you, Mother?” Smaragda asked through her tears.
“Us? Is this a time to worry about us? We’re fine! And Dorothea will still be nearby. You must stand by your husband and children! A woman’s place is where she makes her home. And you’ll make it from scratch, and I’ll be more at peace. Forget this city! What good have the Turks done us? We’ve lived in fear, and we’ll go on living in fear. But in Athens, you won’t have anything to be afraid of, and your children will
be better off.”
Smaragda hugged her tightly, crying mournfully. She would see her again, she was sure of it. Crossing the border wasn’t easy, but she had to hope. She looked at her mother, trying to smile.
“Mama, when we have things in order, you’ll come with Papa to see us and stay as long as you like. Tell me you’ll come!”
“Bah! Of course I’ll come!” Kleoniki promised, making her voice cheerful. “A chance to see Greece! I’ve heard about it for as long as I can remember, and now I’ll have a child there. So, you go and I’ll follow, my girl. Don’t cry anymore. It’s not the end, my dear, but a new beginning! You’ll see.”
Except that, when they boarded the boat, when the whistle blew and Smaragda watched Hagia Sophia grow smaller, she didn’t see any new beginning. She saw only a blackness erasing her whole life up till that point. At that moment, they all appeared like disembodied figures—her parents and Dorothea, who wouldn’t let her out of her arms when she heard the news. Even Makrina’s smile and songs came clearly to her. Then she saw her friend Evanthia, even her teacher Olympia, who had praised her for her excellent handwriting, and finally him: Simeon, as she had known him, holding her in his arms and telling her he loved her. And when they disappeared, she saw herself as a bride, crossing the threshold of the house she was leaving forever and where she had spent most of her life. Where she had thought she would die one day.
She remained on deck thinking about all she loved and could not take with her. Fotis and the children stood beside her, all of them hugging and crying as they said good-bye to their city. Because Constantinople was their city.
CHAPTER 10
Kypseli, 2016
When Melpo’s story ended, a lump was stuck in my throat, and I teared up. I gave a dry cough and rubbed my eyes. Melpo looked at me tenderly.
“I can see your grandmother’s story has affected you,” she observed quietly.
“Yes. The women of this family have had terrible luck.”
“Why do you say that? Your great-grandmother Smaragda lived happily with Fotis Ververis.”
“Yes, but—”
“And who told you, Fenia, that we are owed happiness in this life? It’s not a birthright, my sweet, it’s an achievement. And like a mathematical equation, it has many, many variables.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that.”
“If Smaragda had chosen, let’s say, to cry and suffer for her lost love instead of getting on with her life with Fotis, she would have remained unhappy. She dared to take a step, and she had the ability to recognize and appreciate her husband’s love and the life he was offering her. So the equation was solved.”
I looked at her and smiled, and she squeezed my hand before she went on.
“Many things will happen to us in our lives. Some of them are terribly painful. But remember that life, rightly or wrongly, is for the strong. For those who manage to overcome hurdles, to survive, and finally to win. And despite the fact that you keep your mouth hermetically sealed about your past, I’m sure that sitting opposite me, right at this moment, is a winner!”
Right on cue, Karim entered the small office. The whole time Melpo and I were talking, he’d only appeared once, slipping in for a moment with chilled juice and a few biscuits. Now, however, he was standing and looking at us with Tiger licking himself at his feet. The cat had certainly tasted our meal already.
“Madam,” said Karim. “Food ready.”
“Yes, Karim. We’re coming,” I told him and stood up.
A glance at my watch made my eyes open wide.
“Good Lord, it’s past five o’clock! Weren’t you hungry, Melpo? I’m a terrible hostess!”
We followed Karim while Tiger, as usual, tangled himself in our legs.
We sat in the large kitchen, which smelled wonderfully of cinnamon and allspice. Fresh green salad awaited us, along with a superbly cooked chicken, and beside it a pilaf with almonds and pine nuts. It was my favorite, and I thanked Karim with a broad smile. As always, the whole time I was eating, he counted the bites. I practically had to unbutton my pants to take the last mouthful. As I told Melpo, my Syrian friend’s cooking was responsible for the five or six pounds I had put on.
“They’ll do you good,” she answered. “If I can judge anything, it’s when a person needs coddling, and you, my lady, are shouting for it. So let someone take care of you!”
We finished off our meal with a cup of my beloved fragrant coffee, and I was ready for the rest of the story when I heard the doorbell ring. Melpo and I looked at each other in surprise. I signaled for her to stay where she was and went to open the door.
Charming Aunt Hecuba . . . She launched herself into the living room like a typhoon, leaving pleasantries aside. She looked around her again and then condescended to glance at me, as I waited with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Are you alone?” she asked abruptly.
“Why? Did I have company the last time you came?” I responded.
I saw her tighten her lips. She sat herself down comfortably on the couch, but I didn’t follow suit. She wasn’t my guest, and I had no obligation to behave in a civilized way with her.
“I’m listening,” I said drily. “Coming here in the boiling heat at such an hour, you must want something!”
“I came to make you a proposition.”
“Let me hear it.”
“Won’t you sit down?”
“I hear better standing up. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“As I told you, this house is mine!”
“No, as the lawyer told you, this house is mine,” I corrected her.
“You know what I mean. I grew up in this house; it was my mother and father’s.”
“Precisely! It was my grandmother and grandfather’s,” I repeated.
“Are you going to listen to me?” she asked irritably.
“I am listening to you, but tell things as they are, not how you would like them to be!”
“You pretend you don’t understand? I grew up in this house. It’s meaningless to you. You had no idea who you were.”
“And what does that have to do with it?”
“I don’t want my father’s fortune in your hands.”
“He, however, had a different opinion and left it to me. Why do you have such a hard time respecting his decision?”
Her eyes half closed as her gaze passed over me. The smile on her lips was unpleasant.
“I can see you’re clever, but you won’t get around me with your cleverness!”
“I don’t need to. The subject is not up for discussion.”
“Yes, it is. I want the house!”
“Do you realize that the present conversation, apart from being ridiculous, is going nowhere? The house belongs to me, and that’s not going to change!”
“Wrong! It can change. Name your price, and I’ll buy it!”
I stared at her, stunned. “Have you sunk so low?” I asked her in horror. “Why? What does this house have? A treasure?”
“Don’t talk nonsense! My reasons are emotional.”
“And you, who are overflowing with emotion . . . ,” I remarked sarcastically.
She stood up and took a threatening step toward me, but I saw her freeze as she looked to the door behind me. I turned in shock, and there was Melpo in the entrance to the living room, her arms crossed and an ironic smile on her lips.
“You?” Hecuba shrieked. “What are you doing here?”
Melpo approached us.
“Didn’t you yourself tell me Smaragda’s daughter was here? I came to see her. And I ended up witnessing a silly scene. Are you in your right mind, Hecuba? Have you come to tell your sister’s daughter to give up her house and her inheritance?”
“Don’t you get mixed up in this! She’s a stranger. An intruder!”
“For you! For me, it’s a pleasure to meet the daughter of my dear cousin. But what the devil is wrong with you? Not just now, but all along? You were always jealous of your sister, b
ut it turned into a sickness.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“Neither do you. So many years have passed, Hecuba! Your sister paid dearly for her mistakes, and so did your father. He died all alone here. And after writing him off for whatever reason, you come back now wanting a share of an inheritance that doesn’t belong to you. Uncle gave you a good dowry when you married.”
“They forced me to marry!”
“And Papadakis was unlucky enough to get stuck with you!”
“Don’t bring my husband into this!”
“And don’t you interfere with Smaragda’s child!” Melpo retorted, raising her own voice now.
I finally recovered from my surprise at Hecuba’s proposition, but also the new information about my mother and her sister. I had to take a stand before the women came to blows. I didn’t really want to, but I saw them both bracing to do battle.
“Just a moment, ladies!” I said loudly. “I’m here too. And I have the last word. So, my dear aunt Hecuba, I’m sorry—no, I’m not sorry to disappoint you! The house is not for sale. Not now, not ever! However much money you offer me. I’m not trying to bargain either. I will remain in my grandfather’s house, so get that through your head. I don’t know much about the family I just acquired, but I intend to find out. And the only way you’ll cross this threshold again is if you can come to terms with the past and whatever hang-ups you have about it. And you’ll only come here as what you are: my aunt! Have I made myself clear?”
To underline my words, I pointed to the door. I saw her undecided for a moment, but when she looked in my eyes, she saw that the battle was lost. She turned like a young soldier, and a few moments later, I heard the front door close with a bang.
Like a balloon gone flat, I let the air out of my lungs with relief and turned to Melpo.
“My Lord, what was all that? She’s not a woman, she’s a witch!”
“You said it!” she agreed.
“What happened with her and my mother?” I wanted to know.
“Nothing that I know of, but for as long as I can remember she was deathly jealous of Smaragda. I remember Grandmother Chrysafenia—we always called her Chrysi like Grandfather wanted—would never leave the two of them alone together when they were small. When your mother was born, Hecuba was four years old. And from what my mother told me later, the polite little girl was transformed into a wild beast. I was the youngest in the family, but I remember a lot of instances from our childhood. When your mother went into the first grade and they bought her a bookbag, Hecuba cut it into pieces. Of course she got into terrible trouble with Aunty, but she didn’t care. Whatever Smaragda had, Hecuba wanted. She never left her in peace.”
