by kc dyer
“Have you promised them proof that your long-shot theories are true?”
“Yes,” he says vehemently. “And now it seems I was right. Raj would not make this trip for nothing.”
“But you didn’t know he’d found the urn or whatever it is until today. These letters go back weeks.”
“Details.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I knew I was onto something all along. I believed it was true, and now I’m going to have the proof. This book is going to shake academia to its foundations. Look!” He taps the screen of his phone. “Even your fiancé’s publishing company is in the mix.”
“Ex-fiancé,” I counter gloomily.
He scrolls a bit more and then shows me another letter. “Take a look at them apples!”
I read through the letter with the Hearst Books logo and then look back at him. “When did this come through, Pops?”
“It just came in. But I don’t have to go with Hearst Books if you’d rather I didn’t, koritsi. The point is, there is definite interest in my theory. It’s creating a storm in the publishing world! This makes our whole trip worthwhile, my girl. Can you see that?”
I don’t know what I see, and that’s the problem. I mean—I understand too little about publishing to know if a financial executive has any influence on the choice of books they print. Is it far-fetched to think that Anthony is somehow finding another way to make me beholden to him again? Regardless, there is no way I want to say anything about this to my dad. I have never seen him look so joyful and excited. After all we have been through, I am not the one who is going to bring him down.
* * *
—
That evening, the Celere pulls in to the harbor at Gallipoli. It is an astonishing sight, as one section of the city stretches along an isthmus into the sea. It is also, I soon discover, in no way related to the more famous Gallipoli, site of horrendous losses for the Allies in the first world war. That spot is located far to the east, past even mainland Greece, along the shore of Turkey.
Tomorrow, we are slated to arrive in Santa Maria di Leuca, and this pushes even his impending publication to the back of my dad’s mind. I get a text from Talia just as the boat is pulling in to its berth for the evening, telling me that she and Pene are expecting us the following afternoon.
When I read this to my dad, his face reddens so much I make him sit down.
“What if she won’t see me?” he whispers, mopping his suddenly sweaty brow. “What if she still hates me?”
“She’s invited us, Pops.” I sit down beside him. “She knows we’re coming. Talia says she’s looking forward to seeing you again. It’s all going to be okay.”
But I can tell he is hardly hearing me. Between Raj’s find and his impending meeting with Pene, he is too excited to go ashore for dinner. I’m not about to miss my dinner, so I go without him. This is an excellent decision, as I bring back what ends up probably being the best takeout I’ve had on this entire journey. We sit on the deck as the swallows dive above us through the twilight and nibble on paper-thin slices of sopressa served with creamy polenta. This Italian salami is flawlessly complemented with local olives and fresh, chewy bread dipped into a perfectly spiced hummus. After dinner, as the stars come out, we drink sweet red wine, and my dad gently clinks his glass against my own.
“You know,” he says, “of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life, the biggest was leaving Pene.”
“Are you sure, Pops? I mean—there’s been some decently big mistakes in there. And I’m pretty sure I’m one of them.”
I can see his teeth gleam in the dark. “If you are, then you are the best mistake I ever made.”
He’s quiet a minute, then drains his glass. “When we’re done here, koritsi, I want you to know—whether this damn book gets picked up or not, I’m coming back here. I want to return to Ithaca, not just to visit but for good this time. And I’m going to make things right with Pene and Talia.”
He gets to his feet, a little unsteady with the wine, and pats my shoulder. “An early night, I think. I want to be rested when we arrive. I want her to see the best of me.”
We both chuckle a little at this, but I don’t follow him downstairs.
Instead, I say a little prayer of gratitude to Teresa Cipher and her crew at ExLibris for booking us onto this Wi-Fi enabled vessel. And then, as the boat glides out silently into the still waters of the Mediterranean, I file my second-to-last article and take myself to bed.
* * *
—
The ship is already docked in Santa Maria di Leuca when I awaken, so I get myself washed and dressed, and then head up to the deck to have breakfast. Surprisingly, my dad’s not there, so I sit down and begin without him. The coffee, as with every cup I’ve tasted in Italy, is absolutely perfect—hot and rich and without a trace of bitterness. I’ve just guiltily ordered a fresh pot so my dad will be able to have some, when the first mate comes racing up the steps from below, his face ashen.
When I follow him downstairs to the berth, my dad looks like he is sound asleep. One of his hands rests on the printout of the manuscript that he threatened to make me read. And in the other hand, he holds the picture Talia gave him. Sixteen-year-old ne’er-do-well Ari Kostas, with his arm around the shoulders of his first—and only—true love.
chapter forty-two
MONDAY
Can’t imagine a single dish I want to write about
Gia Kostas, missing my dad already
The sky has clouded over in the last few minutes—nothing serious, no real rain-bearing clouds, but a sort of gentle, grey mist is in the air. The first mate left almost immediately after we found my dad to make contact with—someone. He told me who, but I just can’t remember at the moment.
I’m sitting on the deck, feeling numb and blank and empty. There are so many people I should contact—Talia and her mom are expecting us today, and I’m fairly certain Raj said he was coming to meet us. And what about Teresa and her team at ExLibris? There must be a million other things, but I don’t have a clue where to even begin.
In the end, I dial Anthony. It’s the middle of the night in New York, and he’s not even been back there for long, but I feel like he should know my dad is gone. I scroll through my phone to find the number for his landline at home since I know he generally leaves his cell phone downstairs at night. The phone rings five times before it’s picked up.
“Hello?” says a breathy voice that in no way belongs to Anthony.
My own voice dies in my throat.
“Hello?” the woman says again. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear water running and then Anthony calling out.
“Was that the phone, Mel? Just leave it, okay?”
The woman giggles. “I hear a landline ring, Tony, and I can’t help myself. I mean, I do it all day at work, right? It’s just a habit.”
Anthony’s voice, closer now, repeats, “Melanie, don’t pick up the phone.”
“Hello?” she says again. “Hello?” And then, after a pause, “See what I mean, babes? It doesn’t matter. There’s no one even there.”
As I touch the screen to end the call, all I can think is Tony? Really? No one—including me—has ever been allowed to call him Tony. I slump back onto my deck chair and stare blankly at the phone screen when it suddenly rings in my hand.
“Gia! You made it! You are NOT going to believe this. I can’t wait to show you.”
“Raj,” I say quietly, but I’m not sure he even hears.
“It’s definitely a tablet, a huge fragment, the biggest I’ve ever seen. The text is clear as a bell, and I’m almost positive it’s third century. Which, if it’s true, is incredible, because the Homeric scribes didn’t even start writing until the eighth century. And listen! Late last night, we also unearthed a ewer, and—I can’t even believe it—an urn. Your dad was right, dammit!”
“Raj,” I try again, bu
t he’s talking so fast now I can’t even follow him and he’s so breathless I think he must be running. “I need to tell you . . .”
His voice is still on the line, but suddenly, he appears, flying into the far end of the marina. He waves his phone madly at me as he dashes up the dock, lugging a heavy canvas bag under one arm. He bypasses the small gangplank of the Celere completely and vaults over the side of the boat. Pausing only to drop the bag into my chair, he wraps me in a huge hug, swings me around—and kisses me.
There is a sudden taste of salt and sea air and toothpaste, and then it’s over.
The events of this morning have left me so shocked, I can’t do anything but stare up at him. In the moment of awkward silence that follows, his face flushes a deep red.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “That was only a—a friend kiss, I promise you. In—ah—celebration.”
His hands are still on my shoulders, and he gives me a gentle squeeze. “I’m just so excited for your dad.”
His eyes search my face—I think maybe looking to see if I’m offended?—and he finally, slowly releases me and steps back.
“Was it a terrible crossing?” he asks slowly. “You look so tired . . .”
I open my mouth to reply and instead just burst into tears.
“Gia—Gia, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I know I overstepped, but it was just in the heat of . . .”
“It’s not the kiss, you idiot.” I manage to pull it together for a minute. “It’s my dad.”
And, to give him credit, he stops talking then. By this time, I’m crying so hard I’ve lost the ability to speak myself, so he takes my hand and leads me over to one of the benches that line this open part of the boat. We sit together, not quite touching, and soon enough, I find I can talk again.
He only gets up long enough to pass me the napkin I was using at breakfast, and I clutch at it gratefully.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, at last, when my sobs finally quiet to that shuddering state where even breathing doesn’t come easily.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I need, Raj. I don’t even know where to start. How am I going to get him home?”
“I don’t know either,” he says, looking worried. “But we can find out. This must have happened before—they must have systems in place. Have you talked to the captain yet?”
I’m just shaking my head, when the first mate climbs back aboard, followed by several people who immediately disappear down below.
“Is doctor,” the first mate says quietly. “And harbormaster, to talk to the captain. After they see to your papa, they come up and give you more information, okay?”
“Okay.”
The first mate is joined by the captain, who offers me his condolences before they both follow the others down to my dad’s cabin.
After they leave, Raj points to my phone. “Do you need to reach out to your family in America? What about calling Anthony?”
This sends a surge of emotion through me that I can’t quite identify before I realize it is anger. I wipe my eyes hard and shake my head.
“Anthony and I are history. I need to handle this on my own.”
Something changes in his face, and he’s quiet again. After a long moment, he asks, “Okay. What do you want?”
I stand up and walk over to the rail, looking out across the water. “I want what my dad wanted. To make things right with Pene and Talia, and to go back to Ithaca. But now—now he’ll never have the chance.”
My eyes fill up again, but I fight the tears back. Anger surges in my chest; fury at all the stupid, selfish choices I have made.
“I can’t believe we didn’t talk about this—I’m such an idiot. I should have made him talk this through with me. But instead, I was too busy dealing with NOSH and with Anthony and with everything else except the possibility that my dad could die.”
Raj walks over to stand beside me. “We’re mortal,” he says quietly. “We all know that, right from the moment each baby is born. But if we think about dying all the time, nothing would ever get done. So getting caught up in the regular adventures of daily life just means we’re human.”
He laughs a little, then. “And this latest adventure? It’s been enough to take anyone’s mind off all our human realities.”
“That’s true.” I think back to all that’s happened over the last—can it only have been a couple of weeks?—and then I laugh too. Just a little.
But somehow, it feels better than being mad at myself.
“What do you want?” Raj asks again.
I take a big, shaky breath. “Well, he did say he wanted to go to Ithaca. I know that for sure.”
He smiles. “Then it’s settled,” he says. “We’re going to finish this journey for him.”
And that is what we do.
* * *
—
By the time Talia arrives, we have everything settled on the boat. It turns out that transporting someone who has died to a different country, even a different EU country, is a lot more complicated than if the person dies at sea. Our plan all along had been a brief stop here in Santa Maria di Leuca, en route to Ithaca, so the captain agrees to keep to this itinerary. Talia’s brought her car, however, so we take an hour to go meet up with her mother.
Penelope Natale is, of course, Ari’s age but, like her daughter, looks much younger. Far from awkward, we end up sharing a lot of laughs over lunch, admittedly mostly at my dad’s expense. Pene admits to always secretly holding a torch for Ari and to following his career from afar. But seeing how his marriages failed reinforced all the terrible things her parents had said about him, and over the years, she became convinced that her decision to never contact him had been the right one.
“When Talia call me the day you met, I sure he was—you know—no good,” she tells me. “It took Talia hours to make me believe he truly honest.”
“Hours,” echoes Talia, widening her eyes dramatically.
I reach across and touch one of the old lady’s hands. “He made so many mistakes, it’s true. But he loved you.”
I clasp both her hands in mine. “And he wanted more than anything to tell you so.”
* * *
—
After spending the afternoon sorting out funeral plans with Talia and Pene, Raj and I board the boat just as dusk is falling. The sun sinks into the water as we pull out onto the Mediterranean for the last leg of our journey.
Raj, who has stayed beside me all day, mostly not saying a word, leans on to the railing. The wind is just enough to ruffle our hair, and I think of my hat, floating off somewhere out on this vast sea, and for some reason, it makes me laugh.
Which then, I have to explain so as not to sound like a crazy person.
Luckily, Raj laughs too. “Maybe it will have its own adventures,” he says. “The odyssey of Gianna’s hat—volume two.”
“Why volume two?”
He grins. “Think of all the adventures you had together. Those were certainly enough to fill out volume one.”
The slimmest white trace of a fingernail moon appears just above the horizon in front of us, barely visible in the twilight. I take a deep breath.
“I need to thank you.”
“No, you don’t,” he says. “This is just . . .”
But before he can finish, I reach up and kiss him.
He kisses me back. And we kiss underneath that tiny little trace of a moon for a long, long time.
I take another deep breath when we finally break apart. “That was not a friend kiss,” I clarify, and his smile gleams down at me through the gathering dusk.
“I was going to say that this is just what good friends do,” he says, reaching for me again. “However, I am perfectly willing to take it back.”
But after a much shorter time, he breaks off the kiss and actually physically steps away from me.<
br />
“Maybe we should stop,” he mutters. “This is just too much, all at once. Losing your dad right at the end of the journey like this. What if you go home after all of this and make things up with Anthony?”
The very thought makes my stomach clench, but for the first time today, Raj looks truly worried.
I reach out my hand and shiver a little. “You asked me earlier what I want,” I say, staring up at him fiercely. “Did you mean it? Does it really matter?”
He takes my outstretched hand in both of his warmer ones. “Of course it does. You can always talk to me,” he begins, but I cut him off again. Talking is not what I have in mind.
Kissing him, I slide my cold hands up under his shirt, making him jump, just a little, before he folds me into his arms.
There are times, you know—even for a writer—when actions speak louder than words.
chapter forty-three
TUESDAY
Ithaki Rovani
Gia Kostas, special correspondent to NOSH, in Ithaca, Greece
Possibly the sweetest offering of this epic journey, we present this concoction of honey, oil, and rice that combines together to make an appropriate end to any meal, let alone this series. The secret, as always, is in the spices . . .
And so, three weeks after I left New York City to chase him down, I begin the process of burying my father on the other side of the world. It takes me a day and a half to sort out the funeral. I have never organized a funeral before, and I think maybe it shows. I mean, it’s complicated. My dad is technically Greek Orthodox, but he hasn’t been inside a church in my lifetime. I wouldn’t call him an atheist, but monotheism has never been his thing either. I try to explain this to the priest who Pene has found to take the service, but even with Talia’s excellent translating skills, I’m not exactly sure how it’s going to come together. I suspect Zeus isn’t going to get a mention.
