One Summer in Santorini

by Sandy Barker

  ‘Having a fun day?’ asked Hannah from the seat next to mine. Was I imagining the pointedness of her question, or was she was just being friendly? I looked down the table to where the two couples were talking about Paris. Gary and Marie were going there on their next trip. They seemed pretty caught up in their discussion, so I figured it was a safe enough time to talk things through with Hannah.

  ‘Oh, for sure.’ Our drinks arrived, and our host arranged them around the table, remembering precisely who ordered what. ‘You?’

  ‘What’s not to love?’ she replied, as she fiddled with her straw and took a sip of her iced coffee.

  ‘Right? I mean the sun’s out, the views are epic.’ I looked out at the one we were enjoying. Then I lowered my voice. ‘Duncan’s history lessons are quite, uh …’

  She smiled back at me conspiratorially. ‘Creative? That the word you’re looking for?’

  I was winning her back. ‘Exactly. I can’t imagine how badly I would have been crucified on my tours had I spouted such creative histories.’ I looked over at Duncan, who was oblivious to our conversation. I was glad considering I was pretty much using him to get back in Hannah’s good graces. ‘How’s your scooter?’

  ‘It seems fine. I’m loving riding on these roads; you really get to lean into the curves, you know?’

  ‘Totally. Although truth be told, Josh is not the best rider.’ Great. Now I’m throwing Josh under the bus to score points.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah, I mean it’s mostly okay, but there have been a few times when I was worried that we’d slide off the road into the gravel.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, he’s not very experienced – this is his first time riding a scooter – so he sometimes takes the corners a little too sharply. More than once today I’ve thought that shorts were a bad option.’ She looked at me quizzically. ‘Because if I come off the scooter, I’m going to have serious gravel rash.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Sarah. I should have got a bigger scooter. I mean, I’m not like a really experienced rider or anything, but I’ve at least done it a few times before – in Mexico.’

  I needed to curb my embellishment of Josh’s riding, or Hannah was going to insist that she and Josh swap and she ride me around. ‘Oh, no. You don’t need to apologise. It’s all good – he’s getting better as the day goes on. It’s fine really. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it or anything.’ I’d gone from having a friendly chat to grovelling.

  ‘You know,’ said Hannah, interrupting my self-rebuke, ‘I’ve worked out who Josh reminds me of.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. He reminds me of my ex.’ Oh dear. ‘Maybe that’s why I haven’t really warmed to him.’ Yes, Hannah, that would explain it. I thought it best to get her mind away from Josh and onto something else.

  ‘So, what happened there? You haven’t really talked about it much,’ I inquired. She bit her lip. Oops. Retreat. Retreat. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’

  ‘No, it’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it. I guess the best way to explain it, is that he didn’t love me, and he was just using me for sex.’

  ‘Hannah, that’s awful!’

  ‘Yeah. He kept telling me he loved me and I would get all caught up in it, but it transpired that he didn’t. It never went anywhere. Actually, we never went anywhere. Literally.’

  ‘Like out?’ She nodded. ‘He never took you out?’ She shook her head. ‘Not even to the movies?’

  ‘Especially not to the movies. Not to dinner. Not anywhere.’ I was genuinely appalled. I also empathised. Her ex sounded a lot like mine.

  ‘What a prick,’ I replied, eloquently. Marie’s head popped up. I was talking too loudly. I lowered my voice. ‘Hannah, you know you didn’t deserve that, right?’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said weakly.

  ‘No, I mean it!’ I leaned closer. ‘You are a gorgeous, accomplished, smart woman. You deserve to be with someone who is proud of you and treats you well.’ In truth, I barely knew Hannah, and I was only making educated guesses about how wonderful she was, but I also knew that if I was on the other side of this conversation – and I had been too many times – I would want a pep talk.

  ‘Thanks, Sarah.’ She seemed to mean it. I’d done something right.

  ‘You know, even though he reminds you of your crappy ex, Josh is a good guy.’

  She stared out at the view. ‘He probably is.’ She paused, and I waited. ‘I guess, I’m feeling a little left out with all the couples on board.’

  ‘Hannah, we’re not a couple,’ I said, as convincingly as I could. She looked at me, but I couldn’t tell if she believed me or not.

  ‘Well, you seem really cosy. I just …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When you told me you and Josh weren’t together – you know on the first day – I was so glad we were roommates. I thought we’d be two single gals together in the Greek Islands – you know?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘But we haven’t really got to do that. You’re off with Josh a lot.’ She sipped her Nes. I liked Hannah, but it seemed she and I had different ideas about the trip. I was open to making friends but not to the exclusion of others. I didn’t think I was doing that with Josh. Maybe I was.

  Regardless, it was Hannah’s holiday too, and I didn’t want her feeling left out. ‘I’m glad you told me about feeling left out. I’m sorry about that. I’ll be more conscious of it, I promise.’

  She smiled and thanked me, and I got the feeling it mattered a lot to her that I’d said that. I wondered how Josh would take being told we were too cliquey. Speak of the devil, he chose that exact moment to come back to the table. I watched Hannah watch Josh. Was she comparing him to her ex again and, if she was, would she land on the side of Josh being a good guy?

  I hoped so. My roommate and the boy next door were the closest people to me in our little group, and I needed there to be peace. I was relieved when Josh asked Hannah about her drink, forcing her to engage with him rather than just glaring at him.

  When we’d all finished our drinks, Duncan gave us the not-so-subtle signal we were leaving by waving his arm around in the air and yelling, ‘We’re moving out!’ like we were a bikie gang or something. We settled the bill and filed out to the parking lot, thanking our host as we waved goodbye. I wondered when his next group would come or if he’d be on his own for the rest of the day. There wasn’t a lot of traffic where we were.

  Josh climbed onto our scooter and rocked it back off the kickstand. I climbed on behind him and happen to glance over at Hannah as she got onto hers. ‘You okay?’ she mouthed. I nodded as though I wasn’t really, but that I was being brave by riding with Josh. Poor Josh. I was going to have to find a way to assure her that Josh’s riding skills had vastly improved since the start of the day.

  ‘Next stop, the beach!’ shouted Duncan over the screeching buzz of our scooters.

  ‘Awesome!’ exclaimed Josh, steering the scooter away from the café. We’d talked about the beach over breakfast. Josh was excited because the only beaches he had ever been to in his life were on the shores of Lake Michigan. This would be his first time swimming in an actual sea. Yes, really. I was excited about the beach because I am Australian and therefore it is part of my biological makeup.

  We descended to the coast along winding roads, a little caravan of travellers. What a glorious day it was in the Greek Islands. Out of habit, I looked at my watch to check the time. Or rather I looked at where my watch would normally have been, but I hadn’t put it on that morning – deliberately.

  Even though this may not seem like a big deal, it was to me. At home, I lived by my watch. I am one of those people who is never late – well almost never. I plan my activities, my workouts, my chores, and my classes down to the minute. I’m a bit of a freak, actually – a totally organised freak.

  But as I was holding my watch, ready to put it on like I did every morning of my life, I took a moment to think through t
he previous days on the boat. I realised I had barely even looked at my watch the whole time – and when I did it was usually out of habit more than anything else.

  I’d eaten when I was hungry, and I’d slept when I was tired. For the first time since I could remember, I didn’t need to know what time it was. So, I left it off.

  Only days before, I had been a giant ball of stress, but with the warm air rushing past me, the sun on my upturned face, I recognised that sometime since I got on the boat, the tension had eased, then seeped away entirely. I was on holiday, and it felt amazing.

  We pulled up at the beach and parked in a small, but busy car park. It was not the most beautiful beach I’d ever seen. Australia does beaches pretty well and this beach, with its grey sand and murky water, would not rate highly back home. But as I’d just said to myself, I was on holiday. I was also somewhere new – a new place to experience, to soak in – and when I thought about it in those terms, the beach was fine.

  There were several buildings close by, including a rudimentary bathroom, where Gerry, Hannah and I went to change into our swimsuits. Marie declined to join us, and I would soon find out she’d made the smartest decision.

  Despite the heat of the sun beating down on us, despite the anticipation of cooling off in the murky Naxos water, it was way too cold. I’m talking shockingly, if-I-had-testicles-they-would-have-leapt-up-into-my-throat cold. I bravely waded in up to my crotch, then completely wussed out. No number of taunts from Josh or Hannah or any of the others was going to convince me that swimming in that water would be fun.

  I trudged awkwardly out of the small breakers and dried myself as best I could with my super-absorbent travel towel. Travel? Yes. It was compact – well, tiny. Super-absorbent? Not so much. Still, I made do and then went back into the crumbling bathroom to revert to my shorts and top. By the time I joined Marie on the beach, two little boys – obviously brothers – were playing with the others in the water while their mother watched from the shore.

  Josh was loving it. He was picking the kids up and tossing them up in the air so they could dive into the water. They resurfaced and asked for another go, time after time. ‘Pali, pali,’ they called out – or something like that. It must have been Greek for ‘again’. Eventually, their mother called to them from the beach, and they reluctantly swam back in. Marie and I looked at each other and smiled.

  ‘Cute kids, huh?’ I asked.

  ‘Adorable. Josh seemed like a natural with them,’ she replied.

  She was right. He did. I wondered how kids factored into his abstinence philosophy. Did he want them? If he did, how was he going to wangle that without getting involved with a woman? I wasn’t sure I wanted to get into a discussion about children with him, mostly because then I’d have to explain that I didn’t want them. It had proven to be a contentious topic on more than one occasion over the years. I wasn’t sure why, but almost every time the topic had come up in all manner of situations, I’d had to defend my position.

  ‘Do you want kids?’ Was Marie reading my mind?

  ‘No.’ I kept my tone light, but I didn’t offer any further explanation. She didn’t press, and remarkably she didn’t seem to be conveying any sort of judgement either.

  ‘We do – or rather, we did.’ I hadn’t expected that. I turned towards her to let her know I was listening. She watched Gary as he showed Josh how to body surf. ‘When we met, we talked of having one, maybe two, but we discovered quite early on that we can’t have them. It’s me.’ She offered no further explanation, and I didn’t ask. ‘We tried pretty much everything you can try – and I don’t mean to be crass, but it’s a good thing we earn decent money because that stuff is expensive. I can’t even imagine how hopeless some couples must feel without even the opportunity to try.’

  I looked back out to the water. I’d never heard a woman talk about infertility like this. Most of my friends had children, and a couple were pregnant. I had assumed the others either didn’t want them or weren’t ready to start trying. I considered my handful of childless friends. Had I been super callous not to discuss it with them, or even worse, to argue with them about why I didn’t want kids? What if I had friends who were suffering like Marie obviously was? I was suddenly hit with how self-centred I was.

  Mental note: be a better friend to my childless friends.

  Marie continued. ‘I felt quite useless for a long time, and all the while my beautiful husband was right there with me, telling me how much he loves me, no matter what.’ I looked at Gary out in the barely there surf, showing Josh the ropes of proper beach swimming, and I had a newfound appreciation for him. Marie sighed. I figured I should say something, but I wasn’t sure what the appropriate something was. Still, the silence hung heavy in the air.

  ‘Marie, I am so sorry to hear that. Thank you for telling me.’ I hoped it was adequate.

  ‘Well, I feel like we’re becoming friends, Sarah. It’s also good to talk about it. So, thank you for listening. And you know what? I think we may even have a happy ending to this whole thing.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, at the start of the year we signed up with an adoption agency, and because we’re happy to take an older child, not just a baby, they said we could have a placement as soon as December.’ She grinned.

  ‘Oh my god, Marie! That is incredible news.’ I pulled her into a sideways hug, and she tipped her head to touch mine.

  ‘Right? I mean, nothing is set in stone yet, but the thought of actually becoming parents sometime soon – it’s …’ She had tears in her eyes, and I tightened my grip on her shoulder. She smiled through the tears and left the rest of her thought unsaid.

  It felt so good to share her news, and even though I had only known her a few days, I agreed with her. She was becoming a good friend.

  Eventually, the seafarers dragged themselves onto dry land. Josh was smiling as he towelled himself off, and I tried to keep my eyes on his face and not his lean, muscular body. ‘How was that?’ I asked, looking up at him and shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.

  ‘Awesome!’ he replied. ‘Did you see us body surfing? Gary taught me – it’s so cool!’

  ‘Well, if you liked that, wait ’til you come out to California and we take you to a real beach! You’re gonna love body surfing in Santa Barbara!’ said Gary.

  ‘Is that a serious invitation?’ asked Josh.

  ‘Sure! It’s an open invitation to all of you. You get yourselves to Cali, and we’ll gladly put you up.’ I immediately started thinking about when I could go. I love California, and I always like to have travel plans in the pipeline, especially when I’m on a trip. Why not have the next one to look forward to? Wasn’t that the best way to avoid the post-travel blues?

  ‘I’m there!’ replied Josh. He looked euphoric.

  Maybe Josh and I could go to California together. Or maybe I had lost my frigging mind.

  As I gathered up my things, I saw Marie and Gary exchange a kiss and look at each other lovingly. I supposed it would be nice to have what they had, but I had done more damage to myself than good in search of it. I was better off staying clear of the whole love thing – and the whole lust thing. When I climbed back onto the scooter, I left my hands out of Josh’s pockets and instead held on to the handles on the sides of the scooter. I needed to keep my distance from the sexy American boy.

  Chapter Seven

  Only minutes after we left the beach and ascended again into the hills of Naxos, the heavens opened. It didn’t take long for the plummeting rain to seep into every nook and cranny of my clothes, especially the crannies. I couldn’t have been wetter if I’d stood under a shower fully dressed. It was a good thing I wasn’t wearing my watch that day, because it would have been ruined.

  Duncan didn’t stop riding, though, so we kept following. I hoped for a bus shelter or something to appear ahead of us on the side of the road, but there was nothing. Miles and miles of road, but no shelter. Despite my vow to stop flirting with the cute American, my h
ands were planted firmly in his pockets to stay warm. The rain was not only hard and fast, in complete contrast to the hot sun we’d enjoyed up until then, it was also freezing. I could feel my lips turning blue.

  After a million years, Duncan pulled his scooter over to the side of the road and parked up. We all did the same. ‘This is the town where we’ll eat lunch,’ he called out over the driving rain. But there was no town. There was just road and at the side of the road, seven very wet people. He must have seen the confusion on our faces, because he pointed behind him. ‘It’s down there!’

  We walked away from the edge of the road and looked down into a steep valley. Sure enough, there was a town down there, clinging to the side of the hill, all quaint and whitewashed and boxy, just like in the Greek postcards. Duncan signalled for us to follow him as he descended a set of stairs. We followed single file, water gushing around our feet as it flowed from the top of the hill down the town’s walkways and stairs. The rain relentlessly pounded us from above as we navigated steep steps and a reasonably sized flood.

  And then I started laughing, at first a giggle and then a belly laugh. I couldn’t remember ever being wetter while fully clothed, and the whole situation was ridiculous. The laugh caught on, and the others joined in – even Duncan. So, there we were, seven laughing maniacs tromping into a flooded Greek village to have lunch – as you do! At the bottom of the valley, the town levelled out, and we entered a small courtyard. Its white walls were covered in thick ropey vines of bougainvillaea and hundreds of colourful flowers reached out to us in bright clumps. It was pretty, but I was so wet and cold, I could hardly care.

  A woman appeared in a doorway, a smiling woman who looked like someone’s grandma – or YaYa as they say in Greece. She signalled vigorously for us to come in and we happily obeyed. Right inside the doorway, we gathered close to each other, dripping water onto the tiled floor of her little café. There were four tables, two long and two small, and at one of the small tables sat a man in a pair of trousers and a singlet, smoking. He read the paper and grunted at its content, ignoring the bedraggled septet in the doorway.