One Summer in Santorini

by Sandy Barker

  He was right.

  The water was aquamarine; although, it was a little chillier than I would have liked. Still, it was a quiet little cove and we had it to ourselves. We’d brought the makings of a picnic lunch, the same lunch menu we’d had each day we sailed: tzatziki, bread, tomatoes (I was going to turn into a tomato with how many I’d eaten), and the king and queen of each meal: feta and olives.

  Simple and delicious food.

  Duncan had somehow perched a small cooler on the back of his and Gerry’s scooter, so we even had beer. For several hours we lounged, swam, ate, talked and picked up pebbles from the mostly sandy beach. It was pretty much like any other family outing to the shore.

  After lunch, I waded into the chilly water up to my knees and let it gently lap around me. I heard someone wade in after me and I wasn’t surprised when I turned around and saw it was Josh.

  ‘Nice bathing suit,’ he said, obviously eyeing me up and down.

  ‘Thank you. You have seen me in a bikini before, you know.’ We’d done nothing more than kiss – we’d never even had a proper date – and yet, here he was seeing me in my bathers. Parts of our relationship were progressing faster than others. I typically held off on the whole ‘see me in a bikini’ thing until well after the sex part had started and the guy was already used to, or even madly in love with, my body – lumps, bumps and all.

  I sucked in my stomach, subtly I hoped. I didn’t want him thinking I was vain – just that my midsection looked phenomenal. He must have read my mind about the proper date thing, because the next thing he said was, ‘So, I was thinking, maybe tonight you and I could go for dinner somewhere – the two of us.’

  A smile spread across my face. ‘Are you asking me out, Joshua?’ He met my smile with a shy one of his own.

  ‘Yes, I’m asking you out.’

  ‘Like, on a date?’ His smile grew bigger.

  ‘Yes, exactly like that. Sarah, will you have dinner with me tonight?’

  ‘Why, I’d be delighted.’

  With his mission accomplished, he left me alone and waded back to shore. In my excitement at going on an actual date that night, I forgot the water was cold and dived in. Holy guacamole, Batman. My chest tightened, and when I planted my feet on the sea floor and emerged from the water, I was fighting for my breath.

  In an attempt to look cool, I slicked my wet hair back from my face and arched my back like I was in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. I glanced at the shore to discover no one was even watching me. They all had their heads down in conversation or were reading. They had missed my fabulous recovery – I was okay with that. It meant they had also missed my epic fail.

  *

  That evening, Josh lightly clasped my hand in his as we walked down the pier away from the boat. I thought it was a terrific start to the date. Yes, it had only been a couple of minutes, but I already had a good feeling.

  After our day at the beach, we’d all gone back to the boat and took turns showering to wash away the sand and sunscreen, because there wasn’t enough pressure for more than one shower at a time. I showered last – and quickly – but afterwards, I took my time with my hair and makeup. I pulled my hair back into a long, lose braid – pretty, elegant, and about as much as I could do with my limited products and no hair dryer. I applied some shimmering eye shadow, my ubiquitous mascara, some blush and a slick of lip gloss.

  While I made myself up, I could hear the others’ laughter floating through the boat from the deck. As I slipped into a floral sundress, I wondered if Josh had mentioned to the rest of the group that we were going out. On our own. On a date.

  I took a cute little fabric handbag out of my luggage and packed it with the essentials. It was the first time I’d used it, as it was far prettier than it was practical, and we hadn’t really had any ‘cute little handbag’ occasions. One last look in the mirror confirmed what I already knew. I was nervous. The good kind of nerves. First-date nerves.

  ‘It’s Josh,’ I said to myself quietly in the mirror. ‘You’ve spent twenty-four-seven with him for the past nine days. Get over yourself.’ I really know how to give myself a pep talk, huh?

  And then I couldn’t put it off any longer. I picked up my sandals and with them dangling from my fingers, climbed up the little ladder onto the deck. I was surprised to see only Gerry, Duncan and Josh sitting there.

  ‘Wow, Sarah. You scrub up nice,’ said Duncan.

  I looked down at my outfit as if to confirm his compliment.

  ‘Uh, thanks.’ Gerry was smiling at me in a knowing way, but whatever she knew, it was something I didn’t. ‘So, where are the others?’ I asked.

  Gerry replied, as she stifled a yawn. ‘Gary and Marie went for dinner, and Hannah went off to meet the skipper. You know, from the other boat.’ I did know, yes.

  ‘Oh, cool.’

  ‘Shall we get going?’ Josh was standing on the deck, all six-foot-one of him, looking down at me with a sexy smile. He scrubbed up nice too, but I would wait until we were away from prying ears to tell him that. I silently admired his dark jeans, crisp white linen shirt – the sleeves rolled up a few times. In his hands, he held brown leather shoes, which I knew would look great with the rest of the outfit.

  ‘Yes, definitely.’

  Then I looked at Gerry and Duncan. ‘What are you two up to tonight?’ I really didn’t want to invite them on our date, but I also didn’t want them to feel unwelcome either.

  ‘Sleep!’ declared Gerry as she put her hand up to her mouth, another yawn blooming behind it.

  ‘Yep. Eat something, then sleeping. Lots of sleeping,’ Duncan concurred.

  I was relieved. ‘Okay well, have a nice night.’

  We exchanged goodnights, then Josh led the way off the boat, taking my hand to steady me as I crossed between the boat and the land. He knew all about my fear of falling in and being squashed. On the pier, we both stepped into our respective shoes, and as we walked away from the boat, Josh grabbed my hand again. That was the moment I decided the date was going well.

  ‘I asked Duncan about some places we could go, and I’ve picked somewhere I think you will like.’

  ‘That’s super thoughtful.’ See?

  ‘Well, it’s what the guy does, you know? On a date.’

  ‘Oh, really? It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date, I’d forgotten. And you likely don’t know this, but Australian men – they don’t really know about dating etiquette.’

  ‘They don’t?’

  ‘Well, no that’s not fair. I’m, sure there are some who do. I know some Aussie guys who treat women respectfully – they’re fun and caring, and genuinely want to be with someone.’ Josh was listening, but not saying anything. Somehow, I’d managed in only a matter of minutes to leap right into a taboo date topic – other men. I needed to lighten the conversation.

  ‘But in my experience, those men are either gay, or married to my friends.’ It had the desired effect and he chuckled at that. ‘So, where are we heading?’ Changing the subject like a champion.

  Josh stopped at the end of the pier and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. He looked from the paper to the streets and buildings in front of us, folded the paper and put it back in his pocket.

  ‘This way,’ he said, with confidence. ‘Duncan drew me a map.’

  We strolled while taking in the atmosphere of the early evening crowd. It was a good mix of locals – who chatted with each other in rapid-fire Greek – tourists, and travellers. I distinguished between the two because those I called ‘travellers’ were clearly not local, but had a relaxed air about them, moving fluidly through the loud, brightly lit streets. The ‘tourists’ looked either a little lost or utterly annoyed by the bustle surrounding them; I pitied people who could be in paradise, but not see it.

  And then there were the pilgrims.

  Like Syros, Tinos had a giant church overlooking the town. Unlike in Syros, the church on Tinos was a drawcard for thousands of pilgrims each year. The church was c
alled Our Lady of Tinos, Greece’s main shrine to the Virgin Mary. Apparently, a holy relic was discovered on the site, and people came from everywhere to partake of its powers and pay their respects.

  Red carpet lined the sides of the steep road, which led directly from the marina to the church. People crawled on their hands and knees all the way to the top of the hill, and then up the stairs of the church to honour Mary. It was quite incredible to see this kind of devotion, and throughout our brief stay we had respectfully stayed off the red carpeting as we moved about the town.

  That night there were more pilgrims than we’d seen during the day, and they added to the incredible atmosphere around us. We walked up the hill towards the church, and then about halfway we turned off the main road into a side street. Small tavernas occupied spots either side of the street, and bursts of laughter and chatter filled the air around us as we passed. As we approached each one, I wondered if that was where we were heading, but we kept going.

  Eventually, Josh led us down a rather steep set of stairs. At the bottom was a small arched entranceway made of stone, and a smiling middle-aged (that word again) man was there to greet us.

  ‘Kalispera,’ he said softly, nodding his head slightly.

  ‘Kalispera,’ Josh and I replied in unison.

  ‘My friend called ahead,’ said Josh. ‘Duncan Ford?’

  A smile broke out across the man’s face, and he switched seamlessly to English. ‘Of course, sir. Duncan is a good friend of ours and we have expected you and the young lady.’ ‘Young lady’ – how nice.

  The man led the way into the restaurant, a stone-paved terrace that was open on two sides to views of the water and the town. There were several couples at small tables with white tablecloths dotted about the terrace, and it was subtly lit with candles and warm-coloured lights.

  ‘Josh, this is beautiful,’ I said as we followed the maître d’ to our table.

  He smiled. ‘Duncan said it was a special occasion kind of place. I’m glad you like it.’

  We were seated at a table with a wonderful view of the town, and yes, the lights below us were twinkling. I couldn’t help thinking that the restaurant, the view – all of it – was like something out of a movie. Josh’s words lingered in my thoughts.

  ‘So, this is a special occasion?’

  He picked up my hand and held it lightly. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Me too,’ I whispered. A waiter appeared with menus – thankfully, in English as well as Greek. Josh dropped my hand to take his menu, and I was a little disappointed to lose the contact with him so soon.

  Until I saw the menu selection, which was extensive and traditional. My hungry eyes scanned it for my favourite Greek dishes and most of them were there.

  ‘Geez, what an awesome menu. Should we just order one of everything?’ I asked Josh, only half-joking.

  ‘Yeah, there’s some good stuff here. Duncan says the food is incredible too.’

  ‘Well, we’ll want a Greek salad – horiatiki.’

  ‘Absolutely. And the lamb – it’s slow-roasted – we have to get that.’

  ‘God, yes. I thought we did lamb well in Australia, but every time I have it here it blows me away.’

  ‘Shall we get calamari?’ asked Josh. ‘Or the spinach and feta pie?’

  ‘Calamari, I think.’

  ‘And briami. I love that.’

  ‘Which one is that again?’ I asked.

  ‘The vegetable stew.’

  ‘Oh, that’s fantastic,’ I agreed. ‘Tzatziki to start, don’t you think?’ He nodded as his eyes roamed the menu. ‘Josh?’ He looked up. ‘Do you think it would be easier just to go with my original suggestion?’

  ‘One of everything?’ I nodded. ‘Well, we’re getting close.’ We laughed at ourselves as our waiter appeared. He didn’t seem fazed by the epic order, and soon returned to the table with a carafe of white wine.

  We watched in silence as he poured two glasses, and when he was out of earshot I whispered to Josh, ‘I’m sure they do great food, but I bet you a million dollars this is shitty wine.’ Josh lifted his glass and inspected it, swirling the contents as though he was in a tasting room. He sniffed it and scrunched his nose up.

  ‘Was that for show, or unintentional?’ I asked, lifting my own glass and having a sniff. Josh took a sip and cringed as he swallowed.

  ‘I don’t know a whole lot about wine, but I think this was probably bottled in the last few days.’ He took a liberal sip of water.

  ‘As in, Tuesday was a great vintage, but Wednesday, not so much?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that.’

  I put my wine back on the table, untouched. ‘Maybe it needs to open up.’

  ‘A lot.’

  ‘Maybe it will be better with the food.’

  ‘We’ll see. In the meantime, I would like to propose a toast.’

  ‘With the crappy wine?’ I asked, amused.

  ‘Let’s go with the water for now.’

  ‘Okay.’ I raised my water glass and looked at him expectantly.

  ‘To friends,’ he said, and my heart plummeted. Friends? Really? He brought me to this romantic restaurant to toast to friendship? The date had taken an unexpected and unwanted turn. I tried to keep the smile fixed on my face, as I moved my glass towards his.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, eyeing my glass. ‘There’s more …’ Well, good! Because so far it sucks. ‘To friends – the kind of friends you go far from home to find, only to find that they make you feel at home.’ Then he clinked my glass and took a sip of water.

  I went through the motions, forcing a smile and drinking from my water glass. Josh’s toast was so sweet, so heartfelt, and yet it left me feeling, well, confused. Were we ‘just friends’? Is that what he thought? I mean, we were, yes. But wasn’t there more? What about the hand-holding and the kissing? What kind of friends did this guy have back home?

  I realised I’d been having a conversation with myself for too long and looked at Josh. He hadn’t seemed to notice, though – too busy gazing at the view. I wondered what he was thinking. Probably patting himself on the back for such a great toast. I bet he’d rehearsed it; it sounded rehearsed.

  Before I could stir myself into any more of a lather, our waiter placed a basket of steaming hot pita bread and a large bowl of tzatziki on the table between us. Saved by the dip! At least Josh’s mouth would be full and he couldn’t make any more lame toasts.

  See how I had gone from feeling wooed and adored to woeful and annoyed in a matter of seconds?

  Was I being ridiculous? He had asked me out on a date. He’d even called it that. And there we were actually on the date. I told myself to try and enjoy the moment. I took a generous scoop of tzatziki from the bowl and popped it in my mouth. Then I groaned; that stuff was delicious.

  ‘I know, right?’ said Josh, going in for another bite. ‘How good is this?’ We shared a look that said, ‘so good,’ and he smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was so cute – so sexy – that I couldn’t stay annoyed at him. Even though his toast had made me feel like shit, I was pretty sure he hadn’t meant for that to happen.

  And if I really thought about it, it was a beautiful toast. I loaded up another piece of pita with the creamy dip. Of course, he started to ask me a question right as I put it in my mouth.

  ‘So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something …’ I nodded encouragingly as I chewed as fast as I could. ‘I had a question about your ex …’

  I swallowed – hard – the food forming a lump in my throat, or maybe it was the thought of Neil intruding on my date that was hard to swallow.

  ‘Yes,’ I croaked. I stared at him, while he toyed with the question, obviously seeking out the best way to phrase it. I wanted to snipe at him to hurry the hell up.

  ‘I’ve been wondering if you thought there was any chance of the two of you getting back together?’ He phrased it like a question, insecurity steeping his voice.

  My immediate reaction was to laugh, which I d
id – only it was more of a snort of derision. ‘Be assured, there’s absolutely no way in hell I’m ever going back to that prick,’ I said, old Sarah slotting right into my place at the table. Josh looked a little taken aback. Maybe I had said that too loudly. I looked around us, and one of the couples close by was watching me. Yep. Too loudly.

  ‘Sorry, Josh,’ I said at a more reasonable volume. ‘I had a flash of my former, bitter self then.’ I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. ‘Neil was mean. And I was weak and sad when I was with him. It’s so over that it couldn’t be any more over.’ I dared to look at him. ‘Is that a better answer?’

  He nodded and smiled at me. Was that pity in his eyes? ‘I didn’t mean to bring up stuff that makes you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry.’ Yes, there was some pity there. Wonderful.

  I shook my head, ‘No, no, it’s fine …’

  ‘I just wanted to know if I had any competition,’ he said, winking. That broke the tension. ‘Besides James, that is.’ And that brought it right back again. The conversation was definitely keeping me on my toes.

  I deflected. ‘No, Neil is definitely not anywhere near the realm of competition.’ I wondered if Josh would ask me again about James, but he didn’t. Instead he nodded and helped himself to more tzatziki.

  The rest of our order arrived at the table, but I was focused on the conversation. I needed to steer it to a safer topic – meaning, anything but my love life. I drew on a fall-back conversation opener.

  ‘Josh, money matters aside, what is your ultimate dream job?’

  ‘Switching to date talk, huh?’ He followed this with a smile, as he loaded up his plate.

  ‘You caught me.’ I raised my hands as though he’d said, ‘Stick ’em up.’ He seemed to consider my blatant change of topic and I wondered if he’d play along.