Out of the Blue

by Belinda Jones

  What I hear myself say surprises me. It’s something I haven’t heard for a long time. I’m happy. In this moment, I’m really happy.

  I’m just inspecting some plump green teardrops, wondering if they are young figs, when I hear a mini-avalanche of rocks and see Alekos skidding precariously down the verge.

  ‘Quick, give me the grapes!’ I relieve him of his burden and then rush back to him instructing, ‘Now put your hand on my shoulder so you can jump down.’

  He follows both directives without question and I enjoy the sense of teamwork. Especially when he rumples my hair by way of a thank-you. There’s no more denying it – I’m infatuated with this version of Alekos – Alekos the adventurer! Alekos who’s so caught up in his environment that he forgets to flirt. I suppose it also helps that there’s no attractive women for miles, no competition – just me and him and the fruits of nature. A peachy scenario if impractical in the long term. I can’t see him wanting to live a remote mountain existence, though quite clearly he could. He’s just too worldly. Seen too much, been to too many places. As have I.

  Perhaps that’s the thing that truly bonds us – we’re always looking for something new.

  ‘Ready to go?’ he asks, his eyes warm and relaxed.

  I hesitate, part of me doesn’t want to leave, but the other part? I know it must be the raki talking but right now, the truth is, I’m ready to go anywhere with this man.

  11

  ‘It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.’ – Aristotle

  Back at the beach I feel like the keeper of a beautiful secret: No one knows! No one knows what Alekos and I have just shared! They probably think we overslept or had to run some nautical errand – if they only knew that we’ve driven up into the clouds and back down again!

  Not that anyone else would be particularly wowed, I suppose. I try to convey the magic of the excursion in a text to Jules but struggle to find the words. She’s used to hearing about Machu Picchu and Chichén Itzá. Only last week I was hiking on a glacier when a snowstorm blew in and we were left clinging together like tiny figurines in a snowglobe. She loved hearing about the drama. The first thing she’ll ask is, ‘Did anything happen?’ And what can I say to that? Well, we had a slight petrol scare, got a bit lost then a bit hot and a bit damp. Saw nice views. Ate stuffed courgette blossoms . . . My thumb hovers over the keys. It wasn’t so much eventful as meaningful. Yet how can I explain the subtleties of the internal shift I experienced in four hundred characters?

  Instead I write: Day 3 at the beach. Got him feeding me grapes now! That much is true – he’s literally just popped one in my mouth.

  She bleeps straight back. Make sure they haven’t been injected with Rohypnol!

  All is well, I reply. I was there when he plucked them from the vine!

  Sounds a bit reverse Adam & Eve! she taps back. Proceed with caution or you might have an unwelcome encounter with a serpent!!!

  Ordinarily I would cackle at that comment but today I find myself almost regretting discussing him. I don’t want to be cautious any more. I don’t want to think of Alekos as someone to guard against. I was rather enjoying the giddier raki-before-noon alternative.

  So, how are the wedding plans going? I ask, eager to change the subject. I know she wanted the chance to top up her tan before she said I do but it must be happening any day now . . .

  Well, currently number one on my to-do list is remembering why we got together in the first place, she texts, adding a sudden, Gotta go!

  Oh! Do I detect a little trouble in paradise? Or is she just trying to revisit her initial attraction to help write her vows? Either way, it makes me question my situation from the opposite perspective, as in: what is really holding me back from getting it together with Alekos?

  When I made my ‘No way, never!’ statement it was based on the two-dimensional version of the man. Now I have seen so many different sides to his character it is making me reassess my reluctance to get involved. I mean really, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, of course it could all blow up in my face and I could end up hurt and humiliated, but I’ve been hurt and humiliated before and survived!

  Part of me can’t quite believe that I’m giving this serious consideration – before I came to Greece he seemed such a joke! – but now I’ve got this new suspicion that he could be worth the risk. I’ll admit there’s a good chance this could be explained away by the microcosm theory – my world has shrunk down to this little beach resort and I am away from all things and people familiar to me. He has taken the role of leading man whereas before he was purely peripheral chorus. A lot of what I’m feeling could be the setting, the thyme-scented breeze, those arms . . . I think as I watch him flexing on the waterski rope again – bless, he’s so eager to get out on that water.

  Of course, hormones aside, there’s no real need to rush into anything. In many ways this is the ideal courtship scenario – it’s not often you have the chance to get to know someone with this much intensive quality time without the complication of sex. It’s just that tomorrow is my birthday and birthdays always give me that sense of standing at a crossroads and being given the opportunity to make a different choice. I’ve been wondering lately if it might be possible to change course – could Alekos be a key player in that action?

  He doesn’t actually know how significant a day it is for me; I’d almost be embarrassed to tell him because there’s this presumption that a person should spend their birthday with loved ones or at least their favourite people and I don’t want him to feel burdened in terms of trying to make it special for me. Anyway, regardless of any birthday superstitions, this could be a good chance to experiment with advancing our relationship. See how logical I can make this all sound? I heave a muddled sigh – what it really boils down to is this: I find the notion of receiving a birthday kiss from Alekos highly appealing.

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ For a second I think it’s my conscience talking, but the voice is male and coming from a body beside me . . .

  ‘You look a bit squiffy!’ I turn to find MSV, sporting a new pair of aviator sunglasses. ‘No offence, takes one to know one – I just tried some of that retsina at lunch.’

  ‘Ohhh.’ I nod, noticing his slightly unbalanced stance, and then confess, ‘Actually, I did have a small raki earlier.’

  He taps his nose as if to say he won’t tell anyone and then frowns. ‘That’s basically moonshine, isn’t it?’

  ‘Now you come to mention it, it was from a little roadside stall in an unmarked bottle . . .’

  ‘Really? Whereabouts?’ He looks vaguely interested in sampling some for himself.

  ‘Have you heard of the Lasithi Plateau?’ I ask, perking up, realising there is someone I could tell who I think would get it – not the stuff to do with Alekos, obviously, but the overall experience. In return he tells me about Knossos and the legend of the original labyrinth, designed to hold the ferocious Minotaur.

  ‘As in half-man, half-bull?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Sounds rather thrilling!’

  ‘My days have been pretty interesting, actually,’ he agrees.

  ‘And the evenings?’

  ‘Well.’ He appears to think for a minute about whether he actually wants to reveal the details before continuing, ‘I’ve been downloading Greek recipes and trying them out at the villa – it has this amazingly slick kitchen so I thought I’d make the most of it. I mean, eating out by yourself in the day isn’t so bad, but at night . . .’

  ‘I know just what you mean. I’ve done it a hundred times but I always feel too self-conscious to really enjoy the food!’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘Anyway, I think that’s an inspired idea. I don’t cook at all any more, so I’m in awe.’

  ‘A lot of the recipes are surprisingly simple – I could show you. In fact . . .’ He looks across to where Ben and Alekos are now doing a little maintenance on the speedboat. ‘I could try cooking s
omething for your team, after a long day’s work you must be tired . . .’

  ‘Well, tonight I suspect I’d just fall face first into the moussaka and start snoring –’

  ‘Ah yes, you had a particularly early start . . .’ His shoulders slump.

  ‘But any other night?’ I encourage him.

  ‘Great!’ He looks pleased at the prospect of some company. ‘I’d love to test my cooking out on a real Greek.’

  ‘Great!’ I echo back at him, though I can’t help but wonder what Alekos will make of this invitation. No doubt he’ll bring along his card and stick it under the aubergines.

  A couple of customers are hovering so MSV bids me good afternoon and goes on his slightly staggery way. Funny how you feel so at ease with some people. I only met him two days ago, but in terms of my new Elounda Beach World, he’s one of my oldest friends.

  I must remember to ask his name next time I see him . . .

  I turn my attention to the young Czech couple before me. From their body language they seem obviously smitten but I’ve already got Eastern Europe covered for my project so I let them sail off to Spinalonga without quizzing them about their love life. However, upon their return, they manage to get me feeling pretty vexed about my own.

  It begins with an innocent enough enquiry about whether they enjoyed their visit. Fascinating, they tell me.

  ‘I must make a point to go,’ I tell them.

  ‘You haven’t been?’ The girl looks absolutely scandalised.

  ‘Well, this is only my third day, so—’

  ‘Oh, oh.’ She calms down. ‘I thought . . .’ She looks at the desk area as if comparing me to the other permanent fixtures. ‘We were going to ask you about Zeus’ cave, but—’

  ‘Oh, I’ve been there!’ I pip, triumphant. I can’t believe my luck at getting to talk about it again.

  They ask how it was and I’m about to complain wildly about the hike but clocking their smooth athletic limbs I focus more on the views and Zeus himself, which is what gets them all stirred up.

  ‘She’s a student of Greek mythology.’ The guy nods to his girlfriend.

  ‘Oh, me too! Well, I mean, I’m reading a book.’ I need to calm down. ‘You know the story?’

  We banter back and forth about vomiting previously eaten children et al. and then she says, in all seriousness, ‘I’m not sure I approve of Zeus – all those affairs!’

  ‘Apparently he was a fair ruler,’ I counter, surprised to find myself defending him now.

  ‘Ah yes, the king of compromise,’ she sneers. ‘But it’s Hera I feel sorry for.’

  ‘Hera?’ I don’t recall that name. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Zeus’ wife,’ she replies.

  Hold on a minute! ‘I thought his mother banned him from marrying?’

  ‘She did but he went ahead and married his sister anyway.’

  ‘His sister? Oh, I bet Mum was thrilled about that!’

  ‘The sister wasn’t too keen either. But Zeus tricked her into it and though he seemed like a changed god initially, he soon began innumerable affairs and she became consumed with jealousy – all her energy went into avenging the women he’d slept with. Hence my pity. Anyway, we should go.’

  And off they stroll, leaving me on a total downer – I can’t think of anything worse than being a woman whose life is defined by her man’s infidelities. That to me is a true Greek tragedy. And perhaps a timely cautionary tale for me – it certainly plays to all my greatest fears about Alekos at a point when I was on the verge of shrugging them off.

  ‘What’s that look for?’ Alekos complains as he finds himself on the receiving end of my disapproving scowl.

  ‘So Zeus’ mother was right about him not getting married.’ I pout. ‘You didn’t tell me about Hera.’ From my tone of voice you’d think he’d been keeping an ex from me.

  ‘We got distracted . . . besides, it wasn’t all bad – their wedding night lasted three hundred years.’

  I roll my eyes and stomp back to the desk and pretend to be working. I’m fully aware that I’m being unreasonable and this is most likely just jitters about the force of my attraction to Alekos. But I can’t help but fear that I am about to make another colossal mistake. That’s the worst thing about all those dud men who do you wrong; it’s not just the heartbreak at the time but the legacy of suspicion and loss of faith they leave you with.

  ‘You know what they argued about the most?’ Alekos saunters over and perches on the edge of the desk, oblivious to the fact that I’d be better avoided. ‘Who took more pleasure from sex, men or women. They both insisted the other got the better deal. What do you think?’

  I look up at him and, with my best Oscar Wilde delivery, tell him, ‘I think that if both parties are arguing so strongly then no one is having as much fun as the other presumes!’

  He laughs. ‘Good point.’

  I should just leave it there but curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself enquiring, ‘Did they ever settle the argument?’

  ‘Well, they called upon the great seer Teiresias and she stated that a woman’s pleasure is nine times that of a man.’

  I can’t help but snort in derision.

  ‘Hera felt the same way – she was so infuriated by Teiresias’ proclamation that she blinded her.’

  ‘Gotta love these myths,’ I mutter. ‘No pressure in those days to have a happy ending.’

  I’m feeling very conflicted. As much as I say I want to move forward with Alekos, right now I’d really rather he left me to my editing. I don’t know how Jules can be so blasé about committing her life to someone when even setting a toe back in the dating pool has me so twitchy and on edge. It doesn’t help that Alekos is so close now that I can smell his gorgeous scent.

  ‘Do you like to be massaged?’

  ‘Oh for god’s sake, Aleko!’ I throw up my hands, unable to take another second of sexual tension.

  ‘What? I’m just asking—’

  ‘You can only be a normal human being for so long, can’t you?’ I snap. ‘And then, sure enough, the urge to conquest—’

  ‘Is that what you really think?’ he cuts me off, looking genuinely hurt.

  I open my mouth and close it. Is it? I don’t even know any more.

  ‘You know, Selena, if I’m really this sexual predator you believe me to be, why are you here?’

  I think for a moment and then say, in a small voice, ‘Because your other qualities redeem you.’ It’s meant to be a compliment but I suspect it just sounds patronising.

  Fortunately, distraction has arrived in the form of a petite Chinese man.

  ‘Oh, this is Chan,’ he tells me, when I point him out. His voice is subdued as he goes on to explain, ‘I booked you a massage. I know how much you strained your legs on the hike to the cave; I thought it might ease the tension.’

  Oh no. Now I feel terrible. Why did I have to open my big conclusion-jumping mouth?

  ‘That’s very kind,’ I say sheepishly, taking note of Chan’s basket of assorted balms. ‘Does he do it right here on the beach?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve made a little treatment area for you; here, between the windsurf sails, so you have some privacy.’

  Great. He’s just made the situation ten times worse – considerate and accommodating of my prudishness.

  ‘Of course it’s not compulsory . . .’

  ‘No, it’s really very thoughtful of you, thank you,’ I say sincerely.

  ‘So, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, forcing a smile. ‘Make sure you wake me if I nod off.’

  ‘Oh you won’t sleep,’ he says, somewhat ominously.

  I feel like the universe has just given me a big old slap. At the point when I was doubting Alekos the most, he did something incredibly thoughtful, leaving me feeling thoroughly ashamed. Again.

  Ouch! Jeez. I was anticipating a smoothing, relaxing sensation, but this is pure Chinese torture. Chan’s fingers pinch and penetrate so deep that if I had any government secrets I�
��d be listing them all and offering to type them up on my laptop.

  ‘OW!’ I yelp out loud.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ Alekos checks on me.

  ‘Did you tell him to be extra mean to get me back?’

  ‘No,’ he chuckles. ‘Is it too much?’

  ‘A little,’ I say, just before Chan starts drilling his fingers into my temples so hard that I want to punch him. ‘Aaaarrrghh!’

  ‘It’s good for you.’

  ‘How can having your brain squeezed out be therapeutic? It’s just not right.’

  It’s even more agonising when he starts on my calves and shins. ‘I tell you, after this, every minute with you is going to feel like a skip through a field of cornflowers,’ I call out.

  Alekos laughs heartily and suddenly my body stops resisting. I love that sound, love to hear him laugh.

  It’s hard to believe that a matter of minutes ago we were so tense. All thanks to me. I must say, I like this Greek way of arguing – you flare up, get it all out and then thirty seconds later, as he says, ‘It’s done.’

  ‘Finished!’ the Chinese man echoes the sentiment.

  It seems odd to thank someone for putting you through new levels of discomfort but that’s the English for you, whether it’s a bad haircut or an inedible meal, we’ll just mutter thanks very much and be on our way.

  I’m vaguely gratified to hear Alekos cry out a few times when he takes his turn. Peeking around the screens I see his face contorting in agony as he bites down on the towel.

  ‘It’s good for you,’ I tell him with a wink before I start to pack away the lifejackets.

  Back at the desk I find a new text from Jules.