No Forgiveness

by Helen Nickolson

  As she healed, the time came when Katerina felt she had to face what had occurred. She wanted to see Michael and tell him what had happened. He deserved to know the details in order to understand that she was not to blame. She loved him and hoped he loved her enough to still want to marry her. Michael had stopped by several times to ask about her, but her mother had stopped him in the yard and hadn’t invited him in for coffee, so he knew as little as the neighbors about what had actually happened to her. Now, though, she felt she had to see him.

  She couldn’t go to his house by herself without causing talk and speculation about their relationship, so she asked her mother to accompany her. Yes, she no longer had her virginity, but she still wanted to act appropriately, respectfully and according to what was accepted as custom; she also needed to protect his reputation as an honorable man so she needed to be careful. He was a good man and would surely understand that the position she had been put into was nothing of her own doing. She would plead with him to not blame her for her stupidity and promise to stand by him and love him forever. He deserved that.

  So, mother and daughter went to Ano Kourouni, where the August festival had been held, to talk with him on a light, cheerful morning. They walked arm in arm, obviously affectionate, somewhat nervous, and full of hope. Their faith in him was such that their steps were lighthearted, and they viewed the future with some consternation but mainly with confidence. “Mama, you did say that he loves me, didn’t you? From what you said he was planning to ask for me in marriage any day. That’s probably why he stopped by several times to see me in the last few weeks.”

  About an hour later, Michael saw them walking toward him from some distance. He normally would have been working in one of his fields but had decided to do some repairs around his house that morning, and they were lucky to find him at home. He was out in the yard cleaning around some bushes and trimming up the broad mulberry tree that provided wonderful afternoon shade. The villages were hot in September and shade was welcome as well as necessary. His muscles glistened in the sun and he looked like an ancient god. The sweat dripped off his back from the work and heat, but he had no idea that a woman could look at him and take her imagination to another level. In his mind, he looked fine but not anything beyond the ordinary.

  He saw Kyria Maria and quickly put his shirt on. He was very conscious of propriety and in no manner wanted to offend other villagers or guests—especially women. He was surprised to see that she looked poorly as if she had lost five or more years of her life. She looked haggard and for her, since she was a good-sized woman, relatively frail. Katerina looked beautiful as always and he felt his heart miss a beat as he studied her. For him to contain his passion, he would need to marry her soon. He had tried to talk to her mother recently but Kyria Maria had been so subdued that he hesitated bringing up the topic. But it had been a while since he had seen Katerina, and his heart raced at the thought of them in the same house and the same bed, night after night making love and children. He had expected her at the dance on August fifteenth and waited around expectantly until he knew it would be too late for her to appear. He wanted to see her dance and to join her if only to hold her hand. Ophelia had noted his expression and his darting glances throughout the crowd as if he were looking for someone. She hadn’t been pleased since she knew he was searching for Katerina. He had also seen Ophelia dancing with Giorgo right beside her and had wanted to warn her about Giorgo, but for some reason he kept his distance and didn’t speak to her.

  As the two women came closer, he thought that perhaps he would be able to gather his courage and ask for her hand today. He blushed and hardened at the thought of having her for his wife. The blush underlined the excitement of what could be and the anticipation of what would be. How fortuitous that they had come to Ano Kourouni today on an errand and had walked by his house. They must be planning to visit one of his neighbors he thought.

  He greeted them with a “Kali Mera,” Good Day, and stepped closer to shake hands. He couldn’t help but observe that Katerina also looked somewhat frail and hoped that she wasn’t feeling ill. “My dear Kyria Maria and Katerina, you both look as lovely as always, but I can’t help but see that perhaps you’ve been working too hard and are a little bit pale. Please come inside so that I can offer you at least a glass of water. Although it’s still morning, it’s too warm to sit out here under the sun, and, Katerina, we don’t want to burn that lovely complexion you have.”

  “Yes,” they agreed and walked toward the door. “We would appreciate that glass of water and we have something serious to discuss with you. Perhaps you could spare an hour of your time.”

  He then realized that they weren’t planning on visiting a neighbor and had come specifically to see him. Graciously, he ushered them upstairs to the little salon he had and offered them a glass of water and some orange glyko and kourambiethes, sweets that his mother had made and brought to him the day before.

  “I know that you want to discuss a serious matter with me, so please go ahead and tell me what’s on your minds. If I can help you in some way, I would be happy to do so,” he offered while looking from one to the other unwaveringly but also curiously. “You probably want to discuss getting some extra help with the harvest this fall. I know you had good crops this year and I’m delighted that this will be a good year from you.”

  Katerina didn’t know where to start or what to say and only looked at the floor. Neither did her mother know how to start and awkwardly fumbled, stopping and stuttering as she spoke, with the story of what had occurred to Katerina the previous month. As her mother explained, Katerina could feel the tears starting to burn in her eyes and she hung her head in humiliation. Instead of being on the receiving end of a marriage proposal, she and her mother were here to beg the man she loved to save her. She glanced at Michael but couldn’t gauge his reaction since his face had closed off and his eyes had taken on a pained but somewhat icy and distant expression. Those were not the eyes she recognized and loved. She could see that he didn’t want to show any emotion, but she didn’t comprehend why. Of course, she thought, he was undoubtedly trying to think logically to solve the problem. He was, after all, a very intelligent man that people talked about having a future in politics. He might not reach the highest levels but exhibited a lot of promise.

  Having told the story, Kyria Maria said, “I believe you have been in love with Katerina for years and were planning to ask for her in marriage. Without doubt, I know that Katerina has thought of no one other than you and her dreams for the future included only you as a husband.”

  Still, there was no response from Michael, and Kyria Maria didn’t know what else to do but continue with, “She is still the same person. Yes, she has been horribly dishonored but her dreams are still of you. She was violated but did not bring this crime upon herself. Her only fault in all of this was that she was very gullible and trusting. Do you love her or did we come with mistaken ideas?”

  Still there was no response from Michael. He only looked at them with a detached expression and dead eyes. Katerina knew she had to speak out in order to feel some connection with him. “Michael,” she implored. “You know that we came to ask you to marry me and allow me to regain some of my pride and honor again. It is so much to ask, but perhaps you have enough feelings for me to accept me even though I am now impaired goods according to our society and villages. I know that marrying me may cause you pain at times because people talk and gossip unkindly. I may also be an impediment to your career and ambitions. But, please accept that I will try so hard to make you happy and to be the best wife you could ever have. I will love you and cherish you as my husband beyond your imagination. I love you now and will regardless of what may happen in the future. Will you marry me?”

  He had no choice at this point but to reply with what he found in his mind and heart, and that was convoluted. He understood that she had suffered greatly and wished that he could spear a knife straight into Giorgo’s black heart. He knew she had been b
lameless in this abominable episode. But, he wondered if he could believe that one sister had so easily betrayed the other; he had never heard of such a thing before and found it hard to grasp. He was sure that Katerina would never have gone to Giorgo willingly, but he could understand how Giorgo might somehow have misconstrued her demeanor or her mannerisms. She was, after all, a natural flirt and might be trying to blame Ophelia unfairly. If he married her, he would be the laughing stock of the area and he had definite ideas of what position he wanted to hold in the village and perhaps on a wider basis. Just last week, someone had suggested that he consider running for mayor of Ano Kourouni. With Katerina, no one would take him seriously any longer. Yes, she was lovely, but marriage had to have a better foundation than looks alone. Yes, marriage had to go beyond romantic notions.

  He had to have the right woman as his wife. After all, he had others than himself to think about: his family and future children. He knew that Katerina was a victim, but he was certain that Ophelia had become a victim also. With marriage, one had to have clear expectations and be practical. He used the logic he had been taught and emphasized the general mandate of the system that he had grown up in.

  “I must tell you that my heart grieves for what you have had to bear Katerina. I hurt at the thought of what that scoundrel did to you. Women should be protected and cherished, and that’s the relationship I wanted with you. However, I don’t see myself capable of marrying you in these circumstances. For all I know, you may be carrying Giorgo’s child and I could never accept his child as one of my own. I apologize and can’t express my regret adequately, but I will light a candle especially for you every time I enter a church. I had such hopes for us and want you to know that I also will suffer. Under these circumstances, we need to think practically and assess the impact of our actions on our families and our future. The best advice that I can give you is to marry Giorgo and keep your faith in God. Pray to Him and he will show you mercy.”

  “Kyria Maria,” he added, “I must say something more to all of this because I have always had such deep concern for you and your daughters. I simply cannot accept that Ophelia truly did what you accuse her of. Ophelia is just another innocent who deserves the best a man can give, and, having known her all of my life, I feel an obligation to her too. Although I haven’t felt love for her in the same way as I have for Katerina, I have always cared for her. The only way that I can see to be of help to you and your family is to ask for Ophelia in marriage. In this manner, I can help you maintain your reputation and good name. Surely, if this could happen to Katerina, it could happen to Ophelia as well. If you agree to my proposal, I think we should have the marriage immediately and not tempt more wrath from God. Yes, I have had deep feelings for Katerina but I also have respect for our culture and norms. If I can help Katerina in the future, I will. However, I don’t see that marriage with her is the solution here.”

  Before losing consciousness after hearing Michael utter these dreadful words, Katerina could only breathe out, “Mama, this will kill me, but do what is best for the family. I’m sure Ophelia also loves Michael and would be happy to be his wife. It will be difficult to bear but I understand. My heart will die, and, despite that, I will continue to live. I will breathe through my lungs but never again feel through my heart. If this is what Michael and Ophelia want, let it happen. I will stand in no one’s way.”

  Kyria Maria heard her daughter and regarded Michael with a level of contempt she hadn’t considered or experienced previously. He was not the man she had admired and respected, and she regretted having come to his house to beg. She was as stunned as Katerina at what Michael had said; but yes, his words held a level of truth and definite practicality. And she did have another child. At least if Ophelia married Michael, she would be settled in her own home and not bother them any longer. She would no longer hurt Katerina. She could only do her best to salvage the situation.

  Gently, Kyria Maria wiped a wetted napkin over Katerina’s face and touched her shoulders lightly to bring her back to wakefulness. She kissed Katerina ever so tenderly and said, “My love, we will do the right thing for the family. We will have this marriage and work through the pain together. Ophelia has been in love with Michael for many years and she will be delighted to agree to this arrangement. Whether you marry Giorgo or not is entirely up to you, and you need to remember that you will always have a home with me.”

  Kyria Maria then turned to Michael and curtly said, “We can have the wedding within the week if you want.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The wedding took place three weeks later and Katerina attended along with numerous people from both Kato Kourouni and Ano Kourouni. The ceremony was late in the afternoon on Sunday, October twelfth, two days after her eighteenth birthday, which she had spent contemplating the easiest way to kill herself. She knew it would be a sin against God to commit suicide and that she would not be buried properly. She didn’t really care about the burial but she was truly afraid of going to hell. Also, she didn’t want her mother to suffer any more than she already had, so she decided that hell on earth would be preferable to hell after death and resigned herself to a joyless future. Time would pass and eventually she would meet her maker in good conscience.

  That Sunday afternoon was lovely, soft and reflective with few clouds in the sky—a perfect day for a wedding. There was very little breeze, just enough to stir the leaves slightly. The day, however, felt flawed and a guarded silence had fallen throughout the village. Shadows lurked in the church yard like melancholy spirits held at bay. Even the church bells sounded ominous and several attendees felt a shiver cross their bones. It scared them enough to make the sign of the cross as if that might hold off any evil, and some even touched the blue eye trinket that they had in their pockets although believing in the power of the blue eye was considered a heathen practice by the church.

  In the last week Katerina had helped with the baking of various Greek sweets—kourambiethes, baklava, and melo-makarouna--and had tried to be as cordial to her sister as she could stomach. It was not for love of Ophelia but for her own pride that she struggled to maintain her equanimity; she wanted no pity from Ophelia or from anyone who had expected that she, not Ophelia, would be the bride. Did she want to cry? To scream? To shout? To curse at the un-fairness of it all? Yes, but Katerina had not cried again since the day they had gone to Michael’s house. Her stomach would constrict with sudden spasms if she allowed herself to think of Michael, so she tried not to think of him. But sometimes she couldn’t stop herself. Her mind wandered and questioned how he could so easily have become immune to her and willing to marry Ophelia instead. He didn’t love Ophelia and they all knew it. But then, she realized, marriage doesn’t necessarily require love. and having sex with Ophelia would not require love either. One woman could bear children as well as another, and, in the dark, one woman could substitute for another.

  She had dressed carefully for the wedding and looked lovely—much better than the bride. Katerina wore a soft blue dress that had a V-neck and cinched at the waist; it showed her shapely figure without being overly provocative. Looking wistful with a faraway expression in her eyes, she walked somberly into the stuffy little church which smelled heavily of incense and candles burning and where most of the guests had already gathered; she walked with her head held high and her back straight as a rod, neither looking right nor left nor noticing the admiring glances of the men. Despite feeling claustrophobic, she stepped into the women’s area of the church and leaned stiffly against a cement column for support and studiously regarded the numerous icons which beautified the walls as if she had never seen them in her life. She wanted to sit but the few seats were reserved for the elderly; that was probably for the best because if she sat, she might slump and demonstrate her sense of defeat, which would not be good at all. The cold metal against her back helped remind her to not lose control, especially since her only wish was to get through the day and later embrace the solitude that night could give her in her o
wn bed. The solitude wouldn’t bring peace, but it would at least allow her to suffer without having to pretend that the wrenching pain she felt in her heart and throughout her body didn’t exist.

  She hadn’t been sleeping well and sometimes the rape scene circled through her head, over and over until her head was ready to burst and she wanted to bang it against a wall. She would find herself wanting to scream but would manage to control that and only murmur softly, “No, no, no, no.” Sometimes, and just as frequently, she woke up during the night screaming and shouting, “No! No! No! You brute. Don’t touch me!” In those cases, she would find her head in pain because she had already unconsciously banged it into the wall.

  She was very worried that she might be carrying Giorgio’s child. She should have had her menstrual period about a week after the rape. It hadn’t happened and she thought that it might have not come because of the trauma she had experienced, that her body was simply protecting itself and trying to heal. But she had also missed her second period. To make it all worse, she felt nauseated in the mornings and knew from having eavesdropped on other women’s conversations that nausea in the morning was a sign of pregnancy.

  Katerina was worried enough that she had mentioned the lack of two periods and morning nausea to her mother three days before Michael and Ophelia’s wedding day. “Mama, something’s not right with my body. I haven’t had my period twice in a row now and I feel sick in the morning. I hope to God that I’m not pregnant. I don’t want the bastard’s child. Mama, please help me,” she implored.

  Her mother had gotten a stricken look on her face. “Katerina,” she said. “You might definitely be pregnant. After we get through this unfortunate wedding, we will sit down and look at all of this more strategically. If you don’t get your next period, we will know you’re pregnant and will have to decide what to do. Oh, my sweetheart, this is going to be difficult for both of us, but somehow, we will manage. My soul, my heart, my eyes, I will do everything in my power to help you.”