by Leylah Attar
“Take Teri with you,” she said. “You guys can come up with an excuse and branch off together.”
As the group meandered down the streets of Naousa, Teri and I kept our eyes peeled for a pharmacy. This was Greece, home of Hippocrates, the father of Western medicine. How hard could it be to find a pharmacy?
There were cute boutiques selling handmade jewelry and leather shoes. There were restaurants overlooking the water, with rows of octopus drying across their fronts. White-washed homes greeted us at every turn. Bougainvillea tumbled over the walls. Music streamed out of ouzeries.
No pharmacy.
Teri and I exchanged a look. She was catlike—silent and stealthy, which unsettled me, because it was a trait I attributed to serial killers. I preferred hanging out with people whose footsteps I could hear. Maybe we’d find a place that sold pregnancy kits and bells. Or clogs.
We seized the opportunity to break away when the group stopped to sample spoon sweets at a bakery. “Teri and I are going to head over that way.” I pointed in the opposite direction. “How about we meet you back here in an hour?”
“It’s not safe to wander off on your own,” Dolly said, but George waved us off.
“Go, but don’t be late,” he said.
We hadn’t gone too far when Teri stopped. “I need to use the bathroom. You think they’ll let me?” She pointed to the taverna before us.
“Maybe we should buy something.” You can’t just use the facilities and skip out. Our neighbor, Shoo Lin, had a sign at the entrance of her restaurant: You no fee, you no pee.
I got us a table while Teri went to the bathroom. I ordered one of the mezes the waiter recommended—a creamy fava bean puree, topped with bite-sized pieces of chicken, simmered in wine and bay leaves.
“So good.” Teri dug in when she returned.
“Delicious,” I agreed.
We finished it in record time and signaled for the bill.
“I think it’s the way they grill the octopus that makes it so good,” Teri said.
“What?” I blinked.
“The charcoal. It gives it a whole different flavor.”
“Before that.” I gestured, rewinding with my hands. “Did you say octopus? I thought it was chicken.”
“Definitely octopus.”
“I just had octopus?” It didn’t taste like octopus, or rather, what I imagined octopus would taste like. “I didn’t see any suckers.”
“It was chopped up pretty fine. My husband loves octopus. Haven’t you had it before?” Teri followed as I made a beeline for the door.
I just ate octopus.
Gross.
And then, as I walked past all the tentacles draped over the railing of the terrace, I felt guilty for calling them gross. Sorry, I apologized to each cephalopod. Sorry for calling you names and eating you. Which was weird, because I didn’t apologize to cows or chickens or fish, and I ate them too. Maybe because I’d grown up eating them, and now my circle of carnivorous tendencies had expanded to yet another species. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
We passed a waiter, sweeping mounds of squashed figs off the street. Teri tugged at my sleeve. “Over there.” She pointed to a rusty sign—a green cross against a white background.
A pharmacy.
Yes!
It was dimly lit, with merchandise stacked neatly on wooden shelves, but everything was arranged randomly—as if space had been made for it as it had come in.
“Oh, my husband would love those.” Teri pointed toward the back of the store and took off, abandoning me in our quest to locate a pregnancy test for Isabelle.
I glanced at my watch. It would be easier to ask one of the store clerks but asking for a pregnancy test was a bit like asking for condoms. You always threw in a couple of unnecessary things to distract the cashier or the person in line behind you, so it didn’t seem like you came in just for the condoms. I’m about to have sex, everyone! Asking for a pregnancy test declared, I had sex, everyone! It’s even worse when you’re in a foreign place, without a ring on your finger, and you’re hoping there’s no ancient by-law that would get you stoned in the village square.
I smiled at the cashier—a stout woman with grizzled skin and kind eyes, as I rounded one of the aisles. There, against the wall, was a selection of condoms.
My eyes darted around. The pregnancy tests had to be near. Or maybe not. I had to think like the storekeeper. Maybe the pregnancy tests were with under-eye creams, because dark circles would follow sleepless nights, once the baby was born. Just please, please don’t let the pregnancy tests be locked up in one of those glass case cabinets.
I walked down the entire section with no luck. Another glance at my watch told me we were running out of time. Isabelle’s pregnancy test would have to wait until we got to the next port, then she could go get it herself.
Just as I made up my mind to leave, I saw a couple of pregnancy tests hanging from a hook, next to other things that needed to be hung from hooks. Thermometers. Walking canes. Nail clippers.
Of course. I was finally starting to get it. I grabbed one of the kits and started heading for the checkout. On the way, I grabbed some chewing gum and a lip balm.
“Teri.” I leaned away from the counter to catch her eye as the cashier rang me up. “We have to go.”
“Coming,” she said.
I turned to pay the cashier and knocked my purchases over. The pregnancy test went flying across the floor. It stopped at someone’s foot, by the entrance of the store.
“Sorry,” I said, as I bent to retrieve it. “It just—” I came to an abrupt halt when I saw who it was.
Joseph Uncle. And behind him Rachel Auntie. And Fia. And George. And Kassia.
All staring at me and the pregnancy test in my hand.
“What’s the holdup?” Dolly stuck her head out behind the group. “Moti? Oh good, we were just about to head back to…”
Her face warped in a five-step, slow motion reaction. First, she blinked. Then her eyes rounded, eyebrows stretching up, up, to the heavens. Her mouth fell open slowly, as if catching up to the information her eyeballs were sending. Then, her chest swelled. This was the point that determined it all. She was either going to turn into a fire-breathing dragon or flip over like a fainting goat.
“Is that what I think it is?” Her eyes narrowed.
Shit. It’s going to be Day of the Dragon.
It didn’t help that the box in my hand had the universal pregnancy test logo emblazoned on the front—a bold blue plus and minus sign. Denying what it was, was useless. Explaining it would mean ratting Isabelle out. Confirming it would unleash a Greek tragedy of epic proportions on the stone-paved streets of Naousa. So, I stood, not blinking or breathing, like I’d been turned to stone.
“What does it matter?” Fia stepped between the Dragon-Formerly-Known-As-Dolly and me. “That’s Moti’s business, not yours.”
Dolly’s fiery gaze landed full blast on Fia. Instead of backing down, Fia got up in her face. I’m pretty sure they would have chest-butted, if Dolly’s bosom wasn’t so soft and cushiony.
“This is between my daughter and me.” Dolly’s voice burned with dangerous intensity. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“It is my business. You know why? Because you never had the guts to live life on your own terms, so don’t go pushing your failures and resentments on your daughter. The least you can do is stand aside and let her do her own thing.”
There was a collective gasp from the rest of the group and Dolly’s mouth fell open. Fia had just verbally bitch-slapped my mother. The hair on the back of my neck stood. This was not good. Not good at all. I had to find a way to avert the oncoming disaster.
Think, Moti. Think.
“Ah, you found it.” Teri came up from behind and snatched the pregnancy test from my hand. “Thank you. My husband loves kids. He can’t wait for us to have a little one. Wish me luck!” She flashed her teeth at everyone, breaking up the battle.
The fact I wasn’t havin
g a baby (or sex, for that matter) should’ve appeased Dolly, but the tension remained high between her and Fia on the way back to the yacht. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, only a lot of muttering. The rest of us sat on the other side of the tender, excluded from their bubble of mutual spite.
As we came up to the Abigail Rose II, I caught sight of Alex on the swim platform. He was buying seafood from a fisherman who had brought his boat up to the yacht. My heart stumbled as his gaze settled on me. I expected judgment and disdain after he caught me stealing, but his eyes warmed as we approached. What was this feeling that curled up tight in my stomach? It wasn’t just attraction, making me squeeze my knuckles around my bag. It was something else—the kind of thing that grabs your attention and says, Wait. There’s something here…
The fisherman took off, grinning at us, his vessel many pounds lighter, judging by all the catch he’d managed to offload.
Alex moved the buckets out of the way and helped us off, one by one, until the only people left on the tender were Dolly, Fia, and Eddie—the deckhand who drove us back to the yacht.
I was following Teri into the salon when I heard a loud splash. Swinging around, I caught sight of Dolly flailing in the water, her blouse swelling around her like a purple puffer fish.
“Oh, my God.” I bolted toward the railing.
Dolly knew how to swim, and she was only a few feet from the swim platform, but she was sputtering and struggling. Fia held her hand out, but Dolly refused to take it. My heart sank as she went under. She came up for air with a great, big gulp, dismissed Fia’s help, and went down again. Eddie dove in and dragged her, face up, to the platform. I leaned over and helped her in. She crawled into the yacht on all fours, her clothes plastered to her body, bosom heaving like she just ran a marathon.
“Are you okay?” I asked, pushing the hair away from her face. Everyone gathered around, waiting for her response. “Ma?”
She turned to her side slowly, her head resting on my lap, and pointed at Fia. “She pushed me.”
“What?” Fia’s brows knitted together. “I did no such thing.”
“Liar.” Dolly coughed and wheezed. “You shoved me so hard, I toppled off.”
“I poked you in the chest. With one finger.”
“You shoved me. You said, ‘Stay away from me’, and then you shoved me.”
Fia stared at her. “You’re unbelievable.” She shook her head and walked away.
“You see that?” Dolly said. “She doesn’t care. She pushes me and then…” She gave in to a series of wet, hacking coughs. “She just takes off.”
“Let’s get you inside, Dolly,” Rachel Auntie said. “Joseph, help me get her to her room.”
Rachel Auntie and Joseph Uncle were still on the outs, but they were a team. When push came to shove, they worked together.
As everyone followed them inside, I noticed Alex. He’d been standing there the whole time, and not once offered to help. He picked up his buckets, the corded muscles of his forearms straining under their weight. He must’ve caught the question in my eyes, because he shrugged before hauling the pails inside.
“Why didn’t you help Dolly when she fell in the water?” I was in the middle of my second swimming lesson with Alex. The water came up to my chest—the deepest I dared to venture into the pool without freaking out.
“Why do you call your mother Dolly?” Alex leaned against the side of the pool, his wet hair glinting in the moonlight.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t answer mine either, but fair enough.” He grinned. “I didn’t help Dolly because she didn’t need saving. No one pushed her into the water. I helped Fia off, turned around to get your mother, and saw her jump into the water. Eddie was busy securing the boat, and Fia was nowhere near her. So, when she started screaming and hollering, I didn’t care to engage.”
I sighed. “Dolly can be a bit of a—”
“A drama queen? An attention seeker?”
Normally, I was all about labels. Sorting, tagging, and organizing appealed to the accountant part of my brain, but I was also fiercely protective. I didn’t care for anyone else sticking labels on my family.
“Dolly has her reasons,” I said. I’d never been able to fully decode her, but I knew aging was not my mother’s forte. She refused to fade away or go unnoticed. She attacked things that made her feel she was being swept under the rug. One time she stole a shoe with a security tag attached to it—one shoe, two sizes too big for her. The alarms went off as we exited the store. Security was called and we found ourselves in the manager’s office. All the while, Dolly acted frail, confused, and apologetic.
“My memory isn’t what it used to be,” she said, clinging to me as if they were about to drag her away to the death chamber.
“What was that about?” I asked, when they let us go.
“I didn’t like the way the saleslady ignored me.”
“When?”
“She asked if you wanted to have a closer look at the watch. Why you? Why not me?”
I didn’t dwell on it. I was just relieved no one had asked to see my bag. We were both flawed in curious, inexplicable ways.
“Ready for more?” Alex waded closer.
So far, I’d learned that flutter kicks were another name for making splashing noises with your feet while clinging tightly to the edge of the pool. And that if you pushed off the wall with your feet, you could glide through the water in a pseudo-stroke. Also, if I had to do it over again, I’d never choose Alex for a swim instructor. Trying to breathe, swim, and coordinate my movements was a challenge in itself. It didn’t help when my brain kept taking a detour over his slick skin and thinking about how it would feel—
“Moti? Are you listening?”
“Of course, I’m listening.”
Alex crossed his arms. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“The back float. Remember what we were practicing last night? Shoulders back, head up, looking at the sky.” He demonstrated, then gave me a nod. “Your turn.”
Doing the back float on a swim mattress was completely different from doing it in the water, but I followed Alex’s instructions and did spectacularly well. I shot him a proud look.
“Uh, yeah, that’s great.” Alex’s face loomed between me and the stars. “Let’s try it with your feet off the floor. It’s a back float. You’re not doing the limbo or dodging bullets in The Matrix.”
I rolled my eyes and stood in chest-deep water. “I liked that movie. And that scene.”
“Back float.” Alex was not falling for my distraction tactics. “This time, I’ll support your back.”
“I think I’ll be okay on my own.” Up to this point, there’d been no physical contact between Alex and me. The thought of his hands on my body made my toes curl against the glossy tiles.
“Like this?” I eased into the float, but the moment I lifted my feet off the floor, my face disappeared under the water. “This is bullshit.” I spluttered, glaring at the pool for trying to drown me.
“Like this.” A small gasp escaped me as Alex lifted my body. My arms wrapped instinctively around his neck as he lowered me into the water—one hand supporting my head, the other my back.
“Mi fovase,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.”
Our eyes locked, his lashes dark and wet from the water. An electric blue current buzzed between us. His skin against mine. The hard, heavy beating of our hearts. My lips throbbed as his gaze wandered over them, the sensation as red-hot as a caress.
When he lay me on my back, my body offered no resistance.
“How does that feel?” he asked, carrying me through the water.
It feels like I’m trusting you with all of my weight. All of my insecurities. All of me.
Speaking would break the spell, so I nodded.
Moments passed before Alex spoke again. “Arch your back. Chin up. Lift your chest. Arms out, palms toward the sky. That’s it. Just let your legs hang.”
“You won’t let go?”
“Not unless you tell me to.”
I took a deep breath and let my arms float at my sides. My legs stretched out in a V, toes pointing skyward as I lay on my back. Tilting my head up, I gazed at the night sky and focused on a flickering star. A hot, swirling ball of gas, billions of miles away, but I saw a starfish, its five points mirroring my body, floating in the heavens, as I was floating down below. I was a million tiny feelers, moving through life.
In that moment, I felt like Alex was untangling me from all the cords holding me down. He was uncovering my soft, vulnerable underside, feeding the tips of my nerve endings with touch and taste and emotions I’d never experienced before.
“I think I can do it,” I said. “I think I’m ready.”
“You sure?” It sounded like he didn’t want to let go.
He released me slowly, first my head and when I was holding steady, my back.
I held my breath.
And floated.
It was glorious.
For all of three milliseconds, I floated.
Then I turned into a flailing inflatable-arms-tube-man. One of those giant twenty-foot air dancers, waving madly outside used-car sales lots to get your attention.
I clawed my way back to the surface and latched on to the nearest solid object around me. Alex. I clung to him like a panda bear clinging to the last patch of bamboo on the planet. My legs wrapped around his waist and I buried my face in his neck.
Bad water. Bad, bad water.
This was replaced by louder alarm bells.
Naked chest. Naked, naked chest.
And my boobs were squished right up against it.
It dawned on me we were in the shallow end. I was clinging to him in tummy-deep water. At this point, I could slide down his body—down, down, down, and hopefully disappear through the pool drain. However, Alex had instinctively caught me when I’d jumped on him. His arms were clamped around my body—more specifically, he was holding me up by my butt. The longer the moment stretched, the more I could feel things…stir. It wasn’t possible for me to glide down his body without hitting a speed bump. I kept my face hidden in Alex’s neck and pretended to ignore his erection. And let me tell you, this thing felt like it could knock a drink off a table. Maybe if I held still enough, it would go away. Meanwhile, my brain was memorizing every detail for archival purposes, so it could replay them (along with a parade of all of life’s spectacularly awkward moments) at 3 a.m., when these tapes usually played in my head.