The Art of Becoming Homeless

by Sara Alexi

  ‘I got permission to watch a film to improve my accent. After deliberation, the church sent me a cine film. I don’t think they even knew what it was; it just said ‘British 1945’. I must have watched it a hundred times. Celia Johnson has a lot to answer for.’

  Michelle laughs.

  ‘God works in mysterious ways, does he not?’ The nun chuckles.

  ‘Well, thank you for my brief visit.’ Michelle says. She wonders if it is done to hug a nun. She would so much like to. The nun is like a perfect mother, a lost aunt. The old lady takes her by the arm and leads her to the big wooden door.

  ‘Well, goodbye then,’ Michelle says as she steps back into the scrubland and the heat.

  ‘Sto kalo.’ The nun smiles. ‘Go towards what is good,’ she translates. Michelle retraces her steps along the path, then pauses to look back. The nun is still standing at the gate, accompanying Michelle with her gaze. At the turn in the way, Michelle waves. The nun raises her hand—it could be in blessing. Slowly the door to the convent closes, the buzz of the bees, the colours of the flowers, the tranquillity slowly shut from view, replaced by a solid brown arch of knotted wood.

  Taking a deep breath, Michelle turns to face reality. The land around her is barren, burnt dry by the sun, a sun that seems hotter on this side of the wall. To her left the open ground extends to the end of the island. Down to her right the town slides away into the harbour, and in amongst those houses somewhere is Dino, hurt and angry, and all because she thought she knew best about the reporting of the pots, that her way was the only way to deal with it, because she is a lawyer. Such arrogance.

  What does she know, really? Not about pots, but about people and about life beyond her self-erected walls of justice, right and wrong. What, if anything, does she know about Greek people, the Greek way of life, how the Greeks do things? ‘Absolutely nothing,’ she tells herself.

  If they had gone about it in Dino’s way, a quiet word with Adonis and the whole matter might have been cleared up, with no shouting. No, the system doesn’t work, whichever way she looks at it. Either there is no house or there are no pots. It is a tough decision for anyone.

  She cannot help with that, but she can help with Adonis and Dino’s friendship. If Adonis is cross with Dino about the report, then she can make that right, heal some of the damage she has done.

  The trail back down the steps is quick compared with the slow ascent. The long stretch of level path across the town is easy but quiet. Doors and windows are closed; the sound of air-conditioning comes and goes as she passes different houses, along with the smell of cooking. Tomatoes at one house, cheeses at another, oregano and onions farther on. Michelle’s stomach rumbles.

  The turn off the straight path is tricky to find. Her first wrong turn takes her into a backyard hung with washing, and a man snoring, stretched on a bed outside in his shorts and vest, with a cat curled up by his feet.

  A second wrong turn takes her all the way around a building and back to the alley. Finally she is on the right path and she climbs to Adonis’ land.

  Of course, he might not be there; he might have gone home for something to eat and a sleep in the afternoon’s heat. In the one room with his mother. What happens if Adonis ever does take a wife? Will Koula sleep outside, like the old man in the white vest with the cat?

  ‘Adonis?’ Michelle calls up to the bank. She looks for a way up. Farther up the path the land levels out. Maybe she could get up that way.

  The ground is full of stones, piled earth, and clear trenches where, presumably, Adonis will lay foundations. Looking into the ditches she almost expects to see the necks of ancient urns sticking out of the ground, or smashed potsherds lining the bottom. There is nothing but crumbing soil, the same colour as had fallen onto and over her when sliding down the cliff face. The donkey’s face is a clear picture in her mind. Life is so short. Are ancient pots really as important as people?

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, you made me jump. I presume Dino has not come back?’

  ‘No, what do you want?’

  ‘I just wanted you to know it wasn’t his idea—to report the pots, I mean.’

  Adonis is dusty. His sleeves are rolled up and his trousers have tears in them. The slick Adonis she met before is lost inside this island boy. He is a stranger to her; there is no resemblance to Richard at all.

  He tuts his disinterest.

  ‘Look, I insisted we report the pots. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I assumed someone was dealing them to the black market, stealing them from Greece, maybe even you would have told the authorities if you were in my position.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to know it was not Dino’s idea, it was my fault.’

  ‘I know it was not Dino’s idea. He would not do such a thing. He understands life in Greece. But you, what do you want?’ His voice is dismissive.

  Michelle is caught off guard. ‘I, well I … I fell out with a friend for a long time, which is sad, and I don’t want you and Dino to make the same mistake.’

  ‘You know nothing about our friendship.’

  ‘I know you care.’

  He picks up a dirty-looking water bottle, takes the top off and drinks deeply.

  ‘You know nothing about me. You see what they all see, the outside, the face, the clothes, the dance.’

  ‘Well, if you want to get into that, it’s all you let people see.’

  ‘What should I show them, eh? The torn trousers?’ He pulls at the hole at the knee. ‘The broken fingernails?’ he holds up his hand to display dirt-ingrained hands. ‘Shall I show my house, my mother who only has one room, a son who cannot marry because he has nowhere to take his bride? Yes, Michelle, I see that look on your face like you suddenly understand everything, but you don’t. Your kind never do.’

  He screws the top back on the bottle and flings it to the ground.

  Tears spring to Michelle’s eyes. She has no idea where they have come from or why. A deep sadness arrests her movements.

  ‘Maybe I don’t.’ Her nose is starting to run, but she has nothing to wipe it on. ‘But …’ No words follow.

  ‘Here.’ His voice has lost some of its strength. Michelle looks up. His arm is stretched towards her holding a roll of kitchen paper, the outside layer covered with rich red soil dust.

  ‘Thank you. I’m sorry, I have no idea where this has come from.’

  ‘What do you want, Michelle?’ His tone is flat.

  ‘What do you mean what do I want?’

  ‘You see, I think you do not have a clue. That is why you are here and that is why you are messing around with Dino, preparing his heart to break.’

  ‘What?’ Michelle’s tears dry up. ‘I am not messing around with him.’

  ‘Then what are you doing? Will you give up your life in England and live here?’ He rolls his head at the island’s dusty interior. ‘Or are you expecting him to go back to the place he has just left and follow your rules? I have met your kind over and over.’

  ‘Well, I …’

  ‘My guess is you have no idea, you have not thought, you have made promises of the heart that you are not in a position to keep.’

  Michelle’s tears threaten to return.

  ‘So I ask you, what do you want? Because what you are doing comes from one of two places. Either you are not happy in your life and Dino is an escape, in which case I am sorry for you and him, or the second, which I think is more likely …’ He looks her up and down. Michelle smoothes out the creases around the waistband of her trousers and tucks her uncombed hair behind her ears. She feels naked. ‘You have a very comfortable life back in your own country, in which case my friend Dino is just an amusement and that makes you a …’ Michelle doesn’t quite catch the last word, which is in Greek, but she knows it is an insult, and she bristles.

  ‘I am not amusing myself with him. You have no idea what I feel for him.’ But after the words she deflates. Something inside has shifted. She hangs her h
ead and looks at the kitchen roll in her hand.

  ‘So you are in the first category—unhappy at home—and so my question is even more important. What do you want, Michelle?’ His words have lost their accusative fire and are delivered more as an enquiry.

  She shakes her head. ‘At the moment all I know is I want to be with Dino, and right now he is on his own, dealing with losing one of the most important relationships of his life so far. I remember how much that hurts and how alone it makes you feel.’

  ‘So we go to him?’

  ‘You know where he is?’

  ‘I think so.’ He takes the kitchen roll from her and tosses it after the water bottle into one of the trenches, and strides off over the rough ground.

  The land slopes down and joins a path. They walk on side by side. After ten minutes walking, Michelle clears her throat.

  ‘Is that really why you haven’t married. The one room?’

  ‘That would make me fit a more acceptable box in your head, would it?’

  ‘Stop attacking me.’

  ‘Stop judging me.’

  They each walk a little nearer their own sides of the track.

  The path continues, but they turn off up a shallow ravine, where the trees are less stunted and underneath them there is shade and almost lushness. They follow a dry streambed, which is dappled by the sun through the leaves. Up ahead is a figure sitting on a flat rock, head bent.

  ‘Dino,’ Michelle calls and increases her pace, but the boulders are tricky and once or twice Adonis catches her by the elbow to stop her falling.

  ‘Dino.’ Her breath comes in gulps. But he just sits there; he does not reply.

  Adonis says something. Michelle wishes Adonis would speak English to Dino, but it stands to reason that he speaks in the language they grew up with.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Dino replies in English. His tone is gruff. But Adonis continues to speak in Greek.

  ‘Your lady here, she wanted to find you.’

  Dino says nothing. Michelle sits next to him on the rock, a hand on his knee.

  ‘Dino, will you listen?’ Adonis asks.

  ‘I don’t suppose there is much you can say that I want to hear.’

  ‘The pots in the cave were not there to sell.’

  ‘Come on, Adonis. You are scraping for money to build a house and then you find something that either means the end of your building and a drain of all your savings, or it can mean a big added income. I am not stupid.’

  ‘If I was selling them, why would I put them in a cave half way along the island? Surely I would need them somewhere near to hand where I could show them to the buyers?’

  ‘I don’t know your devious ways,’ Dino barks and picks up Michelle’s hand from his knee.

  ‘Come on, you know me better than this.’ Adonis’ tone is almost imploring.

  ‘I thought I did.’ Dino’s voice is calmer.

  ‘You do.’

  ‘OK, so why are the pots there?’

  ‘So that one day, not now, some day, when the house is built and my mother has a separate bedroom for herself, someone will find them.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come on, did you see them? They are beautiful, the paintings of the people, they are our ancestors.’ Adonis stands a little taller and closes the gap between them. ‘I could not smash them, but I will not sell them, so I put them somewhere safe. One day, in the future, someone will find them and there will be no link to me and maybe they will go to a museum in Athens.’

  Dino’s eyes widen.

  ‘I reburied them, but in a cave.’ Adonis smiles.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Michelle asks.

  ‘He says he couldn’t smash the pots so he hid them, so they would be discovered in the future.’

  ‘Not selling them?’ Michelle tries to clarify.

  ‘No, Michelle,’ Adonis slurs, ‘not selling them.’

  Dino remains unmoved.

  ‘Dino.’ Michelle interrupts his thoughts, ‘He really needs to build this house. Adonis told me something before we came here. He told me the reason he doesn’t settle down is because he has no house to take his bride to.’ Michelle looks like she is going to say more but nothing comes.

  Adonis scowls and shakes his head, staring at her, as though he is either denying he said it or displeased she has told Dino.

  ‘Come on, you tried to cover it up, but it’s true, isn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe it was once, but we become what we pretend to be, don’t we, my friend?’ Dino speaks up, his anger not quite spent.

  ‘And what have you become, Dino?’

  ‘Well, I am not a gigolo.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Guys, I am here you know.’ Michelle speaks up. They ignore her.

  Adonis puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground. Dino is already looking at a stone that he is poking at with his toe. They all remain silent for several minutes.

  ‘Look guys, you might not be approving of each other’s lives right now, but you can talk about that later. What we need to do now is get that report back, then you can discuss what you think of each other.’

  Adonis looks at her first.

  ‘Come on, what time is it, will the office be shut yet?’ Michelle urges.

  Dino looks at the sun.

  ‘We’ve almost got time.’ His voice emphasises his reluctance.

  ‘Come on then.’ Adonis takes his hands from his pockets, ready to march down to the office near the port.

  ‘I wish you had let me come with you.’ Michelle picks at the Greek salad in front of her.

  ‘No, it was better you were not there. If we got caught it would not have been as serious as catching a lawyer.’ Dino sniggers and pours her some wine before topping up his own glass.

  ‘So, tell me what happened.’

  ‘It was the same girl, we saw her through the side window. Adonis says she is new to the island. We walked casually to outside the door, and then stopped to talk. She looked up and Adonis had his usual effect on her that he has on all women.’

  ‘Not this woman,’ Michelle grunts, Dino grins broadly.

  ‘He smiled at her, she blushed, the usual. “Excuse me”, he says, “I think we are lost. Can you tell me which way the port is?” I froze on the spot.’

  Michelle takes a sip of wine.

  ‘Mousaka, patates.’ The waitress puts the plates on the table, shuffling them around to make more room before hobbling away in her slippers.

  ‘Go on.’ Michelle takes the forks from the breadbasket and hands one to Dino.

  ‘She came out immediately and stood close to him to show him the way. She didn’t even notice me. Adonis used his charm and I just walked into the office. The report was where she put it on the table. Ta da!’

  He pulls a crumpled sheet from his back pocket and holds it up in triumph.

  ‘Oh, well done.’

  ‘And the last I saw of Adonis, he was in deep conversation with her about dance. It seems she was a dancer before the economic crisis.’

  ‘Oh!’ is all Michelle can find to say.

  Dino is looking at the sunset. The islands are sailing away for another night, the sky already the richest, darkest blue.

  ‘You know, when we were talking outside the office, he said he thought you were genuine?’

  ‘Genuine?’

  ‘Yes, any idea what he meant?’

  ‘Um, not really. More wine?’

  They do not hurry to finish dinner. But when there is nothing left on the table to pick at, and it is too dark to see anything but the moon glinting on the sea, Michelle judges it is time to broach the subject.

  Chapter 18

  ‘I have to go tomorrow.’ The words come out slowly. ‘The strike is over, and I have to be in Athens for the meeting on Friday.’ Dino, turned sideways from the table to enjoy the darkening view, becomes still, his long legs crossed at the ankles in front of him, his fingers interlocked on his full stomach.

  ‘Did you hear me?’
/>
  He nods his head once.

  ‘If I go on Friday the boat arrives too late for the meeting.’

  He nods again.

  ‘After that I was going to go to see Juliet. You know, when the original meeting was last Monday, this week was going to be work, but now all of that will happen next week, and then I fly home.’

  He nods again.

  ‘It seems so far away. Home. Like it has nothing to do with me. In fact, when I think of it, it doesn’t seem like home at all.’ The wine has nearly all gone. She looks over to Dino’s glass. It is full; he is not moving.

  ‘It feels like some distant dream, or a nightmare even.’ She chuckles but the smile does not reach her eyes. ‘London seems ridiculous. All that pushing and shoving, for what? There is nothing in London as beautiful as this.’ She looks out at the shapes on the moonlit sea that are islands. ‘And my house seems ridiculous, too. There are Adonis and Koula living in one room, and I am rattling around with five bedrooms to choose from and no one to share it with.’

  She stops herself speaking. The words ‘share it with’ sticking like a fishbone in her throat.

  ‘Stay.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Stay.’ He uncrosses his legs and turns to face her, clearing a space for his elbows on the table. ‘I don’t think you are happy in your work. It doesn’t suit you. You call your home your ‘house’. Who is there in London for you?’

  ‘Well, Mrs Riley and her husband would struggle.’ She laughs.

  ‘Who are Mrs Riley and her husband?’

  ‘Oh, my cleaner and gardener. They have been with us—me—for years,’ she states dismissively.

  ‘You go back to keep your cleaning lady employed?’

  Michelle can feel her cheeks growing hot. She is glad the only light is from a candle on the table.

  ‘Well, no, there is Grace, and Isabella and Doreen.’

  ‘These are your close friends, yes?’

  ‘Well, no. Grace is my boss’s secretary, but we do get on, we have a quick coffee sometimes. Isabella is a colleague. We work well together, and Doreen ....’ She does not finish her sentence. Her list already sounds sad. If she owns up that most of her daily conversation is with Doreen, the office caretaker, she fears Dino might reassess his opinion of her.