by Jo Watson
We lazily wound our way up the small steps that seemed to be never-ending. We passed a large archway in one of the walls, and the sounds of cheerful chatter made me look through it. It was a small courtyard full of tables of laughing, eating people. Their happy noises harmonized with the sounds of music and the nearby water feature. They all looked so content. From there, the stairs got steeper still and the streets even narrower.
“Not far now.” Dimitri turned and smiled at me.
The sun was starting to dip in the sky; the temperature was dropping, too. We had reached the top of the stairs, and his hand gently came around to my lower back as he guided me onto a small white wall. I climbed on, dangling my feet over the edge, and looked out at the world. From this little throne of stone I could see all the way across the sea and over the black cliffs as they fell steeply into the blue waters below.
Dimitri sat down next to me, shoulder touching shoulder. We sat together in silence as the sun slid lower and lower until it looked like it was bobbing up and down on the horizon. The sun began to spray bright-orange light across the sky and the sea below. The light flickered and shone off the luminous white buildings, creating a golden-orange glow throughout the whole town. It was as if a warm orange mist had descended and was winding its way through the streets and into every nook and cranny.
The thin wisps of clouds above had turned pink, and the sea rippled with an orange fire. The orange grew more intense until it was almost luminous and totally overwhelmed the blue of the sky and the sea. It was the most magical thing I’d ever seen. I turned and looked at Dimitri. He was bathed in a golden light.
“It’s beautiful.” My voice was an almost-inaudible whisper, and for the first time on this trip I could really see the beauty of this place.
“It only takes a moment to fall in love with Greece, Jane,” Dimitri whispered in my ear. Something about his words, coupled with the view, the fact it was my birthday, everything: I suddenly felt overcome with so many emotions all at once. They flooded my body, one after the other, and rushed through me, shaking me to my core. The shock waves shook and rattled my internal walls, the ones I had carefully built up to keep my feelings contained. But as small hairline cracks started appearing in those walls, my feelings began to leak out, like a dripping tap at first, and then exploding out of me with a whoosh like a dam wall bursting.
It was only when I tasted the wet saltiness that I realized I was crying. I lifted my fingers to my face and touched it. It was wet and warm. I was crying. I was actually crying. I inhaled deeply, feeling a mixture of sadness and pure, unadulterated joy all at once.
“I’m…” I whimpered and the words got stuck in my throat. “I’m crying,” I said and then started to laugh softly. The more I laughed, the more the tears started to stream down my face. Warm relief swept through me, leaving a calm, relaxed sensation in its wake. I felt like I could breathe more deeply than I had in ages.
“I’m crying,” I whispered. “I haven’t cried since I was eighteen years old.” I turned and smiled at him while the tears continued to stream down my face. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I guess I was ashamed. Like it wasn’t normal or something. I’ve never told anyone this before, either, but I didn’t even cry at my grandfather’s funeral. I used an onion to fake the tears…” I burst out laughing and crying at the same time.
Another wave of pure, unadulterated relief felt like it was about to knock me off the wall. “Whoa! That feels good to say.” I cried even harder. “This feels so good.” I looked at my wet fingertips. “I’m crying.”
Dimitri looked at me and smiled. I smiled back at him, tears still streaming down my face.
“I’m crying.”
“Happy birthday, Jane.”
But now that the floodgates had been opened, they were impossible to shut. In fact, my crying had escalated into full-on hysterical sobs. My blubbering and whimpering and borderline snot-bubble blowing was punctuated by a volcano eruption of words that shot out of my mouth at the same time. I was choking on the words as they came out, as if something had been stuck in the back of my throat this entire time, never allowing them to come out, until now. And now… everything was coming out of me. We walked back through the village to the car, and all the while it continued to spew out of my mouth.
I started telling him things, all sorts of things. And it felt good. The crying, coupled with the impromptu confessional, was somehow cathartic. My mind whirled from one thing to the next and at some stage I lost track of what I was even saying. Words spewed and tears flowed and it didn’t look like they were going to be ending anytime soon…
“… I always felt like a disappointment to my mother…”
“… and some days I crave carbs sooooo badly…”
“… they are so fucking gorgeous and sometimes I hate them for it… how can I hate my own sisters…”
“… It’s like I always felt like the ugly duckling and that people judged me by the way I looked…”
“… he screamed in Klingon when he came. I mean, Klingon!”
“… always the odd one out. Always!”
“… not that he ever gave me an earth-shattering orgasm…”
“… I just want someone to love me, me. The real me…”
“… and that’s why I prefer the company of my pet fish…”
“… not that I know who the real me is…”
“… I just always feel like I’m not good enough…”
“… Okay, yes, I had a sex dream about you on the plane, no big deal…”
The car stopped, but my tearful rant continued.
“… but I just don’t think anyone will ever love me…”
“… and I swear I put on ten pounds just from eating that bread stick…”
“… sometimes I just feel so unlovable…”
It was then that I noticed we were parked outside Dimitri’s house and that he had turned in his seat and was listening to me intently. Two thoughts ran through my mind. One, what the fuck had I just told him? I’d been talking for half an hour and it was pretty blurry. And two:
“This isn’t my hotel.”
“You checked out of your hotel, remember?”
“So what does that mean?”
“You’ll be sleeping over tonight.”
And that set me off again instantly. More tears streamed. “But I don’t want to stay here.” I felt all the shame and embarrassment over what I had done with Dimitri last night rush back.
“I told you, that’s not going to happen again,” he said reassuringly.
“But what if your neighbors see me again? I don’t think I could face them, after what happened with the window.”
“No one cares about stuff like that, Jane. We Greeks are always having big public scenes. It’s our way; if you aren’t shouting dramatically, you aren’t Greek. Your inner Greek is just coming out.”
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I wanted my inner Greek barreling out. I sniffled as I walked back into his house for the second time in twenty-four hours. I mentally cursed myself for every step I took. I was sure that somewhere in my mind I knew this was the wrong thing to be doing, but for some reason I just wasn’t able to stop.
“I’m so sorry I told you all that stuff in the car. I didn’t mean to blabber and cry like that.”
“Don’t worry. I have six sisters, remember? I’m used to this kind of stuff.” He gave me a soft, encouraging smile, and the friendly warmth in his eyes made me believe he wasn’t just saying that.
“I should probably call my mom and tell her that I’m staying. I called her at the airport and told her that I was coming home early.” I took my phone out of my bag, headed out the front door to the small courtyard, and dialed. She answered immediately and didn’t even say hello.
“And can they get you onto the flight?” She sounded panicked. It was actually nice to hear her voice. It sounded like she was genuinely worried for me, and it felt good.
“Well… uhm… I’ve kind of decided to stay a little longer, Mom.”
“Why?”
“The tour guide I was telling you about, he’s helping me get in touch with a private investigator who thinks he can help me.”
“Oh. That’s great news.”
“Really? You think that’s great news?”
“Yes. I know how much finding him means to you, and I just want you to be happy.”
“Uh… you do?” Who was this woman I was talking to? She had been acting strangely since I’d left for Greece.
“Just be careful, though. You know what Greek tour guides are like.”
“Sure, Mom. I heard you the first time.” And just when I was really wondering whether someone had kidnapped my mother, she returned in full force.
“And don’t have an orgy.”
“Mom! What are you talking about? Jesus, what the hell has that got to do with anything?”
“Well, they invented the bloody thing. It’s practically all over their pottery and art. I Googled it last night.”
I looked up to make sure Dimitri was out of earshot. “You Googled orgies last night?” I whispered down the phone.
“No, no,” she laughed, “I Googled Greece. I realized I hardly know anything about the place you come from. We should have all gone there for a family holiday or something.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to think. She’d never said anything like this before, or showed any iota of interest in where I came from, or how I felt about it.
“It looks really beautiful there, and I hope you at least try to have some fun there, too.”
“I’ll try.” I put the phone down and looked at it for a moment or two, feeling genuinely confused by my mother.
“Is everything okay?” Dimitri asked, standing in the doorway.
“Oh yes. Fine. Fine. It’s just my mom.”
“Come,” he said and led me up a small staircase in his kitchen that I hadn’t noticed earlier. We popped out on a balcony that was just big enough for a small sofa and a table. I walked to the edge of the balcony and looked over. His house was set far back on the hill and looked out over the sea and the town below.
It was dark now; the orange light was gone but the whole town below was lit up. The sea in the distance was dark, except for the odd shards of silver that the moon sprayed on the water’s surface. There were some stars out, not that many, or maybe they were just hard to see given the lights of the village. A huge cruise liner was making its way across the sea and cast yellow lights across the ocean as it traveled. Everything was just so warm, almost comforting.
I was so overcome by the beauty of everything that I tasted the familiar salty feeling. I had started crying again, thankfully softly and more dignified this time. It felt like I had seven years of tears trapped inside me and they were just now coming out.
“You okay?” Dimitri came up behind me.
I nodded slightly and we walked over to the couch and sat down. “I just feel so emotional. It’s hard to explain.”
“It makes perfect sense.” He looked tentative for a second and then very slowly wrapped his arm around me.
“It’s not strictly professional, but do you mind?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I suppose not.”
He pulled me closer and I didn’t object. It felt good.
“You must think I’m some sort of madwoman.”
“I don’t.” It sounded genuine, but I wasn’t totally convinced. How could he not think I was partially insane? Or at least had a mild case of hysteria.
“I told you, I’m used to this. I went through this at least once a year when one of my sisters was going through a breakup. In fact, they were far more dramatic than you. Trust me, this is a mild meltdown. You haven’t seen a full Greek meltdown yet.”
I laughed and then cried at the same time. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It can’t go on forever. You know a person can actually get dehydrated from crying,” I whimpered.
“It’ll stop when it’s meant to.” He didn’t say another word; he only pulled me closer until my head was against his shoulder. I was aware that I was probably wetting his shirt with my tears.
I’m not sure how long I cried or when I finally succumbed to the pull of sleep; all I remember was how good the process of falling asleep on his shoulder felt. He smelled like a mixture of deodorant, saltiness, and some amazingly fragrant conditioner that I vaguely reminded myself to ask him about when I wasn’t crying.
When I woke up, there my head was still on Dimitri’s shoulder. I looked over to make sure I hadn’t woken him. His head was back, his mouth slightly open, and he was fast asleep. To my relief I realized that I was no longer crying. Maybe I could turn it off for another seven years or so. I gazed at his profile. God, he was so beautiful, and this moment felt so weirdly surreal.
I held my breath and leaned in slowly to take a closer look at him. I might never get another chance to examine someone so good-looking up close. I almost felt like I was doing some kind of necessary scientific research. This was very important information that I was gathering for the sake of womankind.
I leaned in until I could see the pores in his skin. I could see almost every small hair making up his five-o’clock shadow, and everything looked magnified. His eyelashes were remarkably long, too. Why do men get blessed with such long eyelashes when we’re always trying to find serums and things to make them longer?
He had the smallest collection of laugh lines at the edge of his eyes, and somehow that made him even sexier, as did that slight line in his forehead. Men get wrinkles and it’s sexy; women get them and, like my mother, plow needles into them. And then I noticed the tiniest, most perfect little freckle just under his left eye. I think I was about an inch away from his face now, my eyes sweeping from left to right, trying to emblazon it into my mind so that I could come back and examine it further at a later stage—for scientific research obviously. I was just marveling at the wondrous shape of his nose up close when an eye opened. Then another.
Big fucking oops! I froze. My face barely an inch from his.
“Hi.” His voice was sleepy and sounded like pure sex.
“Hi.” Awkward. So, very very awkward. “I was just…” I stopped. There was no way out of this. He knew what I was doing; anyone who saw this would have known what I was doing. I shrugged. “I was examining you.”
His smile grew. “I see that. And what did you find?”
“Well…” My face still hadn’t moved. I was so busted. I might as well tell the truth. “Do you know how good-looking you are? It’s almost unnatural on a genetic, perhaps even molecular level. You shouldn’t be this good-looking; it’s not very fair. To anyone. To women, to men. It’s not right. Are you aware of that?”
His eyes lit up. “No one’s ever put it quite like that.”
“Well, it’s true. You’re so good-looking it’s obscene. But I’m sure you know that, what with all the black-and-white well-lit spearfishing you do. Not to mention all that sex on the beach with those fancy wristwatches and the important thinking you do on giant chessboards and all.”
I was on a roll now and felt strangely uninhibited as my confidence grew. “You must notice how women and some men look at you. They basically look as if they are one second away from tearing you apart with their teeth. You could quite literally have any woman in the world you wanted and I suspect could convert a few straight men, too.”
His smile grew even more. His eyes gave off a kind of seductive air that made me swallow hard. My face was still only inches from his and not moving. God, why am I not moving my face away from him?
“Anything else?” he asked slowly.
“Yes, and on top of all that you don’t seem to have any of the qualities that I expected someone that looks like you to have. It’s all a bit confusing actually.”
“Qualities?”
“You know, the types of things
people might think about you when they first meet you?”
Dimitri suddenly leaned in even closer until our noses were almost touching. Move, Jane! Move backward. But I didn’t. “And”—his eyes locked onto mine, and his voice was a mere whisper now—“what do people think when they first meet me?”
“Well, uh, that you might be… that someone who looks like you could be a bit vain and arrogant and not very nice, maybe. You know?”
“Are you saying you think I’m a nice guy?” He sounded playful.
“Maybe.” I smiled.
“Anything else you want to share with me?”
“Nope. I think that about covers it all really.” I started to stand up.
“Hey, where’re you going?”
“I thought I should go to bed.”
“But it’s your turn,” he said matter-of-factly.
“My turn for what?” I asked nervously.
“You can’t do that to me and not expect me to do it back.”
“Oh God, please don’t.” I wanted to die of embarrassment at the mere suggestion. I hated having people look at me.
“Come.” He patted the sofa next to him and I lowered myself tentatively, waiting for him to speak. But instead, he leaned in all the way to my face, as close as I had been. I instinctively closed my eyes tightly, the closeness was so intimidating. Not just because I could feel the hotness radiating off his flawless skin. It was more because of the strange new feeling that was starting to creep in. It was easier to be nervous around the hot Greek playboy from before. But this guy on the sofa—he was downright unsettling.
“Uh-uh, open them.” He wasn’t asking; it sounded more like a command, and I felt absolutely compelled to obey. I snapped my eyes open and gave him the most relaxed see how fucking cool and unperturbed I am look I could muster. But I suspected I was failing dismally from the smile that leapt into his eyes.
“Please don’t,” I begged.
“Scared of what I’ll say?”
I nodded and cringed all at the same terrible time. This was my worst nightmare realized.
He leaned in, brought his lips up to my ear, and spoke in a husky whisper that paralyzed me. “You’re beautiful, Jane.”