by Sara Alexi
Mitsos was blown backwards, stunned into incomprehension. His ears rang with such intensity that it was all he could focus on. Awareness crept back on him and he looked for Manolis, but he was alone. He wondered how far Manolis must have been blown. He looked about him but could not see Manolis anywhere. Mitsos felt angry. This was not a good time for a joke. Then he noticed the dog food all down his shirt, on the ground, hanging off the bushes. Time switched gear and reality was restored. Mitsos understood all he saw, and from deep within his gut a surge of love and anger and fear and repression swelled into his throat and he could hear the noise he made as something beyond himself, the cry of a hurt animal, loud, drawn wailing and inhuman.
Mitsos reaches for a baby wipe, his face wet with tears, his emotions catching in his chest causing it to spasm. The child on his knee is asleep, bottle hanging from his lips. He rolls the baby into his own chest and pins him there with his one arm so he can stand. He gently places the still sleeping baby in the portable car seat as quickly as he can before hurrying out into the yard. The air is no more breathable there. He runs through the almond trees to the wall, the wall where Manolis had hidden. He steps over the wall and strides up the hill till he is breathless, the need for oxygen dominating his chest full of emotions. On past the chickens and up into the pine copse. He throws himself face-first down into the stillness of the pine needles and grieves. His muffled howls release the plug in his throat, and sobs and tears follow. His shoulders shake with his suffering and he lies there engulfed in his own anguish until time is kind enough to release him from the torment by bringing the safety of the baby back to the forefront of his mind.
He rolls himself over and sits up, looking down at the village: his judge and jury who said nothing and in that silence implied everything. He stands up and walks back to his home, to find the baby is still asleep.
‘Sleep on, my friend. All too soon life becomes a nightmare.’ He rubs the stump of his arm, remembering his amazement that he didn't even notice it was missing until he woke up in the hospital. They had amputated the shreds of what was left, because really there was nothing to save, they had told him. He was so lucky to be alive. He would not be so if his friend had not fallen on the dynamite and in doing so contained the blast.
He was in the hospital for weeks, haunted by the image of Manolis falling and looking at him and smiling like a ten-year-old boy, with love in his eyes.
Chapter 17
Mitsos goes for lunch at Stella's after Adonis comes to pick up the baby. He feels he needs to get out, see people. Stavros is fussing with the grill, trying to get it going. Stella is standing, hand on hips, a look of resignation on her face.
‘Hi, Mitsos. We've got one chicken cooked but the sausages will take longer. Stavros just spilt lemon sauce over the coals.’
‘Stupid place to leave the bottle,’ Stavros grunts.
Mitsos says nothing but slips through to the dining area. There are two of his peers there, Theo the kafenio owner and Cosmo the postman.
‘Hey, Mitsos, we were just talking about you,’ Cosmo says.
Mitsos’ eyes widen and he feels his pulse quicken.
‘Well, not you exactly,’ Theo qualifies. ‘We were talking about Manolis' funeral, what a carry on!’
What's that?’ Stella comes in with her notebook and pencil.
‘Manolis' funeral,’ Cosmo smiles.
‘No, please guys, not now,’ Mitsos says.
‘His funeral, what about his funeral?’ Stella asks.
‘No, of course, you were living in Stavros’ village then,’ Cosmo says.
‘Come on, we don't need to hear that all over again.’ Mitsos shuffles his feet.
‘Oh, go on.’ Stella sits down. ‘We have to wait for the grill now, anyway.’
Mitsos presses his lips together and shakes his head.
‘Come on, Mitsos, it is twenty-odd years ago and it is no disrespect to your friend,’ Cosmo says.
‘Some friend,’ Theo mutters under his breath, and Mitsos looks at him, his brow furrowing.
‘What?’ Mitsos asks.
‘Nothing.’ Theo offers him a cigarette, which he declines, it isn't his brand.
‘So, the funeral?’ Stella settles into her chair ready to be entertained.
‘The funeral.’ Cosmo titles his speech, and leans forward to set the scene. ‘Bear in mind that this was a while ago, when we were still using the old cemetery down in the gully between the two hills over there. I don't know if you have been there, Stella? It was the ideal spot to bury a man, maybe even a whole family. The sides are step and the flat area at the bottom narrows to a V at the back; it is very enclosed, quiet, peaceful. Yes, fine for a family, but a whole village!’ Cosmo takes out his cigarettes and offers one to Mitsos, who declines again, still not his own brand. Stella waves the offer away; she does not like smoke or smoking. ‘So bearing that in mind and bearing in mind that the old cemetery was packed to the gills with dead folk, I will tell you the tale of Manolis' funeral.’
He leans back in his chair and takes a big breath to begin.
‘Well, as everyone knows, the poor sod blew himself up and very nearly took our friend Mitsos with him.’ Mitsos looks up sharply from contemplating the grain of the wooden table. He has never heard anyone make a comment on what happened before, all through the interim twenty-two years, not a word. Mitsos had felt accused, but here is Cosmo saying that he was very nearly the victim. He focuses on Cosmo.
‘Anyway, they gathered up what was left of him and put it in a coffin. So the coffin was in the church and the mourners did their duty and came to say their goodbyes. The villagers passed by the closed coffin, not sure what to do, as usually the coffin is open and everyone has a little something to say to the dead. But with the coffin all closed up people didn't say much, they just sat in the chairs, said a little prayer, and left. His family sitting either side of the coffin, Marina and her two girls, dry-eyed, his brothers looking morose. Who can blame them?’ He pauses to take a drag on his cigarette.
‘Not too many came as far as I can recall. People who had done business with his dad, farmers who had fields alongside his family’s, neighbours, church-goers and cousins. Some gambling acquaintances of his turned up with their high-heeled girlfriends and sat at the back. You couldn’t go,’ He faces Mitsos, ‘You were in a bad way, besides you wouldn’t have wanted to go and no one would have expected you to go anyway.’
Mitsos screws up his eyes and frowns, trying to make sense of what he has heard. ‘Why would no one expect me?’
‘Well, after what he had done to you ... Anyway, those that were there, were there, and then the bells rang and the Papas led the procession out into the road.’ Cosmo chuckles. ‘You'll never guess which Papas it was. Do you remember that trainee Papas that came here when we were boys?’ He turns to Theo, who nods vaguely. ‘You know, who said he saw the water become wine that day when we were playing football? It was him, I tell you, no word of a lie. Someone said he had requested it, said he owed Manolis something. Funny bloke. Anyway …’
Mitsos looks at Stella, who shakes her head slightly as if to say ‘What?’ Mitsos points to his mouth with his thumb and mouths ouzo. Stella nips next door and returns with a handful of glasses and a bottle. Mitsos fortifies himself and pours one for each of his companions.
‘Manolis, in his closed coffin, was put in the hearse and they started the steady drive to the cemetery and all the mourners walked behind. So there was Marina, who held hands with each of the girls, at the front, his brothers second; I think his mother was crying. Then there were the villagers and at the back the gamblers and their blonde girlfriends, all slowly following the hearse, the girls wobbling in their heels.’ Cosmo takes a drink of ouzo.
‘Stella, come and put the sausages on,’ Stavros’ voice shouts from by the grill. Stella stands and tells Cosmo to wait, and he draws on his cigarette and takes another sip of ouzo. Stella returns with a basket of bread and knives and forks.
‘No
t long now, boys.’ She sits back down.
‘Ok, so the hearse arrived at the cemetery and the brothers and the funeral arranger carried the coffin along the path to lead the way. The rest of us followed. We got to the end of the central path and there were no paths off from it. The graves were back to back and end to end, so we started to step over graves, following the Papas and the funeral organiser, who was pulling the coffin this way and that as he climbed over gravel beds and around the headstones, the brothers trying to follow his lead. They nearly dropped the thing on several occasions. The women in their high heels tottered and hung on to anyone available to stop themselves falling over. People chose different routes, and we all felt that soon we would have nowhere to go as we were heading up to the apex of the V, when the Papas suddenly stopped at the signal of the funeral guy. There, squeezed in between the wall and three graves, was the newly dug hole, the base of the wall and the bordering stones of the surrounding graves determining its size. People stopped, and those behind who had been watching where they put their feet walked into those in front of them and there was nowhere for anyone to stand.
Finally, we all gathered around, the women in heels pulling down their short skirts which had risen in the hike across the tombstones, neighbours saying what a disgrace the organisation was, and so on. Then the Papas said his little bit and the brothers and funeral organiser began to lower Manolis into the grave.’
Mitsos finishes his ouzo and pours another, and then fills everyone’s glasses. He offers some to Stella, who shakes her head and points to the grill room where Stavros is. Mitsos nods his understanding.
Cosmo takes a breath. ‘So they lowered the coffin, and the foot end, which was lower than the head end, began to go into the hole. Down it went, but as the head end, which was wider, was lowered it got stuck. So they lifted the foot end and levelled the coffin and lowered it again but now it wouldn’t go down at all. All this while the Papas was trying to say holy things, but now everybody’s attention was on the lowering of the coffin. So the funeral man told them to lower the foot in again, which they did, and then he told the brothers to push the head end down into the hole with their feet. The eldest brother lifted his knee and stamped on the head end with such force the lid could be heard cracking. “Careful”, the organiser cried, “it’s only plastic.” Then all the men at the funeral had an opinion of how to get the coffin in the hole but everyone was talking so no one could be heard. In all this chaos the funeral organiser, who did not know the circumstances of the death, said, “It is the lid that is wider than the base. If we take the lid off we can put the coffin in and the lid on top.”’
Cosmo pauses for dramatic effect and leans forwards to whisper. ‘Everyone fell silent, horrified at the thought of the remains of Manolis being opened to the daylight, some, I swear, just a little curious, the girls in heels edging forward. At this point not a word was being said and everyone waited for someone to do something.
‘That was when the eldest brother raised his foot again and stamped even harder on the lid. There was a crack and the coffin fell sideways into the hole, and before anyone could say or do anything the Papas said the words and the funeral man threw a handful of earth down into the hole where the coffin lay half on its side, with the lid ajar, closed to the day but open to the earth. The brothers quickly threw in handfuls of soil, and shovelled a bit over the edge with their feet before the mourners could look in to see what of Manolis remained in the coffin and what had fallen out. Each took their own handfuls of soil and leaned over for a good look.’ Cosmo sits back and takes a good long sip of ouzo.
‘Unbelievable!’ Stella exhales.
‘It's as true as I sit here, isn't it, Mitsos?’ Cosmo raises his glass to him.
‘Can we eat?’ Mitsos asks Stella.
‘Well, from what I have heard it seems a fitting end to a bit of a rogue. Who wants sausages with their chicken?’ She scribbles the answers on her pad and goes through to the take-away grill room.
‘Still, it was a bad day for you when he died, eh, Mitsos?’
Mitsos swallows and bites his lip.
‘Yes, no one deserves what happened to you.’ Theo nods.
‘What?’ Theo's words do not match Mitsos’ feelings. It was a bad day for him because of the decision he made, not the consequences. His head feels airy, as if he might pass out. Spots of light dance in front of his eyes, the tears try to fall and he rubs his hand down his face and picks up a paper napkin to mop his brow and hide his eyes at the same time, wiping them surreptitiously before he scrunches the napkin and puts it neatly in the ashtray. Everything he thought he knew as being the truth feels as if it is melting. He focuses on the table top.
‘Man, you put up with that guy for years, stood by him when everyone else thought you should walk away, supported his stupid schemes, took care of his wife, and for all that you lose an arm. It's not right,’ Cosmo says.
This perception comes as such a revelation to Mitsos, he blinks new tears from his eyes. He is not sure he has heard correctly. In his confusion his mind wanders. He has visions of the chicken hut bar after Manolis had run it over, the sea breeze coming and one by one picking up some of the splintered pieces, carrying them away so the whole could no longer be the whole, it no longer existed. He wants to say, ‘You don't blame me?’ but he is still afraid he has misunderstood so instead he says, ‘We were as bad as each other.’ He meant it as a statement but it comes out as a question.
‘No, my friend,’ Theo answers. ‘Marina told me about the envelopes of money you were putting under her door when the boat bar was doing well. Manolis wasn't giving her any. She survived that period because of you. In the end, the whole village knew.’
Mitsos opens his mouth and closes it again. He needs a moment. So many thoughts strive for precedence, clamouring for his attention, but the biggest sensation is the crumbling of a weight he didn't even know he had in his chest. Have the years of self-blame twisted his perceptions? No one spoke to him, surely that was condemnation.
‘No one spoke to me.’
‘What could we say? You had lost an arm from helping a friend, and you had lost the friend. We watched you struggle with him since we were boys but none of us helped. We just watched. We watched him take advantage and let you take the rap.’ Theo offers a cigarette, but Mitsos does not trust his hand not to shake and tuts his refusal.
‘Whose is the chicken, sausage, chips and lemon sauce?’ No one answers Stella; they are all focused on Mitsos.
‘Mitsos, you didn't think that we, that you, that …’ But Theo cannot find the words.
‘You are kidding me! Mitsos, man, you're the hero! Goodness knows where Marina and her kiddies would be without you. It is us that need to be ashamed. The whole village, we just stood by and you took the weight.’
Stella puts the plate in the middle of the table, wipes her hands on her apron and smiles at Mitsos. ‘Idiot,’ she says quietly, still smiling, and leaves the room to get the rest of the food.
Mitsos can feel with every beat of his heart his internal map of the world crumbling and in its place a non-condemning community that he can be part of, years of self-inflicted guilt melting away. All he can hear for a second is a large fly buzzing at the window.
‘He did it on purpose, you know,’ Mitsos says.
‘What?’ Cosmo asks with a mouthful of food. Stella comes back in with Mitsos’ and Theo’s food.
‘We saw the explosive dropping, I reached for it, he reached for it, and in that split second we knew neither of us would catch it. He threw himself forward and had the time to smile at me when he realised his body was between me and the explosives.’
Mitsos allows his tears to fall. Cosmo stops eating. Theo puts his hand on Mitsos’ shoulder. Stella, who has just entered the room with two plates, hears this last sentence and stops and stands in the middle of the room, tears welling in her eyes. The fly at the window stops buzzing to clean itself. The weather vane on the roof creaks round as the wind changes.<
br />
Mitsos' silent tears run.
‘Stella, these sausages are burning,’ Stavros shouts from the next room. Stella puts the plates in front of Mitsos and Theo, wipes her eyes on her apron, and hurries out of the room.
Mitsos stands up and goes to the toilet in the corner to wash his hand. He washes his face whilst he is there. He bears in mind how many years ago they are talking about and dries his eyes. He returns to find a whisky by his lunch. Theo and Cosmo are busy eating and Stella is not in the room.
‘Cosmo, my friend.’ Mitsos smiles and begins to eat. ‘Now about my mail …’
Chapter 18
Mitsos watches the rain streaming down the kitchen window It is warm but the rain is falling with some strength. He has seen it coming with the season, building slowing, promising, retreating. Today, all day, black storm clouds have been gathering and the water is drumming on the roof, a month’s rain in half an hour. He gets up from the day-bed where he has slept again and opens the back door. The rain is pouring from the roof like a mountain stream in the winter. The wind blows the rain away from the door so Mitsos sits by the table and watches the ground soaking up the raindrops as quickly as they fall. It rained at the same time last year, just for an hour or so but not quite as hard or as strongly as this.
The appointment with his lawyer yesterday went well and things are progressing quickly. He needs to make up his mind what to do about Marina. Things have changed a bit. She spoke to him that day in the square and now he knows that she was aware who the envelopes were from. How many other things are not as he thought they were? He has a strange feeling of hope.
Thunder echoes over the hills and the rain increases its intensity; the noise is almost deafening. One of the empty flower pots is filling quickly. A couple of beetles swim in panic on the surface, finding twigs and leaves to hang on to. He watches the smooth packed-earth yard grow darker in colour, puddles forming as the ground becomes saturated. The almond branches are a deep black against a grey-blue flat sky at the horizon. There is a cat up one of the trees, curled in a hollow of two branches, the leaves making a roof protecting it from the rain. Another cat makes a dash for the barn. Mitsos still thinks of it as the donkey barn, although it is now inhabited by a solitary tractor, and has been for years.