“No, Mana. Xeni is the one. Callie wants her and only her,” Gus adds with great emphasis. He pats his empty shirt pocket and mumbles to himself, “Why did I quit smoking?”
“Well, what if, let’s say that you and Callie break up one day,” Mrs. Horiatis starts.
“Mana! Stop!” Gus implores, beginning to bite his thumbnail nervously.
“I must speak. I am thinking of my grandchild.” Mrs. Horiatis commands his attention. “What if you and Callie break up . . . and what if you and . . .” Mrs. Horiatis turns to look at me, “Xeni . . . want to get together.”
Gus and me get together? She is going too far. I wouldn’t let my parents marry me off, so I’m certainly not going to let Mrs. Horiatis arrange my marriage with Gus, even if only in her fantasies.
“No really. You can stop now, Mana. I would never want Xeni.” Gus laughs, and spits out a cuticle. “I’ve never thought of Xeni that way. Well, except maybe for that night she came down wearing Callie’s clothes and makeup and smelling good. No offense.” He nods to me.
“Gus!” Callie shouts. “Have some boundaries!”
Why am I suddenly the topic of this conversation? We are supposed to be shopping. I was going to look for a new whisk, but now I feel like perusing the knife section. I pull my sweater closed over my chest.
Mrs. Horiatis presses forward. “Xeni is a lovely girl. She’s Greek. She can cook and keep house. But if she baptizes Manolaki, she will be considered your spiritual relative. The church would prohibit you from marrying her. It’s just not done!”
“Well, that’s okay by me!” Gus laughs incredulously, and starts looking around for the store exits.
I am beside myself trying to keep my laughter and outrage contained within my body. It’s classic Greek behavior, marrying off women without their consent or consideration. But this time it’s different. This time there is Callie in the mix. And she looks like someone has drained the blood out of her body and left her on a cold sidewalk to frost over.
Callie interrupts. “First of all, Gus, you would be lucky to be with Xeni. Really lucky. Second, Mrs. Horiatis . . .” Callie pauses and looks at me intently. I wonder what she is thinking in that moment. Is she imagining his hands on my skin, his mouth on my shoulders? Callie shakes her head vigorously. “NO! This discussion is over. Xeni is mine! I mean, my choice for godmother and that’s that. She and Gus will not get together, not if I have anything to say about it.”
I feel as if I’ve fallen into a deep bowl of petimezi, the thick, dark molasses that results from hours of boiling down freshpressed grape must. I’m not sure where to reach out for a hand. Why is God doing this to me? I wonder. Why, God, did you bring me to this house, with these people? Why did I meet Callie, with her eyes that look like blue planets and hair that flows like lava? When it hits the water you can hear a sizzle. Callie just said, “Xeni is mine!” How can I belong to her, when she belongs to Gus, and I belong to you? If I become Manny’s godmother, I will be responsible for his religious education. I must be an impeccable example of morals and Christianity. But if Callie and I—
“Xeni. What do you think? Would you be willing to be Manny’s godmother? You already are a second mother to him,” Callie pleads. She looks at me so intently that I feel as if a silvery veil has encircled us, giving our eyes privacy despite the fact that we are still standing in the midst of a bustling department store, with Gus and Mrs. Horiatis staring at us. “Would you do it, for me?”
My chest is bursting. A good Greek woman follows the edicts of the church. I found ways to avoid marriage, and I thought my prayers for a virgin birth would come true—that I could have a family without the oppressive thumb of a husband. I thought that if I believed enough and loved God enough that it would eventually happen. I thought it would be simple. But it hasn’t been simple, and things are suddenly becoming more and more complicated. There are certain things that I know are not okay in the eyes of God. I try to avoid them with all of my might. I cannot risk my chances for parthenogenesis. Mary must have been so pure to be chosen. I must be pure too. But the purest emotion I’ve been having lately is love. For Callie. And I feel clean. Cleaner than I’ve ever felt. I feel like I am unfurling with new life. But I know it is wrong in the eyes of the Church. I feel as if I am being asked to choose between God and Callie. But God is love, and I love Callie. Does that make Callie God? I am getting lost in circles and don’t want anyone to see that I am coming undone.
“Xeni?” Callie repeats. “For me?”
Looking into Callie’s blue eyes, I am reminded of the mati, a Greek charm in the shape of a round blue eye that is worn as protection from evil. God’s eye. I feel as if I am floating away above the crowding shoppers, above the noise, above it all. “Yes, I will be Manny’s godmother if it is God’s wish,” I reply. Callie reaches out and touches my arms, then hugs me, Manny between us in the baby carrier. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Callie whispers. My soul returns to my body and while in her embrace I notice that the three of us look like a modern-day Mother and Child, but with another Mother.
Pork Rump
Mrs. Horiatis sat on the queen-size bed in the guest room of Gus and Callie’s home and rubbed her feet. Bending over that far put great pressure on her stomach and lungs and made it hard to breathe. She took a break, lying back on the plump new pillows that Callie had provided earlier that evening, and imagined how nice it would be to have a daughter-in-law who took care of her. Her feet throbbed from shopping at Macy’s and Union Square all day. Her stocking feet were happy to finally breathe after a day confined in too-tight shoes and released an aroma not unlike the smell of a baking pork rump. Wiggling her toes, Mrs. Horiatis closed her eyes and indulged in a daydream of a different life . . .
Xeni would poke her head through the door and ask, “Pethera, could I bring you a coffee and a sweet treat? You must be so tired from shopping today. You bought such generous and thoughtful gifts for everyone but yourself. Let me do something for you.”
“Please, koritisi mou. Call me Mana. We aren’t strangers anymore.”
With a blushing nod, Xeni would advance into the room. “Mana.” She would pause and smile shyly, her hands playing with the neckline of her blouse. “Would you allow me to rub your feet? They must be so tired from all the walking. Or maybe . . . I could wash them? My feet always feel so much better after I wash them. I could bring in a crystal bowl from the buffet table and wash them right here. Wouldn’t that feel nice?”
“Yes it would, my sweet. But you have worked hard enough today carrying all of my parcels and fanning me when I got too hot. Besides, you have a more important task to accomplish.”
“What is that, Mana?”
“Well, I have always wanted a granddaughter. Do you think you could give me one?”
“Oh Mana! I am so glad that you brought that up. I just found out, and I haven’t even told Constantino yet.”
“What is it? You can trust me. I won’t tell Constantino.”
Xeni would blush again and step closer to the bed.
Mrs. Horiatis would gesture toward the floral bedspread beside her feet. “Xeni, sit down here beside me. I am like your own mother. You can tell me.”
Xeni would gingerly sit down next to Mrs. Horiatis and with a little smile begin to rub the older woman’s feet. “Well. I guess it is only right that you are the first to know. I just came back from the doctor and . . .”
“Tell me, my sweet.”
“He said I was pregnant with twin girls. Oh Mana. I want to name them both after you. Would that be okay?”
Mrs. Horiatis would raise her palm to her mouth and then genuflect three times before laying her hand over her heart. “At last my dream has come true. Xeni, you are the best daughter-in-law a woman could ask for. Why don’t we keep this a secret between you and me for now? Constantino doesn’t need to know just yet. Let’s enjoy it ourselves for a while.”
“Yes, Mana. That sounds perfect. It will be our secret.”
Mrs. Hor
iatis let a sigh escape from her lips and came back to reality, rubbing her own aching feet. With Constantino and the Amerikanitha asking Xeni to be Manoli’s nouna, there was little chance of her fantasy ever becoming a reality. She asked herself for the thousandth time how Constantino could have picked the Amerikanitha when such a fine-hipped Ellenopoula was right beneath his nose. With the baptism Xeni would become a relative, and it would be impossible for her and Constantino to wed. If only there was some way to make Constantino see Xeni through different eyes, she thought, before it’s too late.
Maya
The moon illuminated the stairwell as Mrs. Horiatis snuck down to the kitchen and quietly opened the door of the refrigerator. Holding her breath, she looked on the top shelf toward the right side. There, as she remembered, were two bottles of fresh milk. Not just any milk, but the milk of a woman nursing a firstborn son. Taking one of the bottles, she clutched it close to her chest as she gathered her other items: wheat flour and yeast. Measuring out the powdered ingredients, she said a small prayer, and mixed them into the milk before pouring the mixture into an opaque coffee cup with the word “Opa!” printed on the side. She took out a piece of paper and wrote out the following words in her neatest handwriting: “As the infant now cries and throbs with desire for the milk which fails him, so may you throb with desire for me.” Mrs. Horiatis hoped that her friend, Mrs. Papadakos, who dabbled in Greek magic, otherwise known as maya, knew what she was doing.
The next morning Mrs. Horiatis crossed her fingers that all would go according to plan. She rose from her bed and put on a fresh housedress, brushed her hair, and pinched her cheeks in the mirror above the dresser. She practiced smiling and looking sincere. Then she practiced looking nonchalant. And finally she practiced looking innocent. Feeling like a silly old woman in a bad American movie, she sent her fears to the devil, left the quiet of her guest room, and descended the stairs to the kitchen.
“Kalimera!” Mrs. Horiatis announced. She was pleased to see that Constantino was already seated at the table reading his paper. Xeni had already arrived at Mrs. Horiatis’s invitation. She was making Greek coffee, and Callie was nowhere to be seen. It was perfect.
Both Xeni and Gus jumped a bit at Mrs. Horiatis’s sudden greeting. “Kalimera, Mana.”
“Kalimera, Kyria Horiatis,” Xeni replied.
“Xeni, my dear. Would you please make me a cup of coffee?” Mrs. Horiatis requested as she sat down next to Gus.
“Of course. You can have this cup here.”
“Oh. I don’t mean to trouble you. You don’t have to give me your coffee. Here let me help you.” Mrs. Horiatis reached out her hands.
“No trouble, Mrs. Horiatis. I was making coffee for all of us.” Xeni smiled.
“What a sweet girl, huh, Gus?” Mrs. Horiatis smiled at Gus and, receiving no response, became firmer in her resolve.
“Constantino.”
“Yes, Mana.” Gus sighed and put down his newspaper.
“Constantino, I want you to be more healthy. I worry about you.”
“Then why did you make me eggs and bread fried in bacon fat the other morning? That breakfast alone shaved five years off of my life.”
“Oh. Ayori mou, I know. I just thought you would enjoy a breakfast from your childhood. But starting today, we will all be more healthy, right?”
“Yes, Mana.” Gus heaved a sigh through his lips.
“Good. Because I have made a health drink for you. I hope you like it.” Mrs. Horiatis smiled and squeezed his shoulder. She opened the refrigerator door and found the “Opa!” cup behind a head of broccoli where she had hidden it. As she removed the piece of plastic wrap from the top, a noxious yeasty smell rose and dissipated as she stirred the fatty liquid in the cup.
“Now, Constantino, I don’t want you to complain. This is a very healthy drink. I made it especially for you, and I insist that you drink it.” Mrs. Horiatis used her most pleasantly commanding tone.
“That doesn’t sound good. What do you think, Xeni? Should I drink it?”
Xeni sniffed the pungent, yeasty drink and chortled. “Mother knows best, Gus.”
“Here, Xeni, do you mind giving this to Constantino? I want to enjoy my coffee here by the window. Oh, and here is a napkin for him.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Horiatis.” Xeni took the cup and napkin that Mrs. Horiatis offered and placed it in front of Gus, suppressing a smile.
“All right, anything to make you happy, Mana. Here goes,” Gus toasted and took a big swig of the drink.
“Ach Mana! Are you trying to kill me?” Gus sputtered and protested.
Xeni stood before him, her mouth open in laughter, tears streaming down her face. “That’s disgusting! What is this?” Gus grabbed the napkin to wipe his mouth, but it was stuck to a piece of paper with strange writing on it. Squinting to read it, he recited, “‘As the infant now cries and throbs with desire for the milk which fails him, so may you throb with desire for me.’ What is this?” Xeni was doubled over laughing as Gus’s milk moustache highlighted his gagging mouth.
“Oh. I’m sorry, Constantino. That piece of paper wasn’t for you. I don’t know what that was. Here, here, my son. Have a napkin. You didn’t like the drink?” Mrs. Horiatis tried her best to hide her smile of triumph. She’d gotten Gus to drink the potion and recite the incantation. She took the piece of paper from him and crumpled it up. She prayed that the love spell would work instantaneously and that Gus would turn to Xeni with a look of love on his face.
“Ugh, that was disgusting. Mana, what kind of health drink was that?” Gus tried to wipe his tongue off with a paper towel. “What are you laughing at, Xeni? You know, if you think it’s so funny, why don’t you try it?” Gus shoved the cup at Xeni, accidentally spilling a bit on her shirt.
“Because I’m already healthy enough. I don’t need a special drink.” Xeni laughed, wiping the milky blotch from her shirt. “But maybe you should drink more—for long life!” and she shoved the cup back toward Gus, spilling a long streak on his green polo shirt. “I heard that you’re a crying infant with a throbbing desire for milk!” she cackled.
“Oh yeah? Well, how about this? Who’s crying now? Who wants milk now?” Gus grabbed the cup and spilled the rest of the liquid between Xeni’s breasts, and started laughing heartily.
Mrs. Horiatis’ sface was a contortion of mixed reactions. Was it good that they were laughing? Was it bad that they were spilling the potion? Was it good that Xeni was shoving Gus across the kitchen? Was it bad that Gus was turning on the faucet? Was it good that Xeni grabbed the spray faucet and pulled it out by the built-in hose and was drenching Constantino? Was it bad that Constantino was shaking his head like a dog and lunging at Xeni? Would it end in a passionate embrace?
At that moment, Callie walked into the kitchen with Manny on her hip, and both Gus and Xeni stood frozen by the sink, drenched in water and the health drink, which unknown to them was really Callie’s doctored breast milk. “Good morning?” Callie ventured, surrendering Manny to Mrs. Horiatis’s outstretched arms.
“Good morning!” Xeni called out cheerily, patting her clothes and attempting to straighten her ponytail.
“I’ve had better,” Gus growled, and then, catching Xeni by surprise, squirted her with the spray faucet one last time while howling his victory and doing a little dance.
“Uh.” Callie looked from Xeni to Gus and then back to Xeni again. “Okay! Who wants breakfast? Mrs. Horiatis? Could I make you something to eat?” Callie offered.
Xeni shoved Gus. “Yeah, Gus, why don’t you tell Callie what you want to eat? Gus wants milk! Gus wants milk!” cried Xeni sputtering with laughter.
Mrs. Horiatis touched Callie’s hand. “Callie, why don’t you make me a piece of toast? We can have breakfast while these two play.” Mrs. Horiatis was reminded of puppies and junior high when boys shoved girls because they were pretty, and girls were too shy to say hello. She remembered a time when playground brawls resembled some kind of mating dan
ce, and she smiled broadly as Gus purposely bumped into Xeni on his way to go get cleaned up, and Xeni tried to trip Gus as he collided into her.
Friends
Gus loaded the bags of food into the back of the car and rubbed his forehead. It seemed as if his mother’s visit was now going well enough. She was spending a little more time with Callie. They’d had breakfast together that morning while he and Xeni got cleaned up. “Of course, she still has her demands,” he mumbled to himself. Mrs. Horiatis insisted that the whole crew accompany her on a visit to an old friend who lived in a grand old apartment building in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco. Once a high-class neighborhood, it now was home to drug addicts, prostitutes, a large population of Asian immigrant families, and a number of senior citizens who lived alone in isolated government-subsidized apartments. The balance of the families and seniors versus the prostitutes and drug addicts was constantly shifting as one more Vietnamese restaurant took hold while the XXX live theaters changed headlining acts, one more playground got cleaned up of syringes, and another homeless person found shelter for the night in a storefront alcove.
Mrs. Horiatis used all this to make Gus, Callie, and Xeni feel sorry for her elderly friend who watched the drug deals and curbside pickups from her bedroom window all day and night. She’d convinced them all to bring her friend a portable Greek feast and visit with her for an afternoon. Gus dreaded being trapped in the old Greek woman’s apartment and imagined the stale smell and dusty doilies that would blanket the place.
Xeni had prepared the meal according to Mrs. Horiatis’s request, a roast pork loin with garlicky potatoes and lemon, kolokithokeftedes—deep-fried patties made from grated zucchini and feta cheese—a lettuce and dill salad, freshly baked bread. And for dessert, homemade yogurt served with a drizzling of honey and sprinkled with chopped walnuts and brilliant pomegranate seeds. The food smelled delicious, and Gus was tempted to break into the foil-wrapped packages for a sampling of the old woman’s meal. Just then Xeni emerged from the house with one more package for the trunk containing a bottle of wine and a bottle of water. Gus snickered. “What, my mother doesn’t think they have water in the Tenderloin?”
The Feasting Virgin Page 15