The Feasting Virgin

by Georgia Kolias

  “Well, you’ll notice that this is not just any water, Gus, but a fine artisan water from the mountain springs of Lake Arrowhead,” Xeni quipped, “and a fine bottle of screw-top wine hand-selected by your mother.”

  “Hey, have you ever gone to Greece and seen those mountain springs the old-timers are always going on about?” Gus asked.

  “You mean, the ‘water of God’?” Xeni volleyed back. “You should have heard my father go on with his idealistic recollections of his mountain village.”

  “Man, the old-timers are always going on about their mountain springs, and then you go there to see and the whole mountain is covered in goat crap. So gross. Give me municipally treated tap water any day. At least I know that there have been no goats anywhere near it.”

  “Yeah, just freeways and urban pollution,” Xeni retorted.

  “Hey, there’s fluoride in our urban-pollution water. I might get cancer, but I’ll keep all of my teeth until I die.” Gus shuddered to think about the lack of dental awareness he’d witnessed in his mother’s village, young men and women toothless and too poor to buy dentures.

  Xeni raised the wine bottle and toasted, “Here’s to teeth!”

  “Here’s to teeth!” and Gus smiled widely.

  Gus and Xeni were still smiling when Callie emerged from the house with Manny and Mrs. Horiatis. “I’m not so sure I’m used to you two getting along so well. Was there something in the coffee this morning?” Callie joked.

  Mrs. Horiatis cleared her throat and shoved another bag into Gus’s hands. “Put this in the car, Constantino. It’s See’s Candies. Mrs. Papadakos loves them.”

  “I love chocolate so much, sometimes I think that I could just sit in a room surrounded by chocolates and eat for days,” Callie said. Gus saw his mother’s head turn sharply to give Callie a disapproving look. “I mean, I wouldn’t really. It’s a fantasy.”

  “Well, that’s good because we want you to fit into a nice conservative dress for the baptism, right, Gus?” said Mrs. Horiatis.

  “Huh, sure. Why not?” Gus was still focused on the aroma rising from the warm food and his gratitude for proper American dental care.

  “Okay. Let’s go! What are we waiting for?” Mrs. Horiatis excitedly prodded everyone into the car. “I want to sit in the back with Manolaki and Callie,” she announced, which caused Gus to raise an eyebrow. Callie climbed into the backseat and settled Manny in the center, while Gus helped his mother with her seat belt. As they drove, Gus could hear Callie and his mother muse over Manny’s perfection until the baby fell asleep, and then they fell into a quiet and unfamiliar companionship until the rocking of the car soothed Callie into a light slumber as well.

  The ride over the Bay Bridge to San Francisco was uneventful. The traffic was light, and Gus glided through the carpool lane.

  “Why don’t you take the Ninth Street exit?” Xeni asked Gus.

  “Because I want to take the Fell Street exit,” Gus replied.

  “But it’s out of the way,” Xeni asserted.

  “I just prefer the Fell Street exit, okay?”

  “Well, okay, but the food will get cold,” Xeni grumbled.

  “Do we get to eat some?” Gus hoped.

  “No! It’s for your mother’s old friend. Maybe she’ll have a stale loukoumi to serve us.” Xeni chuckled.

  “Ugh! I hate loukoumi. They’re so sticky and usually stale.” Gus grimaced. “Only old ladies serve loukoumi.”

  “Well, maybe she’ll have something better. Maybe she’ll have a jar of narantzi,” Xeni said sarcastically and smiled.

  “Only one thing worse than loukoumi, and that’s narantzi. Who ever thought to invent jarred bitter baby oranges in a sickeningly sweet syrup?” Gus shuddered.

  When Gus arrived at Hyde and Ellis, he noticed plenty of hookers and drug dealers, but not a parking space in sight. Mrs. Papadakos’s building stood resolutely in the midst of the human rubble, a grand old lady holding onto her dignity under difficult circumstances.

  “Mana, why don’t I drop you off with Callie and the baby, and Xeni and I can find a space and bring the stuff up. Do you mind, Xeni?” Gus asked.

  Xeni nodded her head. “Sure, that’s okay. I can help carry the food.”

  Gus double-parked in front of the building and roused Callie and Manny, then helped his mother to the curb. He protectively walked the women and baby to the building and stayed there while they waited for Mrs. Papadakos to buzz them into the building. Xeni waited in the idling car as Gus guarded the women and his son. When Gus looked back at the car and saw Xeni sitting alone with a faraway look on her face, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had anyone to protect or care for her. As he waited for Callie and his mother to be buzzed into the building, Gus turned back toward the car and held his hand out, pressing the automatic lock button on his keychain, locking Xeni in.

  A Prayer for Gus

  Mrs. Horiatis shuffled into the lobby of the building with Callie and Manny in tow. They made their way to the old elevator with the painted outer door, and the steel accordion inner door. An “Out of Order” sign hung from the small window in the door. Mrs. Horiatis read the sign.

  “‘Elevator gets stuck on the basement level.’ Ach. That’s terrible. How will we get to the third floor?” Mrs. Horiatis asked, dismayed.

  “I’ll help you. You can hold my arm, and we’ll go slow,” Callie offered encouragingly.

  “But you have the baby,” Mrs. Horiatis protested.

  “I’ll be fine,” Callie assured her. “Manny, hold on tight, okay? Manny grinned at his mother and hugged her around the neck.

  “Well, okay. Let’s try. But what about Constantino and Xeni? They’ll be all by themselves with all that food,” Mrs. Horiatis worried.

  “They’ll manage just fine. They’ll probably get there right after us. And if they don’t, at least we know that they won’t go hungry!”

  Mrs. Horiatis laughed at Callie’s joke and started to turn toward the stairs. “You go ahead, Callie. I’ll be right there. I need to catch my breath.” As she inhaled deeply, Mrs. Horiatis recalled the car ride over. She’d sat contentedly in the backseat observing Gus and Xeni chattering back and forth like an old married couple. She’d closed her eyes and shrugged her shoulders in delight. The feast for Mrs. Papadakos was a small price to pay for her magical consultation. Mrs. Horiatis made a note to herself to go to church with a generous offering and to ask forgiveness for getting mixed up with maya. But it was an emergency, she thought.

  Mrs. Horiatis weighed her options and thought about fate. Taking a deep breath, she removed the “Out of Order” sign from the elevator door and made the sign of the cross. “Please God, forgive me for my desperate acts. I just want what is best for my son, and I know if he spends some time alone with Xeni he’ll see I am right about her. Please keep him safe.” And then she added, “You think you could dim the lighting in there?”

  The Elevator

  Gus and I circle the block and then the surrounding blocks in search of a parking space. Along the way we see several mothers walking down the street with children in strollers, and the old Greek import shop that was there before the surrounding porn shops, as well as the usual downtrodden element. After a white sedan leaves the corner with a new occupant, we finally find a spot across the street from Mrs. Papadakos’s building and with a sense of resignation and irritation start loading ourselves down with the parcels of food. Struggling under the bulk of the shopping bags packed with multiple foil trays, we make our way across the street on the green light. A homeless person offers to help me carry my load of bags for ten cents while a tired-looking woman with bleached blond hair asks Gus if he wants a date. Relieved to set the parcels down temporarily, I ring the buzzer and wait for the response, warily watching the people meandering on the sidewalk behind us. I quickly push open the fortified door as soon as the buzzer sounds and push inside the building, relieved to get off of the street. The lobby has a seating area and fireplace on one end and a recepti
on desk and elevator on the other.

  “Let’s take a quick breather, okay?” Gus asks.

  “They’re waiting for us, don’t you think?” I reply, ruefully eyeing the couch. I notice a large stain on the upholstery and, wrinkling my nose, say, “Come on. Let’s just get it over with. Maybe she’ll share the See’s Candy with us.”

  “All right.” Gus walks over, and seeing that the elevator car is on the lobby floor, opens the door wide so that I can pass through, and then follows me inside. We both startle when the heavy accordion door slams shut behind us.

  “Do you remember the floor?” asks Gus.

  “Three,” I reply.

  “Okay, elevator up!” announces Gus as the elevator starts to go up the shaft of the building.

  “Does it make sense to put the bags down for a minute so that my arms can get a break, or should I tough it out because we’ll be there in a few seconds?” I ask.

  “Ah, just tough it out. We’ll be there before you can put them down,” Gus replies. And with that, the elevator lurches and makes a screeching sound. The car suddenly is traveling faster than would be expected for such an old elevator—and in the wrong direction. We brace ourselves against the walls of the elevator car, dropping the bags to the ground in the process. The lights blink on and off until finally settling dimly in between as the car crashes to a halt somewhere in the bowels of the building.

  We both stay perfectly still for what feels like several minutes until Gus says, “Oh. Hell. No.”

  I immediately fall to my knees and start praying for forgiveness. I am sure that this is another test or punishment from God for my feelings for Callie. I’d been working so hard on suppressing them, and while I realize that my sin is a major one I am also feeling a bit irritated that God continues to punish me even when I am being good. I also pray that the food has not spilled out onto the elevator floor.

  “Oh, Christ. Will you get up?” Gus implores. “There must be an emergency call button here.” He presses the button and finds that there is no obvious result. “We’ll be fine, just fine. They’ll come and get us before you know it. Someone will have noticed the boom. Callie will worry that we’ve been gone so long. They’ll send the cops. Or the firemen. It’s fine.” Gus pats his shirt pocket for a stray cigarette, and finding none starts biting his nails.

  I grope around in the dimly lit elevator on my hands and knees. Luckily the food has remained mostly intact. I wrapped it well with double tinfoil and packed it tightly in the bags. Just the loaf of bread and the stack of napkins have fallen out. I quickly pick them up, dust them off, and place them back inside the bags.

  “What if no one comes?” I ask.

  “Someone will come.”

  “What if we’re being punished?”

  “For what? I didn’t do anything,” Gus snaps.

  “Well . . . you did have a child out of wedlock.”

  “Oh please. What about you? What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t do anything,” I insist, feeling my face flush at the memory of Callie in the bathtub. “Maybe I should have gone to church more.”

  “Oh, whatever. We’re trapped in an elevator, not in hell.”

  “Well, when you think about it, this is a kind of purgatory,” I suggest.

  “Not really. If it were purgatory, we’d be in the lobby. Or in the basement or something. That would be hell,” Gus asserts. “But on the other hand, Mrs. Papadakos is on the third floor, so you’d think that would be heaven, and I’m pretty sure it’s not,” says Gus.

  “Do you believe in God, Gus?”

  “What does God have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe he put us here for a reason.”

  “Maybe we should figure out how to get out of here. I’m gonna try my cell.” Gus reaches for his phone. “Crap. No reception. This is hell.”

  “Press some of the other buttons. Let’s see what happens.” I reach out to press “L” for lobby.

  “No, don’t touch the buttons. What if it goes berserk again? Besides, I’m pretty sure this thing is staying right here. Let’s try to pry open the door.” Gus tries to open the accordion door, but it is locked shut. “Does that mean we’re in between floors?”

  “Purgatory? We still have a chance.”

  “Oh, please. Why don’t you try your cell to see if it has reception?” Gus asks.

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Huh?” Gus looks at me as if I’ve grown an extra head.

  “I don’t need one.”

  “Uh, you need one right now!” says Gus sarcastically.

  “Uh, you have one and it doesn’t work,” I reply.

  “Okay. You know what? In the movies there’s always a trapdoor and the guy escapes up the top. Do you see one?”

  “It’s kind of dark in here, but I don’t see anything.” We feel the walls, and on tiptoes search the ceiling for a way out, but find none.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “What, you don’t carry a watch either? Just cooking utensils wherever you go?”

  “A butcher knife would be handy right now . . .”

  “Okay, back up there, gal!”

  “No, I mean, maybe we could use it to hack at the door lock.” I begin searching through the bags. I empty the foil-wrapped containers out of the bags and start to spread them on the floor.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking for a knife.”

  “Do you really carry knives with you? I was just kidding, you know.”

  “Ha. Ha. So funny.” I continue unpacking the bags looking for the knife I was sure I’d tucked in one of them for slicing the freshly baked bread.

  “Hey, wait. Let’s put those on my jacket. That floor has to be crawling with germs.” Gus removes his jacket and places it on the floor with the silky burgundy lining facing up.

  “Good idea.” I continue searching. In the end I don’t find a knife, but I find candles, the wine, dinner, and dessert. “Who put these candles in here?”

  “Hell if I know. If no one comes in half an hour, let’s eat,” Gus announces.

  “Forty-five. And stop mentioning hell.”

  “Forty.”

  “Okay, forty.” I sit on the questionable carpeted floor of the elevator and tap my fingers against my knees. “Or, maybe thirty-five,” I say and smile weakly.

  Gus sits down beside me to wait. “Should we be doing something?”

  “I don’t know. I already prayed. We could pray together?”

  “That’s okay. Maybe after we eat dinner. If no one is here yet after we eat, then we’ll start praying.” Gus elbows me like he is just joking, and we settle in to wait.

  “What time is it now?” I ask. The aroma of the roast pork and garlic is teasing my nostrils.

  “Ten minutes since the last time we checked.”

  “Think anyone has noticed that we’re missing yet?”

  “Yeah, probably. Or no, maybe not. Maybe we should eat.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Eleven minutes.” Gus sighs.

  “How many minutes did we decide to wait?” I ask.

  “Thirty. But I think that’s too long. What do you think?”

  “We could pass out from hunger. I could always make the old woman a new dinner,” I offer.

  “That’s a good idea. These are extraordinary circumstances,” Gus replies stealing a sideways glance at me. “You know, you look pretty in this light.”

  I blush in the darkness. “You can’t even see me.”

  “No, I can. Maybe for the first time.”

  I start to feel nervous, my pulse finding its way to the surface of my skin. “I think we should eat. It’ll be good. Maybe we’re getting light-headed.”

  “Yeah, maybe so.”

  “Can I serve you?” I ask out of habit.

  “Do you have plates?” Gus jokes.

  “Oh. No, I don’t. I guess we’ll be eating with our fingers, Moroccan-style.”

  I
pull back the foil wrappings to reveal the feast I prepared earlier. As each package is uncovered, the aroma of the food fills the air and makes our stomachs seize with desire. We dig into the containers with gusto, licking the garlicky lemon pork juices from our fingers, savoring the tangy feta and zucchini fritters with our tongues, and dangling long strands of dill-speckled lettuce over our hungry mouths. We tear into the freshly baked bread and dip it into the juices from the roast and the salad. And against my better judgment I unscrew the bottle of wine. I worry that it might spoil the meal, not believing that wine can taste good without a cork. But we are thirsty and pass it back and forth throughout the meal until the bottle is empty.

  “This is heavenly,” Gus moans while sucking his fingers clean.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I thought we were still in purgatory.”

  “Well, this meal erases our confinement, our possible imminent deaths, and the real possibility that we find ourselves in purgatory. How’d you learn to cook like this?”

  “I spent a lot of time in the kitchen growing up. I felt comfortable there. And I’m good at it. I can feel the food with my body. I can smell when something is done and feel it in my skin when a dish needs something more.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’m good at anything.” Gus unscrews another wine bottle and takes a swig.

  “You must be good at something. Isn’t everyone?”

  “Apparently, my biggest talent is seducing belly dancers.”

  “Oh.” I pause. “Can I have some of that?” Gus passes me the bottle. “Is that how you met Callie?”

  “Yeah. One night changed my life forever.”

  “I know how that is.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who changed your life, Xeni?” Gus asks.

  “Oh, I don’t want to talk about that. Let’s talk about other stuff.”