“It is good to sample other dishes. You learn what you like and what you don’t like, eh?” Mrs. Horiatis added, nudging Gus, “or who the best cook is!” His mother shimmied her shoulders as a classic Greek tune was played over the sound system. “I wonder what time the band will arrive. I want to dance!”
“You’re in a good mood, Mana. What are you celebrating?” Gus asked.
“Everything! My grandson, my son, new friends,” she said and she raised her glass to Xeni. Gus noticed Callie shift uncomfortably in her seat.
Xeni raised her glass in return and said, “Well, I toast to Callie, who brought your grandson into the world and learned to cook like a real Greek.”
Callie smiled her appreciation for Xeni’s gesture and cleared her throat. “I toast to all of you, who have opened your hearts, your culture, and your arms to me. Cheers!”
“Salut!” Gus toasted.
“Yia mas!” Xeni raised her glass.
His mother readjusted her sequined brooch and took a demure sip of champagne, looking away from the table and Callie’s waiting eyes.
As dinner proceeded and the champagne bottle was drained, a trio of middle-aged Greek men emerged and started setting up equipment. Xeni was showing Callie how to split open the tiny smelt and peel out the spine before popping the whole fish into her mouth. Gus was spearing chunks of fried cheese with his fork and swigging ouzo. As the band began to play the first song of the night, Mrs. Horiatis blurted out, “Constantino, why don’t you and Xeni dance?”
“Huh, are you kidding? They finally brought my steak. I’m starving,” and he pushed a bloody hunk of meat into his mouth.
“I already told you I don’t dance, Mrs. Horiatis. I’m here for dinner and company,” Xeni interjected.
Just then a female singer with a long black wig and liquid eyeliner came onstage and started singing a spirited tsifteteli. Callie wiped the corners of her mouth with the blue napkin and started to bounce in her seat to the music. The singer caught sight of her and called into the microphone, “Ella na horepsoume!” and gestured toward her, beckoning her to the dance floor. “Come on, let’s dance!” Callie blushed and paused, looking at Gus.
“Go for it, babe. Take Xeni with you.” When Xeni threw him a dirty look, he winked and whispered, “It’s payback time for telling me to drink that nasty health concoction.”
Xeni grimaced. “I guess I owe you one.”
• • •
Callie reached out her slender white arm toward Xeni, silently willing her to rise. Her fingernails shimmered with the reflected light of the candles, and a stack of bangles slid down her soft skin and landed with a jingle at her wrist below her tattoo of the Virgin Mary. She waited there for a moment with her arm extended over the table, her heart pounding in her chest, until Xeni finally pushed back her chair and stood up.
“Okay. But I really don’t dance.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” Callie murmured as she took Xeni’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Standing under the muted lights of the parquet dance floor, Callie lifted one arm over her head and twirled her wrist. She kept her eyes on Xeni’s as she slipped her other hand onto Xeni’s back.
“Just swing your hips side to side, like this, see?” and as Callie demonstrated, her skirt swung freely like the slapping tail of a silvery fish. “And raise your arms until your heart is lifted inside of your ribs.” Callie spoke into Xeni’s ear. “Close your eyes and forget that anyone else exists. Just feel the music in your body, and let it take over your heart, let it pump the blood through your veins.” And as Callie spoke she felt Xeni relax into the music, and her hips were loosened from their petrified state and swung.
Callie’s bangles jingled in time with the music, her exhale finding Xeni’s skin as they danced dangerously close to each other. Callie’s mouth curled into a sly smile as Xeni opened her eyes. “You look gorgeous. I knew you could dance.” And then Callie reached back and gently pulled the rubber band out of Xeni’s hair, watching as it cascaded down around her shoulders, moving in time to the music. Callie released the stress of the last month of trying to please Gus and his mother, allowed herself to stop thinking about Manny for the length of a song, and let her body and mind find Xeni. She let the champagne and the warmth of Xeni’s dancing body envelop her in a lovely hazy, sensual glow.
“You look like a beautiful mermaid tonight in the middle of the Aegean Sea, surrounded by ridiculous Greeks,” Xeni whispered. Callie danced with Xeni as if no one else existed, and complications had evaporated into the beat of the dumbek. The singer, inspired by their dancing, continued her medley of tsiftetelia, encouraging the women to dance with her shouted praises, “Yiassou koritsia!”
A Shiny New Penny
Another party, a family of Greeks, had joined Callie and Xeni on the dance floor. Gus watched from the table, his vision slightly blurry from the ouzo and the fatigue of trying to accomplish his mother’s many requests. He watched Callie and Xeni dance, remembering that night he first met Callie, and sighed. He watched with amusement as he witnessed Xeni loosen up for the first time, shaking her shoulders and swinging her hips. And then his attention shifted to the others on the dance floor. A few young men danced in a group and egged each other on to jump higher, dip lower. There was an older man, perhaps a father, dancing with his grown daughter. Gus remembered his own father, his retreating back, his weary countenance, but shook those thoughts away quickly. The woman was beautiful with dark almond eyes and lustrous black hair. She embodied the music with subtlety and a slow sensuality. The older man clapped as she twirled and swayed, and the singer called out “Yiassou Panayiota!” from the stage. The woman blushed, hiding her eyes behind her glossy black lashes. The older man looked proud and clapped with renewed gusto. “I can’t believe they are out dancing and making such a big show,” Mrs. Horiatis harrumphed.
“What do you mean, Mana?”
Mrs. Horiatis leaned in close to Gus. “That girl, Panayiota, see her? They call her Penny.” she whispered from behind her napkin.
“Yes, she’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful. Too beautiful for her own good. Her father let her run the streets at night with an Amerikanos who got her pregnant. Two times. And where is he now? They never got married, she lost her virginity, and now she’s raising two babies alone. Drope tis. She should be ashamed to be out dancing at a nightclub.”
“How do you know all this, Mana?”
“Everyone knows, Constantino. People talk.”
“Her life isn’t over, Mana. Some things happened. I’m sure she’s trying to make the best of it,” Gus replied. Inwardly, Gus looked at the woman with new eyes, judgmental eyes, and felt ashamed of himself.
“She should go home and take care of her babies. Shame on her,” Mrs. Horiatis said.
“You know, Mana. If we didn’t look at her and judge her or gossip about her, she wouldn’t have to feel ashamed. She’d be just fine.”
“Why should she feel fine? She ruined herself, and for nothing.”
“But now she has two great kids. Something good came of it,” Gus defended Panayiota.
“Two kids with no father.”
“Well, what’s the difference between me and her?” Gus asked.
“What do you mean? Everything is different.”
“Well, I have a baby with an Amerikanitha. And I get the feeling that you wouldn’t mind if we broke up. Wouldn’t I be a disgrace then?”
“Of course not. You’re a man,” she replied. “For men it’s different. You can leave and no one faults you. They all wonder what the woman did wrong to lose her husband.” Mrs. Horiatis took a deep swig of champagne. “That Xeni can really dance, eh Constantino?” and she nudged him with her elbow.
Gus fell silent. He slugged back another drink of his ouzo. His gaze shifted back and forth from Callie and Xeni dancing together to the old man dancing with his daughter and suddenly felt weary.
“Mana? Why did you bring us here tonight?”
&n
bsp; “Oh, for a good time, Constantino.” Mrs. Horiatis smiled. “Why don’t you go dance?”
“What would it be like if Dad was here? Would he dance?” Gus asked.
“I don’t know about your father. Maybe he would dance if his blond bombshell was here with him. But he wouldn’t dance with me.” She sniffed and looked away from Gus’s inquiring look.
“I just wonder how things would’ve turned out if we stayed a family,” Gus admitted.
“Constantino. We don’t have what didn’t happen. We have what did happen. Just make the best of it.”
Gus looked at Callie again, her silver halter top shimmering under the lights, her arms weaving into the air. Then he looked again at the dark-haired woman dancing with her father, and a sudden chill shook him.
“What if. What if something happened, but we aren’t sure if we should stick it out, or if we should try something new?” Gus wondered if his father had pondered that same question.
“Constantino. If you are unhappy, try something new. Try something new tonight! Come on, let’s dance.” Mrs. Horiatis dragged Gus behind her, jostled onto the dance floor next to Xeni and Callie, and muttered to herself, “He didn’t tell me the Amerikanitha could dance!”
Shaken out of their cocoon, Callie and Xeni made room for Mrs. Horiatis and Gus beside them. Gus watched with amusement as his mother shook her large behind in time with the music, suddenly losing the limp and heavy gait of an old woman, and gaining the momentum of a young mountain goat. Gus rubbed his eyes and danced with his mother, who both embarrassed and delighted him with her spirited steps. She danced her way toward Callie, separating her from Xeni.
“Gus, why don’t you dance with Xeni?” she prodded.
“Mana, we’re all dancing together. Stop pushing me on Xeni. Let’s just have fun, okay?” Gus looked over his mother’s head toward the woman with the dark almond eyes and red lips, and the smell of cloves filled his nostrils. His eyes followed her every move, and for a moment his life vanished, and he imagined a new beginning. As if he’d found a shiny new penny.
• • •
She looked at Gus, her only child, her only son. She thought to herself, if they’d stayed in Greece, he’d be married to a good Greek girl by now. And like every other elderly Greek mother she would have a place in her son’s home where she’d be taken care of for the rest of her days. But they weren’t in Greece, merely a Greek nightclub in Ameriki festooned in blue and white.
Mrs. Horiatis could see that Gus’s attention was nowhere near Xeni. She realized that she had to face the awful truth: the love potion had worn off or had never worked in the first place. Or perhaps it was the magic of Callie’s hips bumping in time to the music, hypnotizing him. Mrs. Horiatis felt her chest deflate. She had been defeated before and had risen back up again to fight. But this time, she wondered if there was any point in continuing. Maybe, she decided, this girl was not the right one. Maybe there was someone better for her baby, her Constantino. There were so many beautiful young Greek girls back home. Surely she could find the right one. Or maybe she shouldn’t give up on Xeni too soon. In any case, Mrs. Horiatis accepted her defeat for the evening and comforted herself with dancing as she hadn’t in years. She danced until the nightclub owner bought their table a bottle of champagne, and the singer laced their names into the lyrics of her songs. She sang their praises and lifted them higher into the glad horizon of kefi, the state in which a Greek person loses their worries and surrenders to joy.
Now or Never
“Xeni, honey, why don’t you come and sit by me?” Mrs. Horiatis calls out to me as I pass by the kitchen table with an armful of Manny’s dirty laundry. “Sit down, sit down, honey,” she says smiling.
I hesitate for a moment, searching for an excuse to escape Mrs. Horiatis’s concentrated attention. “Well, I uh, have to put Manny’s laundry in the washing machine.”
“Xeni, honey. Are they paying you to do Manolaki’s laundry?”
“Well, no. But I like to help,” I reply uneasily, sniffing Manny’s soiled play clothes.
“Sit down. I need to talk to you,” Mrs. Horiatis gently commands. She looks right and left as if to see if either Callie or Gus are within earshot.
I drop the pile of laundry on one end of the table with a sigh, and sit down opposite Mrs. Horiatis and wait. The sun is blazing through the windows and onto the top of the table, casting a windowpane pattern on the wood. The cross hovers there as Mrs. Horiatis prepares to speak, and I concentrate on it with all my might. I have no idea what Mrs. Horiatis wants to talk about. Perhaps she disapproves of the way I had danced with Callie at Mythos that night or, even worse, can sense my ongoing struggle to resist the pull toward Callie, toward oblivion. Or maybe she wants to discuss the baptism. That would be a safe topic. Unless Mrs. Horiatis senses that I am impure, and therefore unfit to be a godmother. All of my guesses always come back to Callie and the attraction, which at times seems as strong as the ocean’s under-current pulling me under.
“Xeni, what are your plans?” Mrs. Horiatis asks.
I am shaken from my reverie and look up at the old woman, “What do you mean?”
“You are a beautiful young woman. You can cook and clean and keep a house.” As she continues, my heart begins to sink. It’s the classic conversation delivered to any Greek woman of a certain age. “I see you keeping this house as if it were your own. Can I ask you a question?”
I want to say no, but know it doesn’t matter what I want.
“Haven’t you ever thought about getting married?” Mrs. Horiatis reaches out and puts her hand on top of mine, her hand blasting through the cross of dark and light above the le.
“You know, Mrs. Horiatis, I don’t think that marriage is for me.” I offer a weak smile. Marriage has never been for me. And still, the question never stops.
“But why not, dear? Sometimes we think that until we meet the right person, and then everything changes.”
I eye Mrs. Horiatis’s hand on top of mine and wish that I could move out from under her. Perhaps I can fake a sneeze.
“You know, you can trust me, dear,” says the old woman as she squeezes my hand again. “I’ve been getting the idea that maybe you have a secret crush on someone?”
I jump, taking my hand from Mrs. Horiatis and looking for a way to escape the conversation. “No. No. I don’t have a crush on anyone. No. That’s silly.”
“Oh, don’t be ashamed, my dear. I lived in America a long time, and I’ve seen a lot of things. You can’t deny love when it comes, even if the situation might seem complicated.”
“But, Kyria Horiatis, I’m sorry. You must be mistaken.” I start to rise from the table.
“Sit down, Xeni. It is time to be honest.”
Something in the old woman’s voice makes me respond. I sit down heavily in my chair and am surprised to find myself welling up with tears of relief. Perhaps now I will not be alone in my secrets. But how can the old woman possibly understand my deepest desires, my unspoken and foolish desires.
“I can see that you have a deep longing inside your heart, young woman.”
I shake my downcast head, hiding my glistening eyes.
“I can help you.”
I wonder how Mrs. Horiatis can make my dreams come true. Only God can give me a virgin birth, and God certainly would disapprove of my pull toward Callie. How can Mrs. Horiatis understand, or help me with my longings?
Mrs. Horiatis clears her throat and smiles and takes my hand again, holding it and stroking it with both of her hands. “Now I know it seems complicated, but I think I can help you be with the one you want.” I look up expectantly. “If we work together.”
I can’t imagine how Mrs. Horiatis could make it all right with the Lord that Callie and I . . .
“I’m sure that Constantino feels the same way.”
I’m confused, “Constantino?”
“Yes, Constantino.” Mrs. Horiatis gives me a wide smile and pinches my cheek.
“Gus would
want to go along with it?”
“I think so. I think that he can see his future with the Amerikanitha is short. And Xeni, dear. Don’t you want a family of your own? A baby that cries out for you and calls you Mama and brings you endless joy for the rest of your days? There is nothing more sweet in life than having a baby.”
“Yes, Mrs. Horiatis. I want a baby more than anything,” and for once, I feel as if I can speak the truth. But I can hardly believe that I’m having this conversation with Mrs. Horiatis. It is as if Mrs. Horiatis can imagine a future for me when all I can see is dead ends.
“That settles it. Nothing would make me happier than to help you be happy.”
“But how can you help me?” I ask.
“Those two are hanging on by a thread. All they need is a little snip, snip and it is over. Then Constantino will be free and the Amerikanitha can do whatever she wants . . . and you can finally be with the one you love.”
“Mrs. Horiatis, how can you be so understanding? Aren’t you angry?”
“Why would I be angry, koritsi mou? My girl, nothing would make me happier than to have you as my daughter-in-law!”
“Your daughter-in-law?” I realize my mistake. Mrs. Horiatis doesn’t understand at all. No one understands. No one can understand my desires, my wishes. Not even God, it seems.
“Yes, sweetheart!”
I’m not sure how to tell Mrs. Horiatis that I don’t love Gus without admitting my feelings for Callie. I know I have to squash Mrs. Horiatis’s dreams on the spot, and for good. “Oh no, Mrs. Horiatis. I can never marry Gus. My parents wouldn’t allow it. I’m sorry, but they would never approve of me marrying someone who already has a family. They would never allow me to break up a family.”
“But it isn’t a real family!” Mrs. Horiatis exclaims, “It isn’t a real Greek family!”
I recoil. “What do you mean by that, Mrs. Horiatis?”
“Oh, you know I love Manolaki. He is my sunshine. But his mother isn’t good enough for Constantino.”
The Feasting Virgin Page 18