by Lucy Morton
I tell the waitress that I want to have dinner what Stefan has to recommend me. Stefan looks at me smiling from the kitchen and he nods proudly. Moments later, they serve me a dish with a name I could not repeat correctly twice in a row: Spanakotiropites, which it is basically feta cheese and spinach dumplings. When I finish, the waitress brings me another plate and although I say with a tired gesture touching my swollen belly, which I cannot eat anymore, she insists that I should try it. Spanokopita: spinach wrapped in paste. Oh God! I will burst at any moment.
“Everything was delicious" I say to the chef, by approaching to the gap between the kitchen and the restaurant.
The guy of the plane rolls his eyes and he snorts loudly from his badly positioned table.
“Do you have plans tonight?" the chef asks.
“I was thinking going for a walk on the beach.”
“Wait for me there.”
That sounded like a date. It has sounded like: "Wait for me there that you will know what a Greek man has between his legs." That's what Lucy would have said, laughing at her own idea. I smile her without any hope and I go to the beach. My eyes are flushing with anger while I am watching a gay couple aving a good time in the sand.
STUART
The Dinner
What a piece of shit! These Greeks do not know how to eat and their cheeses suck. I hate the spinach wrapped in dry pasta prepared by a proud chef that I see from the slit making for the kitchen. I have the worst table in the restaurant and I have to see how the bitter blonde is having a good time through the window next to the beach. I am distracted with my Smartphone looking at the photos uploaded on Instagram by some of my colleagues who call themselves actors just for having made four TV ads. Hands intertwined, hamburgers, healthy salads, eyes of their couples, bare feet on the sand, and kisses on the seashore... Whoa! I want to throw up.
The bitter blonde flirts with the chef. I still have not fucked with any Greek girl or clueless tourist. Everyone here is all spellbound couples and I fear that there is anyone of them who is able to be cheat on their just newly and protective hubby. Not yet.
I decide to embitter the walk by the sea to the blonde blushed by the tears and I look for her by the beach. It is already dark and the moon is huge, the largest I have ever seen in my life. The reflection on the sea is beautiful and I laugh at myself by getting a little puffy and thinking... What should I do?
After two minutes, I can see the blonde shouting to two gays who apparently were having a good time in the sand. One of them is bearded and rather ugly, looking at her with eyes bulging out of what I can see in the dark. The other, more attractive, looks confused not knowing what to do or what to say. I come a little closer to hear what the crazy American girl is telling them.
“How could you, Martin! How could you come here! With him!” She is screaming like a crazy girl, spoiling the moment to other couples who wanted to have reckless sex in the beach under the reflection of the moon and the sea breeze.
“How should I know you were coming, Kate?" "At last, I know the name of the bitter blonde." If you cannot even eat in a restaurant by yourself!
“Asshole! You bastards!” she keeps shouting angrily.
I think about getting closer and embittering her evens more. But I pull a lock off my forehead and I walk past them, by looking at them sideways and shrugging.
“And what are you looking at, guy of the plane?”
This Kate engages me into the discussion without asking me.
“Hey! I was just passing by.”
“Were you just passing by? What a stupid idiot!”
Kate, the bitter blonde, walks away from us and I am standing just right there, still, watching her slender figure moving away and heading toward the Villa. The two men, still pitied by what just happened, are talking about the possibility of running away from there. Escaping to Mykonos Island where the party and the alcohol are secured and they do not to have to face again the bitter madwoman who has spoiled the night to them.
I get a message. The hotel's Wifi is powerful and I'm surprised I have a signal on the beach.
“Stuart. What are you going to do?”
I read the message over and over, and now I am the one who is crying under the watchful eyes of two gays, not knowing that there were still tears in my eyes.
CHAPTER 6
KATE
Day two
“It cannot be possible!” Lucy writes in the WhatsApp group, with an emoji similar to those of Macauly Culkin's face in the movie "Home Alone”.
Then my friends write countless insults to Martin and Freddy, by wondering how they have a lot of nerve and the courage to show up on the Island and in the same Villa in which the one, who had to be my husband, should be with me.
I wonder the same thing. I have not been able to sleep all night and the heated discussion that we had, has my nerves knackered. Well, I was the one, talking and shouting; cursing and insulting them so badly. To top it off, the guy of the plane passed by and I'm convinced he enjoyed the moment. I did not have the date with the Greek chef and I went straight back to my room. I smoked hundreds of cigarettes and I poured myself a thousand glasses of wine. The result: I have a hangover today. My head hurts and I have my lungs stuck.
I leave my apartment wearing a pink fluorescent bikini like Lucy’s dildo and a black sarong, still a little scared in case I find Martin and Freddy having a good time in any corner. I think about leaving here, but it would mean that Martin has won the battle and that is something that I will not allow to. "Be proud, have your head up and pain is only for funerals." That was what my grandmother always used to say.
I am heading to the Villa’s pool, which it is surprisingly empty. I imagine that the couples have preferred to go to the beach or to visit any place on the island. I do not want to walk alone in the streets of the island, one of the most isolated of the Aegean Sea, named after Icarus, the hero of Greek mythology, son of Daedalus, who escaped from the Cretan Labyrinth by flying with wings of wax. These wings were melted as they were coming closer to the sun. The young man fell to the sea drowning and this sea was named in his honor, Icarus Sea. The mountainous reliefs, its torrents and the serene atmosphere of the Island, cover its cities. Its isolation has helped to preserve ancient customs and a pure Greek spirit, hardly altered by tourism and the modernity to which tourists like me are used to.
The story of the unfortunate Icarus is in my head while I am swimming quietly in the pool. It makes me think that life could be worse. I could be dead. I may drown in the sea and I may suffer a slow and painful death. I could be crying at a funeral, but I find myself crying under the water of Villa Dimitri's pool.
“What a surprise we got here, if she the bitter American girl!" An annoyed male voice exclaims.
I leave the depths of the water, to face the bastard guy of the plane, whose only purpose seems to be to make miserable my two weeks in Greece.
“Do not you have anything else to do but to come and bother me?
I leave the pool and I go to a deck chair. I see the chef Stefan approaching me and he frees me from an uncomfortable situation with the guy of the plane.
“What a gorgeous American girl!" Stefan exclaims.
The guy of the plane laughs and he throws himself into the pool, splashing me and leaving Stefan all soaked.
“I went to the beach yesterday", the Greek chef continues, ignoring the bad manners of the American. "I did not see you. Why did not you wait for me, Kate?”
—Oh... I was tired, Stefan.”
“Tonight" he says intensely. “When I finish my shift, wait for me.
He winks at me and he walks away. I take my cell phone and I send a message to my friends on WhatsApp. They must be about to finish their workdays.
“The Greek Adonis has told me, that tonight when he finishes his shift, he wants to go for a walk on the beach" I write, typing in the gaps of the message with intense red hearts.
I enjoy the sun, completely ignoring the guy of the
plane, who continues diving under the water of the pool. I hope he drowns like the unfortunate Icarus. When he gets out, I open an eye to see his sculptural body. The rays of the sun dazzle his fair complexion and I glimpse some very 6-pack hot in his belly. His strong arms picks up quickly the towel and he dries his hair. His brown eyes have taken on a greenish tone that I had not noticed.
“What are you looking at?” He asks with a mischievous smile.
“The roses in the garden", I say quietly.
“Okay... Why were you crying on the plane?”
His question surprises me. His sudden interest in me, leaving me out of place.
“As a matter of fact. Why were you yelling at those guys yesterday?”
“I am not going to tell you my life.”
“Whatever, I do not give a fuck.”
He throws himself again and leaves me all soaked. I swear between my teeth and I answer the many obscene questions from my friends in the WhatsApp group.
STUART
Day two
I am naturally curious, so I would have liked the bitter American girl have answered my questions. Well, I do not give a fuck, anyway. But I get bored. I'm about to go to Mykonos with the two gays with whom she discussed last night.
The truth is that today, in the pool, I have seen her sexually attractive. Her body, with little extra pounds than I prefer, is desirable and her skin seems soft and velvety. Her wet blonde hair shines with the rays of the sun and her penetrating blue eyes seem almost transparent. She has funny freckles on her discreet, upturned nose and not operated fleshy lips, which remind me of the cherries I ate when I was out in the country with my parents, my uncles and my cousins.
While I am stretching out on a deck chair her, she takes off her sunglasses and she looks at me brazenly.
“Why the hell are you sitting here?" She asks me. “Are there no more deck chairs?
I laugh and I ignore her question.
“No, really. Who are you? Are you going to make me my vacations miserable?”
“This is supposed to be your honeymoon, right?" The guy of yesterday, who you were screaming at the beach, was your boyfriend? Have you find him that he was cheating on you with another man?
She opens her eyes wide and she did not say a thing. By the grimace that she is making with her pineapple mouth, I think that she is going to start crying like in the little bathroom of the airplane at any moment. No, please... not here, not in front of me.
—I'm Stuart Branson. And I will try to change the subject so you do not feel bitter more than you already are.
I mention it with sincerity and good vibes. But this Kate does not seem to take it like that and outraged, she picks up her things and she disappears from my sight. "The first time I try to be a nice person...” I say, getting up and throwing myself into the pool again.
In the afternoon, I went to flatter the receptionist so I may have a better table in the restaurant at night and not putting up with the plague of the kitchen from the table in the front. I ask her about the most interesting places to visit and besides giving me a map of the island. She begins telling me what she likes the most.
She starts with a plenty of hiking trails and mountainous hinterland, despite the small size of the island. She says that the best beaches in Ikaria are Livadi and Mesakti. She speaks about Ayios Kyrikos, which it is the capital of the island and the main port. She says that it is necessary to visit its church and a small archeological and folkloric museum. She points out that there is one of the island's great attractions: Therma Lefkada at about one mile. It is a great thermal spa, whose spring water rises between 89.6 and about 132.8ºF, and they are very useful for rheumatic diseases because of being naturally radioactive and some springs are closed for that reason. Nearby, you will find the ruins of the old acropolis.
The Edvilos neoclassical houses, the former capital of the island in the past and today is its second port. They are also an interesting place to walk, she says. She mentions to me there is a taxi-boat service between Ayios Kyrikos, Therma and Fanari beach in the summer and that some villages like Mayrato are very picturesque and their vegetation is dense.
There are also places like Oxea Mileopos, Kampos and its archaeological museum that I should know. She speaks very well of the small island of Diaspori and the Church of the Assumption is very close.
And I have already got lost with such a strange name, when she mentions Oinomageireio tis Popis, in Evdilos, a nice tavern where I can taste the authentic soufiko, which is an island dish. When I ask her where the best place to hang out is, she answers me with a mischievous smile: Magganitis, which is the most western town and she proposes me to go with her tonight.
That night, the receptionist let me sitting at a nice table by the large window overlooking the beach and I just order a Greek salad so I do not have to suffer the stinking taste of the spinach in each dish or the dry pasta prepared by the "Famous" chef who without knowing why, I have taken a dislike to. The receptionist winks at me and she reminds me that when she finishes her shift, she is going to take me to Magganitis. She says that it is half an hour from the place and that we will have fun. Contouring her hips for provoking me, knowing that his butt is the unique and indisputable protagonist of my look.
“I have fallen asleep.”
“What?" I ask carefully, the bitter American, when she sits at my table.
“What are you doing?” I ask this time out loud to see that she has not interpreted my intense gaze with a frowning included.
“Kate, Kate Spencer. Actually, I would have to be Mrs. Logan, and yes, this would have to be my honeymoon." She sighs and laughs. “The man I was yelling at yesterday was the one who left me standing on the altar and the ugly bearded man who was with him, his current stable lover and partner. Are you happy? Waitress, a glass of wine, here!”
“Kate. You're a little drunk, are not you?”
I am the one who is laughing now.
“Drunk? Me? For two glasses of wine? No, no. And tell me... what was your name?”
I do not know if I must be rude as always or a formal and nice guy as I used to be. I do not know if the situation amuses me or bothers me. I can only look at those big blue eyes hanging from my salad, with mascara running and lips overly painted red. She is wearing a horrible beige shorts and a navy striped t-shirt, very different from the flowery, sheer dress she wore last night.
“Stuart Branson. Seriously, what have you taken?”
“Can I have your salad?”
“No! Ask for one.”
“Waitress!”
The waitress, without winking at me as before and more serious than usual, walks resignedly to our table.
“I want a salad like this. The shit you gave me yesterday was trashy.”
I laugh again. The chef looks at her from the hole in the bar and he shakes his head disappointed.
“Please, do not yell so much..." I murmur embarrassed.
“Come on, Branson! For the love of God! Life is short!” She takes a sip of her glass of wine. “I've been out of work for six months. I used to be an editor, you know? From a fucking magazine for teens. Yes, you know those in which we say the ten infallible tricks to seduce a boy or home remedies to end the blissful cellulite. And my five-year-old Beyoncé leaves me standing on the altar in front of 200 guests a few days ago because he's gay and he has a secret relationship with Freddy, his ugly bearded friend. Shit! How could I not see it? The night I met him, I was with him sitting at the bar and still, that night ... he fucked me! He fucked me, Branson!”
“Miss..." the waitress says, approaching us, with an out of place look. “Please, I have to ask you to stop shouting or I will be forced to...”
“I'm leaving!" Fuck off!”
Kate gets up, dodging awkwardly falling on the couple at the next table and she leaves the restaurant.
The waitress looks at me uncomfortably, I shrug and I follow the bitter and drunk American girl, who has added one more word: Crazy.
&n
bsp; “We'll have to leave our party for another day," I tell the receptionist/ waitress.
“Do you know what my name is?” She asks, frowning.
“Have you ever told me?" I ask amusingly.
The waitress is laughing. The chef continues to keep an eye on Kate and without knowing why, I go after the "American-drunk-bitter-crazy girl", who has already come outside.
“Where are we going, Kate?" I ask, grabbing her by the waist so she does not fall on a small lake with colored fish at the entrance of the Villa.
“To the end of the world and beyond!” She exclaims, pointing to heaven.
“Ok, we'll settle for going for a walk to the beach. Or sitting in the sand, okay? It will be the best.”
Kate barely stands and when we get to the beach, she decides that it will be best to take off her shoes and to sit by the sea as expect. I imitate her and we look quietly at the stars.
“You do not see a sky like this in New York" I reckon thoughtfully, more to myself than to her.
“Please, do not get too deep or sappy. I'd rather argue with you as at the beginning, before you recite a poem for me.
She does not let go her glass of wine. She sips one more time and she throws the glass with all his strength to the sea.
“I see you care a lot about recycling stuff," I laugh.
“This sucks, you know? I have not left my apartment all day and when I've done it, I've looked for Martin the place over like an idiot. Hoping to see him, talking to him... talking sense into him, you know? As if I could change his mind that he is not in love with Freddy, the ugly guy. Making him see that she likes women. Oh, God... I'm worse than those people who say that homosexuality is a disease and it can be cured. They are all a bunch of jerks.”
“I would not disagree with that. And I'd like to apologize for being such a rude with you. Now that you're drunk and that you will not remember anything about this conversation tomorrow, I want to tell you that I used to be a nice guy before. People used to appreciate me and they trusted me. I had friends, a job I liked and I was doing well.