by Lucy Morton
“Why is life so complicated, Branson?”
“Because there comes a time when we realize that life is for real, Kate.”
She nods and much to my surprise, she puts her head on my shoulder.
“Do not think that I want to fuck with you. It is because I got a dizzy turn. The chef is the one who I want to fuck with. He is very hot.”
“Thank you for the compliment," I laugh.
“No, no, no offense. You're handsome and that, but you're not my type.”
“You are not even mine.”
“It does not surprise me," she says amusedly. “People are not meant to be alone, Branson. “
I did not say anything and after a while Kate falls asleep on my shoulder and she starts snoring. If she were another girl, I would surely lay her down on the beach and I would go with the receptionist to my Villa room. But I feel sorry for this woman and I decide to stay until I see the damn chef shows up. Kate is still snoring, without knowing what she was doing.
“What a pretty picture!" he says, with his thick, unbearable Greek accent. “Both of you are...”
“No, no. She is all yours.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
He bends down and he stands in front of Kate whispering her name to the ear to wake her up. For some strange reason, it bothers me. I want to be the one to take her safely to her room.
“Leave me alone, Branson..." Kate complained.
“No, it's Stefan.”
Kate opens her eyes wide and she looks around. That was fun!
“Where am I?” She asks confusedly.
“On the beach with this guy, but I'm already here. Here I am on time for our date.”
“All right..." Kate does not look very excited.
“Anyway, lovebirds," I say, standing up. “I'm out of here. Good luck!
“Branson!" Kate exclaims, still sitting in the sand next to the chef. “Thank you.”
I nod. I smile for the first time in a long time without forcing it, and I walk away to my room alone.
I watch a little TV. I read a book and finally I finish drinking a glass of whiskey.
My head is literally spinning with the terrible story of my life. Those I would not even tell in my worst nightmares.
I surf the channel while I am watching TV without my eyes actually a damn thing.
I decide to go to sleep thinking about the "American-drunk-bitter-crazy girl", and how much it bothers me that she has stayed on the beach with the cocky chef.
KATE
Day two
When Stuart walks away leaving me alone with Stefan, I strangely feel a sense of loneliness. I'm drunk. Just a little bit. I've slept (and sure I've snored... Shit, shit, shit), on Branson's shoulder. I called him Branson, because that's all I remember. I did not remember his name and I like it. It sounds like a detective movie and that's always cool.
I want to remember what he told me. I know it was something deep and that we have not discussed for the first time in the two days that I know him. Maybe he is not so bad. Maybe he's alone on the island for some kind of problem. Maybe he is bitter or sad and he is paying his frustration by arguing with the first crazy girl crossing his path.
Stefan looks at me with mischievous eyes. He bites his lower lip and he sits very close to me. I contemplate his five o’clock shadow, his thick, cut and jet-black hair, and his deep dark eyes Adonis’ lips hoping to bite mine and strong tanned hands hoping to caress my skin. Oh, God... Is that what I want?
“I'm very drunk", I say.
“But you know what are you doing, do not you?”
“Do not even think about it. Anyway, Stefan just tell me, how many clients of the hotel have you fucked?
My question makes a big impact on him.
“Are they so many so that you do not know what to answer?" I laugh about it.
“No, Kate. Really, I just...”
“I am sleepy.”
I get up. I slap on his back and I go for a walk alone. But when I am standing next to some big rocks, I cannot handle it anymore and I stop to rest. I fall asleep and I wake up with a horrible headache and soaked legs the next day because the sea water has raised more than I expected throughout the night.
Day three
I am an absolute mess, with the mascara running and an excessive, scarred redness of my lips, I moved away from the rocky side, by walking slowly to my Villa Dimitri room. I do not know what time it is, but the sun hits hard and there are a few swimmers enjoying the crystalline and tempting sea waters. Without thinking twice and under the watchful eyes of everyone, I plunge into the sea just as my mother brought me into the world. I threw all the clothes on the sand without fear that some smartass may take it and when I am getting out I have to run naked through the area. For the first time in a long time, I scream no matter what people say or think. The mothers cover their young children’s eyes. A group of young people are catcalling me from a distance. They are watching lustfully my naked body. An embarrassed Branson who seemed passing by right there, because he throwing himself in the pool was no longer his favorite leisure. Because he used to do it just for splashing me. However, he looks at me without believing what he has already seen it.
I laugh at the world and about myself. At the situation of my life and the years lost. From now on I will live for real. I'm going to control my own destiny. I will fuck whoever I want and if I'm lucky enough to feel butterflies flying around my stomach, even great. If not, I will be happy living in a Soho's shack with seven cats. Seven? Eight! Ten! Twenty! I do not give a fuck.
I get out of the water more relaxed than my yoga classes. I naturally take my hideous beige shorts and my striped shirt and I get dressed. I wink at Branson and when I try to walk away to my apartment, someone grab my arm.
“Hey, crazy American girl, have you seen yourself?” Branson asks me, who has run after me without I did not even notice.
“Branson, you should do it. You'll feel much better" I say, smiling.
“Do not call me Branson, I hate it.”
“What’s your name?”
Branson, whose previous nickname was the guy of the plane, laughs.
“I'm usually the one who does not remember names, Kate. My name is Stuart.”
“Stuart Branson. It sounds like a detective movie, you know?”
“I never thought about it.”
“Have you had coffee, Stuart?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want another one?”
“Okay.”
If when he was the one who had knocked on the plane's bathroom door, they would have told me Stuart was a charming guy, I would not have believed it.
Here we are, having a coffee on the terrace, watching the warm Greek waters and the blue sky of the island.
“I used to make TV ads", he told me. “And I also made an appearance on CSI. Well, they killed me the second I appear” I am laughing amusingly, by rolling my eyes.
“Wow! It should be mind-blowing, right?
“Do not even think about it. It does not look as good as it supposed to be, you know? We are puppets. That's all.”
“And why did not you make ads a year ago?" I always surf channels when ads are broadcast, so I have not seen you in any of them. Hey, do they recognize you on the street?
Stuart laughs and I realize that I've asked too many questions in a matter of seconds.
“Sometimes. I used to like it before. Let's say I'm not in the mood nowadays.
“And that's why you stopped making ads? Why are not you in the mood?”
“It's more complicated than that." He avoids looking at me and he lights up a cigarette.
“What happened to you, Stuart?" Why are you here? We all have a story. What is yours?” I ask, taking on a more serious note.
“A promise. But I do not want to tell you anything else. I refuse to tell you the story of my life.”
“Okay, no problem. What do you want to do today?” I ask, swallowing my desire to insist him to te
ll me "the story of his life”.
“Who is telling you that I want to do something with you?" here it comes an unpleasant note again.
“Boy! Just as we were getting on so nicely, Stuart..." I regret, amused and expectant to see what other juicy comments are going to come out of his mouth.
“You're right. After all that has happened to you, the last thing you need is an idiot at your side who elbows at you and be rude to you. I'm sorry I treated you like this.”
“It is water under the bridge, Stuart. How long are you here for?”
“I have no date of return.”
“Oh. That does not bode well.”
“Nothing good is waiting for me in New York.”
“Cannot I ask you something?
He denies it seriously.
“I was looking forward to know more about it, Branson.”
CHAPTER 7
STUART
The summer of your life
Week 1
What can I say about Kate? She is funny, crazy and a little weird, but we're having a good time. She will be back to New York next week and meanwhile, I do not know what I am going to do. I keep getting her WhatsApp messages. They keep bothering me, making me sad and in a bad mood.
“What the hell are you going to do, Stuart? Someday you'll have to come back”
I do not know, I do not know... Damn it! I do not know.
Kate and I have enjoyed the Villa pool. We have enjoyed the sun and we have drunk Ouzo and Metaxa, the two internationally renowned Greek drinks. Kate did not like it. She vomited all the spinach and the dry pasta her chef had prepared for her. She does not want to tell me what happened the night I left her alone with the chef, whose name I can never remember. She insists that nothing happened but I laugh at her.
“Spencer, I do not believe that you were so drunk, you would not fuck him," I said over and over again.
She was huffing, puffing and getting angry a little bit. Five minutes later, she changed the subject. She always surprised me and I like that. She always has something to talk about. She talks and she repeats things like a little parrot.
I do not remember the receptionist name, either, and it's been three times that she sneaked into my room and we fucked like animals. God, how the Greek girls really fuck! It's all about passion, a lioness in bed. Then she faces the fact that I do not want to sleep with her (or anyone else) and she leaves. Maybe she leaves my room to fuck another tourist. Maybe she goes to her be alone. The truth is that I do not give a fuck.
The day Kate and I were relaxing in the incredible hot springs of Therma Leftkada, I asked her about her chef again. I am always insisting, in case I catch her distracted and she runs her mouth.
“Let's see, Kate... Has there been anything or not?”
“Again?!” She asked very upset. “I've told you a thousand times I have not, Stuart. I do not know why you're so interested about it. I ask you, how many times have you made love to the receptionist? What was her name again?
“I do not know" I admitted, laughing. “And I have not made love; I've just fucked with her.”
“You guys are so disgusting.”
“Do not be a prude on me, Kate.”
“It is a lucky thing that you are not my type, because otherwise...”
“Otherwise, what?” I wanted to know just smiling.
“My grandmother always used to say: "When you feel butterflies flying around your stomach, you will have found the love of your life. Wow" she says thoughtfully, "you're the first person I tell what my grandmother used to tell me.
“Well, I'm sorry to break your grandmother's hypothesis, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes, those butterflies fly around your stomach over time. I do not believe in love at first sight, Kate. An attraction, yes indeed, but in love... in those butterflies you are talking about, no.”
She looked thoughtfully at the sunset and I knew that it was better to change the subject.
“Do you know that these waters are naturally radioactive?
“WHAT???!!!”
She screamed wildly, getting out of the water immediately and trying to get rid of every drop that had brushed her skin. I think I never laughed as much as I did with Kate. At least not for a year.
It was also fun to watch her walking awkwardly through the hilly interior of the island on a hiking trail we did on Saturday. Even more amusing, when she rolled down a hill and the tourist guide, with a thousand canteens in his pants, he was running after her.
Or the day she was convinced that there were sharks smelling their flesh, eager to devour her on the Yialiskari beach.
I also remember our visit to the fishing town of Armenistis. By the way, it was a beautiful, full of charm and historic town. Kate avoided at all costs the fishermen and their fishing rods. She dodged them with grace and dread in her eyes that it seemed she has seen a specter.
“Have you seen the movie "There’s something about Mary"? Yes, when the fisherman's hook sticks into Ben Stiller's cheek. Oh my God! That must be so painful! It's very dangerous, Stuart.
I laughed and then I asked her if she believed in God, since she was always saying, "Oh my God!" "Dear God!" And other expressions that reminded me my, grandmother Agatha.
I can see the perfect moment to confess her something to what my head has been spinning through my head all day. Now she is seating in front of me, at the table in the restaurant of Villa Dimitri next to the large window overlooking the sea. Her fair complexion more tanned since she is on the Island, lights up her face and her eyes highlighting her golden blond hair.
“Okay?” I begin to smile.
But of course... the presence of the chef interrupts what I am saying. I look at him in annoyance and I stare at Kate who looks delighted.
“I'm going to prepare you a very special dish today," the arrogant chef says with a vicious, disgustingly hot and provocative look.
I look up at his bulky packet. He is really hard by looking at Kate's generous cleavage tonight.
“Really?”
Kate flirts, forgetting my presence completely. I just look out the window and I ignore all the nonsenses they are talking about. I know that when the chef finishes working, he will go to see her to her room. And I curse many times I have told Kate:
“Enjoy the moment, Kate. Do you want to fuck him? Of course you do, you want to fuck the chef. You told me the first night we went to the beach together. Even though you were so drunk you do not even remember him. Oh! And you did not say to "make love”.
Kate got red as a tomato. She has just shrugged and she sends some messages by WhatsApps to her group of New York friends.
“If they're all as crazy as you are...” I murmur.
Then she began to talk proudly with the bad-tempered Lucy, the sweet Betty, the straight shooter Charlotte and the mysterious Pam and I liked to know that there are people who, despite being more than thirties years, she keeps her friends forever . I did not know how to do it and I think, because of the absence of messages and calls, that the few friends that I had left have, they tired of waiting.
KATE
The summer of your life
Week 1
Stuart is annoying, persistent, self-righteous and arrogant, but he has a sense of humor. He is the perfect friend to go out drinking and talking about anything with him. Not about intense stuff, but rather superficial.
I know that my clumsiness amuses him and he takes advantage of every moment to annoy me. He ignores my warnings: the danger of fishing rods and plenty of sharks that I think there are on every Greek beach. I have also refused to do more trekking routes. I am more mainland girl, like I have told him. He’s just laughed about it, remembering surely the heavy fall I had down a hill. I only remember the tour guide's cheeks moving in slow motion while he was running toward me with a bunch of canteens. I also remember my arm got hit with an unappropriated rock that it was not supposed to be there, because I still have an ugly bruise.
And despite all and every o
ne of the moments lived; there is something I am keeping to myself: the butterflies have begun to fly around my stomach whenever I am with him. And I do not care if we fight as if we were two brothers. I do not care if he bothers me as the five-year-old boys do who are in a crush of blonde girl with two ponytails in her hair. I just don’t care. The butterflies are there, always being persistent and they are very beautiful deep down.
Stuart wanted to say something to me at dinner, when Stefan approached the table untimely and he told me that today he had something prepared for me. Oh my God! HIs pants were about to explode! What a great, Greek chef package he got there! I've seen Stuart looking at him and I hope his male pride has not gone down.”
“Do you know what I really want, Stuart? A pizza. A Mc Donald's burger. That's what I feel like to eat.”
“What a funny girl!" He laughed. “I hope your chef may not listen to you...”
I cannot even remember what time it is in New York. Here it is eleven o'clock at night and I am sitting on the balcony of my Villa room drinking a glass of wine and smoking a cigarette.
I read a WhatsApp from Stuart asking me if the chef has already come to my room. I tell him he hasn’t, I'm waiting for him and to keep his mouth shut. Someone knocks on my room door at eleven past ten. I open and there he is, the Adonis is standing before me. The Greek God with his big package spliced under his white linen pants that are creeping me out as much as my beige shorts that I have decided to throw away.
“Have you thought it over?" he asks me.
And while I am kissing him passionately, I cannot stop thinking about Stuart's lips. In how fleshy and experienced they should be. About how much I'd like to kiss them. Stefan is wild. He is fucking me too quickly, thinking more of his own pleasure than mine. He ends up really overjoyed five minutes later. His tight body is sweaty and I would like to remember what an orgasm is.
“That was amazing, pretty American girl," he says, exhaling the smoke from a cigarette that he has just light up.