The House by the River

by Lena Manta

  “I don’t know if you’re telling me the truth or what I want to hear. But I’m warning you, and you’d better take my words seriously. If you don’t do something to disentangle from my son, I won’t hesitate to tell your husband everything, and I won’t stop there. I’ll tell it to everyone in our circle, to the whole of Athens! You won’t have a friend in this town! In the end I’ll even make you go back to where you came from! Do you understand what I’ll telling you?”

  “I understand—except that I don’t know how to do it.”

  “In a way that takes away all hope. I want a complete end to this relationship.”

  “Angelos loves me and he knows how much I love him. He’s told me a thousand times that he doesn’t want to live without me. To drive him away, I’ll first have to persuade him that I’ve either stopped loving him, or that I’ve been deceiving him all this time. Which of the two do you prefer?”

  “What I prefer is for you to disappear and for him not to care about you. He’s young; the women line up for him. In a month from now he’ll have found someone else and will have forgotten about you, you can be sure of that.”

  Melissanthi remembered every word of her conversation with Mrs. Flerianos. And she wondered if his mother would ever forgive herself for so readily having condemned her son to death. Angelos Flerianos didn’t exist anymore. Melissanthi had immediately honored the woman’s wishes and broken up with him. Exactly one month later, he ended his life with a bullet to the head. He had wept, he had begged Melissanthi on his knees, he had cursed her, he had hit her, and he had almost raped her. But Melissanthi was adamant. She didn’t love him anymore, she told him. Everything was over. She repeated it to him again and again like a recording, until Angelos couldn’t bear it any longer and put an end to his hopelessness in the only way he could.

  He left a short note saying that his death was a suicide, and a letter to his mother explaining that his life had lost any meaning because he couldn’t be with the only woman he had ever loved. He begged her to carry his secret love for Melissanthi to the grave and not to bother his former lover at all, not even to approach her. In any case his secret would remain just that. His mother would take it with her as madness wrapped itself around her brain. She was the only one responsible. She had placed the gun in her son’s hand by asking Melissanthi to drive him to despair. At the funeral of her only beloved son, Mrs. Flerianos laughed constantly and asked her husband why they weren’t playing music for Angelos to dance.

  Melissanthi learned of Angelos’s death the evening it happened. She was playing cards with Apostolos when Nitsa telephoned. As soon as she heard who it was, Melissanthi was irritated, and made up her mind to firmly tell her friend that these health issues she enumerated every time they spoke required the help of a psychiatrist, not a doctor. But that wasn’t why Nitsa had called. In tears, she told Melissanthi the terrible news about Angelos. A few moments later, Apostolos saw his wife collapse on the carpet, the telephone left swinging like a pendulum. He also heard Nitsa repeating the awful thing that had happened. He knelt down and whispered some comforting phrase to Melissanthi, who’d turned deathly pale, and tried to bring her around. As soon as his wife was conscious she burst out in a loud wailing. Without saying a word, Apostolos embraced her tenderly and let her express her pain. With sure movements he accompanied her to her room, gave her a tranquilizer, and waited until she slept. For the first time in a long while he didn’t sleep in his room but lay beside her to take care of her. In the morning he persuaded her to drink a cup of tea in which he’d dissolved another tranquilizer. With his care, Melissanthi spent those first difficult hours in a soft haze. He never left her side except to attend the funeral, confessing that leaving her was the most difficult thing he’d had to do in his life.

  That same afternoon, Melissanthi refused to drink Apostolos’s tea.

  “No, Apostolos,” she said decisively. “I know you put a tranquilizer in that cup, but sleep isn’t a solution. Besides, I think I owe you an explanation.”

  “I don’t want to hear anything, Melissanthi, and I mean it!”

  “But I—”

  She tried to object, but Apostolos stopped her. “You’re a very sensitive soul, and it’s understandable for you not to be able to bear the unjust death of a young man who was so good-looking and capable of many creative things. I understand you, my dear and . . . since you’ve recovered, I’ll leave you in peace.”

  “No!” shouted Melissanthi in despair. “Don’t leave me alone, Apostolos! I’ll go mad! Please stay with me tonight.”

  Apostolos had already risen to his feet. He looked at his wife’s pleading eyes, sat down again beside her on the bed, and put his arm around her shoulders. Melissanthi leaned her head on his chest and let her tears flow freely while her husband tenderly stroked her hair and gently wiped her wet cheek. She hugged him tightly and went to sleep curled up like a baby, letting out small groans of pain, while beside her, he counted her breaths all night long.

  The next day, before it was quite light, Melissanthi got up without waking her husband, dressed, and left. A little while later she stood in front of Angelos’s grave and stared as if hypnotized at the freshly turned earth with hundreds of wreaths on it. Her mind couldn’t contain the unjust loss. She felt as if she were living a nightmare that would soon end and she would find herself again in his arms. They’d laugh as they used to; they’d watch the sunset at Lagonisi together.

  She went back home, destroyed. Apostolos was drinking his coffee and she wondered why he was still at home.

  “Didn’t you go to your office?” she asked dully.

  “I didn’t want to leave you alone yet,” he answered. “What do you think of the two of us going for a drive?”

  “Where will we go?”

  “Maybe we can go to the sea and walk for a little, and then, if you feel like it, we can eat at some restaurant. What do you say? Would it cheer you up to do something like that?”

  She didn’t answer him, but he took the initiative and got them both settled in the car. He didn’t ask her where she had gone before dawn or make any indiscreet allusion. As they sped along the highway, Melissanthi stole a look at her husband and wondered how much he knew about her relationship with Angelos. Her instinct told her that he must know a lot, if not everything, but her conscious mind rejected it. What husband would accept the infidelity of his wife and stand like a real friend beside her in such a situation? On the other hand, Apostolos had never been stupid or naive in his life; it was impossible for him not to have understood what was going on. Melissanthi looked at him again and Apostolos, as if he sensed it, turned to meet her gaze. He smiled tenderly and squeezed her hand, then returned his attention to the road.

  At the beach, Melissanthi showed no desire to talk, so Apostolos walked silently beside her and just held her hand tightly. Later, they sat at a restaurant, where he persuaded her to eat. It was the only thing he insisted on, and he watched her take every bite until he was satisfied by the amount she had eaten. His behavior brought tears to her eyes. She wanted to speak to him, wanted to ask him to forgive her for everything that had taken place behind his back, but when she tried, Apostolos cut her off tenderly but firmly. Again, he attributed her melancholy to her sensitive spirit. Melissanthi was at a complete loss. Her husband was acting like an ostrich that buries its head in the sand, and this behavior didn’t suit him at all. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

  A month after Angelos’s death, Melissanthi realized that something was wrong with her body. So she went to see the doctor. The smile on his face when he announced that she was expecting a baby seemed to her to be in poor taste. The woman had no doubt that it was Angelos’s baby. But the doctor, who knew the family well, believed that Apostolos Fatouras was finally going to have an heir.

  Melissanthi returned to the house in a daze, while unbearable thoughts whirled in her head. She lay down on her bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling in an effort to go beyond it, to reach higher, to tou
ch God and ask him what sort of joke this was. She didn’t expect an answer, naturally, but her guilt gave her a probable one: all this was her punishment, and now she had to find a solution right away. To get rid of the child was something she didn’t even want to think about. It was Angelos’s child, the fruit of a great love, and since he was gone, it was the only thing of his she had left. But then there was Apostolos to consider. After so many years of marriage without having conceived by him, how could she burden him with another man’s child?

  For the first time in a long while, she felt the desire to leave. Her village, which had once suffocated her, now seemed like the perfect refuge for her and her baby. Its forests and steep slopes seemed like a harbor in the storm of her soul, the house by the river a shelter for her ruined life, and her mother’s embrace her protection from harm.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Apostolos hurried into the room, his face distorted by tension. She immediately jumped out of bed.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a choked voice.

  “I’m fine. Why?” Melissanthi wondered.

  Apostolos allowed his body to fall heavily on the edge of the bed, and Melissanthi sat down beside him.

  “What’s the matter with you? Why are you like this?” she asked him anxiously.

  “I ran into Kostas—your doctor. He mentioned that you’d been to see him but he didn’t tell me what happened! Are you all right?”

  She was trapped. Her husband was looking at her anxiously, and there was no way out. The truth demanded to come to the surface, like a giant iceberg that had somehow been pushed to the bottom of a dark sea. Obedient to its own dynamic, it was determined to rise.

  “Melissanthi, why won’t you speak to me?” Apostolos asked. “Is something going on with your health?”

  “I’d like to say no,” Melissanthi began, taking a deep breath. “But it would be a lie. For some time I’ve had some abnormalities, and Kostas told me . . .” She stopped again. She had never felt she was strong, and telling the truth at this moment demanded a tremendous effort from her.

  “Melissanthi, don’t torture me! Whatever is happening, I want to know. Basically, if it’s something serious, we’re leaving tomorrow for abroad.”

  “It’s not necessary for us to leave. At least not together. If you decide that you don’t want me near you, I’m prepared to leave and you won’t ever have to see me again.”

  “What nonsense are you telling me now?”

  “Apostolos, I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her gaze was fixed on the floor. It was impossible to look him in the eye.

  A heavy, threatening silence fell on the room, so complete you could have heard the flight of a butterfly. Melissanthi was holding her breath, and she knew Apostolos was probably doing the same. A second later he exhaled loudly, and Melissanthi shivered. She didn’t expect to feel his arms embrace her. And the happy tone of his voice was completely unexpected.

  “My darling,” Apostolos said, smiling now. “Why didn’t you come running to tell me right away, instead of shutting yourself up in the house? Why did you frighten me like that, naughty girl?”

  Unable to believe what she was hearing, Melissanthi dared to look at him. His lips were smiling and his eyes were shining. She looked deep into them for some sign, something that would reveal that Apostolos was passing judgment, something that would show his real feelings, perhaps his anger, but she only found joy, true joy.

  “Apostolos, did you understand what I just said to you?” She wanted to be sure. “I’m pregnant!”

  “Of course I understood it! Why do you act as if this is something bad? And what nonsense were you telling me before, that I wouldn’t want you near me, that you’ll leave? Why wouldn’t I want you? For so many years we didn’t have a child and now that God has decided to give us one, you behave as if some disaster has struck.”

  “Apostolos, things aren’t so simple . . .”

  “A child is never simple, I understand that, but it’s also a great joy.”

  Melissanthi looked at him again. This was not her husband. He suddenly seemed naive.

  “Apostolos, I don’t understand why you’re choosing to be blind, even though I’m grateful to you for your attitude all this time. You’ve behaved so tactfully, with enormous understanding, even if I didn’t deserve it. But you know that the child . . .”

  He cut her off quickly. “The child is what we’ve waited for all these years,” he said. The tone of his voice made it clear he had made up his mind and would allow no going back. “It’s your child and mine!”

  The way he stressed this last phrase confirmed for Melissanthi that her husband in fact knew: the child was not his. It also plunged her into a deeper sense of amazement, that he could accept another man’s child as his own.

  “Apostolos, listen to me,” she said.

  But his look stopped her. “Melissanthi,” he said, raising his voice. “This is the last time I’ll say this to you. Don’t make me repeat it. Nothing has changed in our marriage since the day we first wed. You’re pregnant and the child will have my name. Have I made myself understood?” He waited for her to nod her head in agreement before he continued. “I want you to take good care of yourself, leave the past there where it belongs—that is, behind you—and behave like a happy expectant mother! Tomorrow I want you to choose a gynecologist who’ll take care of you, and start preparing a room for the child. Spend a fortune!”

  Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Apostolos reached out his hand and tenderly wiped them away with the tips of his fingers. “Those are the last tears I’ll permit you,” he said softly. “Our child deserves the best, and the best is two parents to look after him with love. He’ll bring so much joy into this house. Let’s express ourselves with smiles and not with tears . . . OK?”

  Melissanthi hid herself in his arms, sobbing loudly. That moment, deep inside her, a strange fear was born. With the help of Apostolos, she had cheated her fate. So what punishment awaited her now? She had deceived innocent people. So now was she deceiving herself too by accepting a protection she didn’t deserve?

  Melissanthi’s son was born on time. Apostolos spent agonizing moments before they announced the happy news to him, and he was grateful to his friend Christos who stayed at his side. Sitting together in the waiting room, Apostolos clenched and unclenched his hands.

  “Calm down!” Christos scolded him. “Melissanthi is young and strong; everything will be over before you know it.”

  “I hope so! I’m so worried about her . . .”

  “It’s because it’s your first. I was like that with my first child and I’m ashamed to say it, but when Nitsa announced her second pregnancy, the only thing I thought about, coward that I am, was the nightmarish hours of waiting.”

  “I’m too old for this!” Apostolos said to himself.

  “Come on now. It’s true you took a while. You told me that because of your health problems you avoided . . . you know. And then, Apostolos, I have to confess, I was a little bit afraid . . .”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Ah, well, Melissanthi’s a young woman and she disappeared for a while at Lagonisi. You know how people are, and I don’t leave out myself.”

  “Did you imagine that Melissanthi had found someone else?” Apostolos asked, smiling bitterly.

  “Hey, what can I say? It crossed my mind. Do you remember that poor Angelos? Something was said about him and your wife. Don’t worry! Just nasty talk.”

  “Nothing nasty, Christos . . .”

  “What do you mean?” Christos’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “That it was true. Angelos and Melissanthi were a couple for a long time—from when they first met at that Carnival dance. They fell in love—they were both young and beautiful.”

  “Apostolos, you’re talking nonsense. The waiting has upset you more than I realized!”

  “I know very well what I’m saying, my friend. I was never stupid. I knew my wife—I knew her very well. I unders
tood from the very beginning what was going on.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?”

  “As a husband, I was practically washed up. I couldn’t offer her anything except money and that wasn’t enough.”

  “It was enough when she married you!”

  Christos’s judgmental tone made Apostolos turn sharply toward him. “You forget that when I married her, I was all fire and strength! I have no illusions, Christos. Melissanthi married me for my money and because I could offer her a life far away from her village, but later I offered her other things that were extremely important for her. Angelos came into her life suddenly, and their attraction was too strong for me to push him away and for her to pass him up. I also know that since Melissanthi is not unethical, she never thought of leaving me and making me look like a fool to my circle of friends. She behaved tactfully. It’s true they separated for a while, at her initiative, in an effort to put things in their place. She left for Paris, miserable, and Angelos, in an even worse condition, followed her. In fact he came to find me. He ran into me, supposedly by chance, but his purpose was to find out where Melissanthi was.”

  “And you told him?’

  “Actually I sent him straight to her, but in such a way that he didn’t realize that I knew, and neither did my wife.”

  “What can I say?”

  “Whatever you say, it doesn’t matter anymore. I love her, I wanted her to be happy, and I did everything because of that. Unfortunately Angelos’s mother found out; I don’t know how.”

  “How did you find all this out?”

  “His father, as you know, was a former legal advisor of mine. After the disaster struck them, his wife went mad.”

  “I heard that. She wasn’t herself at the funeral.”

  “Flerianos told me that his wife couldn’t tolerate a relationship her son was having and begged the girl to break it off . . . Angelos couldn’t bear it and killed himself.”

  “And he told you all this without knowing that he was talking about your wife?”