by Lena Manta
Julia heard what was going on as if she were hypnotized, but at the mention of the children she recovered. She approached the two of them. She spat in Tayaris’s face before turning to her husband. “You have to leave, Fokas. This scumbag is right. Hide somewhere until things calm down and then we’ll see. I’ll find you a lawyer, although I think it’s better to leave the country.”
“Julia, have you gone crazy? Why would you think that I’d run away as if I was guilty?”
“But for them you are the guilty one. You did the study, you’re responsible for the bridge collapsing, and you were the cause of people dying.”
“And what will happen to you and the children?”
“They have no reason to harm me. I’ll collect the children and leave for Greece too. Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage! Christian will help me. You leave now! Right away!”
But it was too late. Five very tall policemen had just entered their courtyard and their intentions were quite obvious. Tayaris made a run for it but he didn’t get far. When three of the policemen moved toward Fokas, Julia felt the blood rising to her head. She let out a cry and leapt toward them. Shocked, they didn’t know what to do; they had no idea how to deal with this tiny woman who cursed them in perfect French and kicked their shins. At one point she climbed on one of the policemen, pulled his hair, and scratched his face while she continued kicking the other two. The scene was indescribable. Faida, who heard the shouting, ran and jumped on the men too. Between French curses, Julia gave strict orders to Fokas in Greek. “Go, for God’s sake, now! You can see that I’m managing here. Leave now!”
In a single bound Fokas leapt over the fence and disappeared. One of the policemen managed to free himself from the women to run after him but it was too late. It was as if the earth had opened up and swallowed him. In truth, Faida’s father had heard the ruckus and walked toward the house with a cartful of hay, which provided the perfect place for Fokas to hide. As Abdul strolled nonchalantly past the house, pushing his cart and whistling, the police didn’t suspect a thing. After all, the fugitive couldn’t possibly be hiding in a cart that was headed right past the place where his pursuers were waiting.
When things had quietened down in the courtyard, Julia very calmly asked the policemen for an explanation, assuring them that it was impossible for her husband to be responsible for the disaster. The policemen seemed embarrassed by her sudden change in her behavior and decided she wasn’t right in the head, a fact that Faida confirmed, speaking in their native tongue. She explained to them that her mistress had problems with her nerves and suffered from these crises often. The police said that however things were, the house would remain under observation and Fokas would be regarded now as a fugitive. They went off, leaving one policeman to guard the house. Julia gave him a scathing glance and went inside with Faida following her.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Julia collapsed in Faida’s arms. The young woman made her mistress sit in a chair and brought her a glass of water, which she took with shaking hands, spilling half of it. She had to get ahold of herself. She had to concentrate and find solutions. She knew that Fokas was in good hands for the time being—she had no doubt that he’d escaped in the cart that Faida’s father had pushed past the house a little while earlier. She’d only exchanged a glance with Abdul, but it told her everything she needed to know. Fokas would have to leave the country secretly. Tayaris was capable of putting all the blame on him. He had no moral qualms; she was sure of that. But how was she to manage getting her husband safely abroad? She would need help. She telephoned Christian without saying what she wanted because she was afraid her calls were being monitored, but he knew right away why she’d called. The radio was bombarding people with news of the terrible accident, repeating again and again the name of the engineer responsible for it and declaring that the authorities were looking for him.
When Christian arrived, his face was distorted with worry. Julia explained to him what had happened and what had to happen now.
“This is very difficult, especially now!” he told her. “They’re searching for him everywhere—how are we going to get him out?”
“Difficult, easy, it must be done,” Julia insisted. “But we mustn’t put his life in danger. For the time being he must stay hidden until things calm down. During that time, I’ll try to find a way to get him out of the country.’
Fokas never left the country. Christian found him hiding in a deserted area and began to visit him daily, while taking every precaution, to bring him food and tell him about his efforts, with Julia, to get him out of the country. One afternoon, though, wasn’t like the others.
When the locals heard what had happened at the bridge site, they knew immediately that the one responsible for the disaster wasn’t the husband of the good white woman, but the other one. They found out that Fokas was hiding and that he would leave the country—which meant they would lose her too. The poisoned arrow struck Fokas in the leg. When Christian found him, he understood immediately what had happened. Fokas had managed to pull the arrow out, not knowing that if air got into the wound, the poison would work faster. Death found him almost instantaneously, with the arrow still in his hand.
The return journey was an endless nightmare for Julia. Even after some time she had difficulty remembering what had happened after the unbearable and unjust death of Fokas. She only remembered that Christian, Helene, and of course Faida were always beside her, with Faida holding her hand. Her instinct for self-preservation had probably erased from her brain all the painful memories, difficulties, and hopelessness that had overwhelmed her. If it hadn’t been for Christian, she didn’t know if she would have managed to leave the country.
One of the few memories she could dredge up was the moment of her farewell with Helene and her children, and the guilty expression of Abdul, who hadn’t managed to save her husband as he’d once saved her. Perhaps that’s why he allowed Faida to leave with her for Greece without any discussion.
Everything seemed different to her when she set foot in Thessaloniki. Fortunately, Fokas’s decision to send all their money there before he started on that cursed bridge was a salvation for Julia and the girls. She decided to book them into a hotel, since she hadn’t had the courage yet to write anything to his parents.
When she finally lay down on the bed, she slept for almost twenty-four hours. The children stayed completely quiet, realizing how much their mother needed to recover her strength. Besides, they also felt exhausted. After so many hours of sleep, Julia woke up feeling better. She ordered them all a large breakfast, and while they were eating, she tried to organize her thoughts. She looked out of the window. It was winter and the first thing she had to do was make sure they had suitable clothes. They were all wearing summer clothes, and despite the heating in the hotel, they were cold in their cotton dresses. She decided they would go shopping first, then, in the afternoon, she’d go see her father-in-law. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
In the store, the salespeople were a little surprised at first by Faida, but her pleasant personality together with the fact that she spoke good Greek soon made them forget the color of her skin and treat her kindly. For herself, Julia chose simple black clothes. She had to explain to Faida that all Greek women who are in mourning wear black, but the girl didn’t like it. They came back loaded with packages, ate their lunch, and Julia lay down to rest for a little while. After the difficulties of the last weeks, she tired easily.
She was awakened later in the afternoon by the cries of Faida. It had begun to snow outside and a white mantle had covered everything. Julia watched the flakes falling, enchanted. She had forgotten how beautiful the snow was. But Faida was afraid.
“Madam, bread is falling out of the sky! White bread!” she called out. “What are we going to do?”
Julia laughed. Of course snow would seem like the strangest thing Faida had ever seen. The girls were surprised too. They knew about snow theoretically from school, but they’d never seen it. Julia opened the
door and took them all out on the balcony. At first Faida looked at the snowflakes falling on her in a panic, then marveled when she saw them melt a moment later. With great reluctance she let Julia put a snowball in her hand, but then jumped up immediately shouting, “It burns, madam! The white bread that’s falling from the sky burns!”
Julia began to laugh and the children joined her. She took the camera that she and Fokas had bought together and began taking pictures of Faida. “I’ll send them to your parents,” she said. “So they can learn about snow too!”
Faida began to enjoy herself. She even reached the point of lying down on the white mattress that had collected on the balcony and filling her hands with snow. Julia soon called them inside. They had amused themselves for long enough, and she didn’t want them to catch colds. Faida and these “African” children were unaccustomed to this weather; the last thing Julia needed now was sickness. Besides, however difficult it might be, she had to go and see her father-in-law.
Her legs trembled as she stood outside his store. From his letters she knew that Kyriakos hadn’t retired, that he continued to go every day to his business and that he was still very active despite his seventy-six years. She went inside and saw that the employees were the same. His young lads were now mature men, and his young girls were women of a certain age. With an effort, Julia climbed the few steps to his office and entered without knocking. She found him bent over his accounts as usual.
When he saw her his eyes opened wide and a happy smile spread over his face. He jumped up and Julia disappeared in his embrace. The old man couldn’t stop kissing her while his hands kept stroking her hair. “My little girl,” he said over and over again. “I see you but I don’t believe it. But when did you arrive? Why didn’t you let us know? Where is Fokas? Where are the children?”
Julia pulled back from his embrace. “Sit down, Father,” she said quietly to him. “I’ll tell you everything. That’s why I came.”
The man’s face suddenly darkened. It was then that he noticed her clothes. “Julia, why are you wearing black?” he asked her, very upset. “Who died?” And then, when she didn’t answer, “Why don’t you speak?”
“Because it’s not easy, Father. Sit down and I’ll explain everything.”
It was much more difficult than she had imagined. Her father-in-law cried like a baby in her arms as soon as he learned of the death of his only son. Julia gave him some water and a cognac and comforted him with words that still sounded hollow and meaningless in her ears but seemed to bring Kyriakos around. He straightened his body, dried his eyes, and looked at his daughter-in-law.
“Here I am, beating my breast and not thinking at all about you, my girl,” he whispered.
Julia smiled affectionately through her tears. Even at a moment like this the dignity of this man rose up proudly. “Father,” she stammered as soon as she could speak, “we must all be brave. There are the children to think of.”
“Where are the children?”
She explained that they were at the hotel. Then, through more sobs, she told him the whole story from the beginning as he had asked her to. He had the right to know how and why his son had died. She recounted for him all their troubles up to the point where they managed to leave the country and explained that Faida was with them. When Julia finished, the two of them were silent, both steeped in their pain.
“Why didn’t you come straight to the house?” Kyriakos asked.
“The journey was endless—we were exhausted. And I didn’t have the courage to tell you what happened yet. How could I turn up suddenly at your door with the children and Faida but without Fokas? I needed a little time. Do you understand?”
“Completely, my girl.”
“But how will we tell Mother? How will I face her without him beside me? What will I tell her about her son?”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll tell her together, and then we’ll fetch you from the hotel to live with us.”
“That’s not possible. I have Faida with me.”
“So? Do you think that a girl who stood beside you for so many years wouldn’t be welcome in my house? She not only looked after you and the children, but also my son!”
“I’m afraid of Mother.”
“Evanthia isn’t the person you remember, my child. And now . . . after this . . .”
“Exactly because of this! Maybe she’ll think I’m responsible for the death of her son.”
“Even Evanthia isn’t as crazy as that. Before he left, Fokas made the reasons for his decision clear to her. And she knows that you simply followed him. You aren’t responsible for any of this. Come, let’s go.”
The two of them went out into the frigid air. The snow grew heavier as night came on. They walked side by side, not speaking, one supporting the other as tears kept streaming down their faces. As they entered the house, Julia realized she was trembling uncontrollably and not only because of the freezing air.
Evanthia was in the sitting room reading when she saw them come in. A happy cry sprang from her lips. She ran and embraced her daughter-in-law with real delight, which made Julia more upset than ever. She surrendered herself stoically to the kisses and hugs of her mother-in-law so that she could use the time to calm herself. What followed was much like what had happened at her father-in-law’s shop, except that Evanthia fainted when she heard the terrible news. They had to give her a tranquilizer as soon as she recovered, but her weeping was like a pitiful lament. Julia looked at the two old people crying in each other’s arms in front of her and didn’t know what to say to comfort them. She knelt beside them and Evanthia reached out her hand to stroke her hair, at which point Julia too burst into tears again. Her sobs shook her whole body until the two parents embraced her and joined their sobs with hers.
The first to recover was Kyriakos. “We need to pull ourselves together,” he murmured, wiping his eyes. “We’re not alone. There are three children depending on us. They’ve been through a lot already!”
Julia dried her eyes too and took a deep breath.
“Where are the children?” Evanthia asked, her voice faint. “Why didn’t you bring them? You’ll stay here, with us.”
Julia repeated everything she had told her father-in-law, that the children were at the hotel and Faida was with them. “Maybe it’s better to postpone our moving in till tomorrow,” she said. “You’re still very upset. And then there’s Faida.”
She was surprised to hear her mother-in-law say almost the same as her father-in-law had said a little earlier. “We’ll all live together,” Evanthia declared abruptly. “After what has happened, you and the children are our only joy. As for the black girl, she’s welcome in our house just as she was in yours.”
Julia stroked her mother-in-law’s cheek softly and couldn’t help thinking that if Fokas could see them from above, he’d be very happy that the women in his life had finally come together.
The children were very curious to meet the grandparents they’d come to love through their mother’s stories over the years. As soon as they entered the house, they dashed into the elderly couple’s arms as if they’d only seen them the day before. Evanthia sobbed as she hugged the girls to her. After the first hugs were over, little Evanthia made herself comfortable in her grandfather’s arms and soon after fell asleep.
Faida came nervously into the house and sat down on one side of the room near the entrance. Julia called her over to introduce her to her in-laws. The girl didn’t know what to do when Kyriakos, as soon as he was introduced, opened his arms and gave her a big hug. Evanthia did the same. Much later, lying on her bed, Julia thought how she used to believe that people can’t completely change, but Evanthia was living proof of the opposite. The warm embrace of her in-laws was like balm to her soul, which, after so long, was finally at peace. She felt that she had somewhere to rest and people to look after her, love her, and make the absence of Fokas hurt less.
The next day Julia’s father-in-law enrolled the three children in school, explai
ning the special circumstances to the teachers. He bought another bed for Faida, who had slept on the floor the first night, and before a week had passed, Evanthia, with Faida’s help, had arranged the apartment to accommodate everyone. But when Faida explained politely but firmly that from now on she would do all the housework, Evanthia was overwhelmed and turned to Julia for help.
“That’s the way it is, Mother, just as she said,” she explained. “I didn’t want to accept it either in the beginning and even more so now that I’ve become so close to her. But Faida has very strong opinions about her place and her duties. The salary she gets is almost symbolic, but she would never accept any more, however much I insisted, any more than she would abandon calling me ‘madam,’ even though it really irritates me.”
“But I feel so bad, child! She anticipates my every wish.”
“And if you deprive her of that she’ll be unhappy. She does the same to me. The girl has been with me since she was fifteen and she seems to have dedicated her life to me and the children. If I hadn’t taken her with me, she could have died.”
Before two months had passed, Julia felt as if she’d never left Greece. Only the absence of Fokas tormented her from time to time. She tried not to cry in front of the children and her in-laws, and Faida put cold compresses on her eyes when she did cry so the others wouldn’t know about it. The young woman never told her mistress that she did the same thing for her mother-in-law, who also hid her tears. Julia had never written to her mother about what had happened. In fact, she had stopped writing to her altogether. She didn’t have the courage to tell her how her daughter’s life had been ruined. Better for her to live in ignorance.
The children seemed happy with their life in Thessaloniki, except for Hara, who had told her mother that she didn’t like the city. She couldn’t bear so many cars and wanted to live in a house with a garden rather than an apartment. Julia smiled despite herself. Her daughter wasn’t like her. She’d grown up with a longing for the city and always saw her house, the one by the river, as an anchor that stopped her from sailing to other places. Now she saw that her eldest daughter needed precisely that anchor, but Julia couldn’t do anything about it. She knew that if she even mentioned going to her village, it would upset her in-laws, who clung to her and would tremble at the thought she might settle there. Besides, there was something that counterbalanced Hara’s hatred of the city and that was the grandparents themselves. At fourteen, she and Theodora, now twelve, were like their grandmother’s shadow; they followed her faithfully. Evanthia had taught her two older grandchildren to knit and to cook. On Sundays, when they didn’t have school, she took the two of them into the kitchen and closed the door behind them. There she sat on a chair and directed them as they prepared the family meal. She only got up to check if the onions had browned as they should, if the rice needed to boil a bit longer, or if the sauce needed to thicken a little more. She also taught them to roll out the dough and make the pies she was famous for.