The House by the River

by Lena Manta

  “I didn’t leave either love or respect in my husband’s heart,” Aspasia admitted, and her eyes filled with tears again. “I destroyed everything!”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “Yes, but I accept the fact that he found what he deserved in another woman. I wasn’t worthy. I don’t know what got into me all those years when I was indifferent, and I don’t know what I was looking for in the arms of all those other men. Nor do I know now why my daughter came with me instead of turning her back on me. She would have been within her rights to pay me back with the same indifference I’d shown to her all those years. I was an unworthy mother and yet my daughter forgave me.”

  “Then maybe you’d better forgive yourself too, Aspasia. And perhaps I should forgive myself as well. We came back, and that says something.”

  “I don’t know if it’s enough. I don’t know how much power the present has to erase the past, or at least to correct the mistakes.”

  In spite of Aspasia’s doubts, the magical influence of return became quite clear the very next day. Little Theodora had become attached to her grandmother and followed her every step. Aspasia, like Melissanthi, had the feeling that she had only been away from home for a day. Without even having to think about it, she went to the pantry and took out the flour for her mother to make the bread, just as she’d done as a child. Then she prepared the big trough to knead the dough. Melissanthi had already put the pan of water on to heat. As Grandmother was in the yard plucking a chicken for their dinner, Aspasia began to peel the potatoes. The house suddenly felt like a working beehive. This spring promised to be the best in many years for all of them.

  On the first of May, the two Theodoras made a large, multicolored wreath. Aspasia pinned it to the door and they all sat on the verandah to admire it. In the afternoon they went for a walk to the square and Mr. Karavassilis was so pleased to see the family together that he refused to accept any money for the sweet treats they had eaten.

  In time, a few of Aspasia’s old schoolmates dropped by the house and she found herself laughing aloud at some of their memories, while her daughter looked on, happily admiring her. It was the first time Aspasia saw such pride in her daughter’s eyes. And if she hadn’t been with so many people at the time, she would certainly have cried.

  Melissanthi still hadn’t gone near the river. One day, when Aspasia insisted, she tried to approach it. But when she got close, she stopped.

  Aspasia turned toward her. “It can’t carry us away anymore, Melissanthi. In any case it’s not responsible for the way our lives ended up.”

  “Mother said the same thing. But I know I have a debt to pay for everything I did.”

  “Do you remember when we were kids? This is where we played, and later as young girls, this is where we dreamed.”

  “And what did we achieve of those dreams? We came back defeated, carrying a need for the peace of the river.”

  “But we became wiser. Grandmother says, if you don’t suffer, you don’t learn.”

  Melissanthi came closer and sat on the bank beside Aspasia.

  “I wonder what happened to the others,” she said after a few minutes of silence. “Do you think they’ll come back too?”

  “What for?” Aspasia answered. “Julia, from what Mother says, is in Africa with her husband and has three children! Imagine! As for Magdalini, since her husband has a business in America, why would she come here? Then there’s Polyxeni, who’s famous and rich. Why would she return? She was the one who wanted to leave more than any of us, remember?”

  “She didn’t marry,” Melissanthi said thoughtfully. “At least that’s what the newspapers say.”

  “She never spoke about marriage or children. She was strange . . .”

  “In the village, they said she had her nose stuck up in the air.”

  “And were they wrong? Do you remember how she used to raise one eyebrow and look at people in such a superior way? Stavros told me that when she looked at him, he never knew what to say. He thought whatever he said would be wrong!”

  Both sisters laughed at the memory.

  That year, the summer was in a hurry. So much so that it pushed spring aside long before the end of May. The woolen carpets were washed and put in storage with mothballs, as were the blankets. Little Theodora was thrilled with all these jobs.

  That afternoon the two grandmothers set out for the cemetery to light candles for their husbands and the child accompanied them. Melissanthi and Aspasia sat down on the verandah, ready to enjoy their afternoon coffee in the peace and fresh air.

  “I adore them,” Melissanthi said as soon as they left. “But the truth is, they make a lot of noise.”

  Aspasia nodded and smiled before she answered. “The little one is happier than I’ve seen her for years. She’s become a child of her own age again.”

  “Your daughter is lovable.”

  “She loves you; she told me last night. She also told me that your eyes, even when you laugh, are sad,” Aspasia added.

  “She’s very clever and observant. You must be proud.”

  Aspasia nodded her head again and her eyes turned toward the horizon, where, the very next moment, something drew her attention. Melissanthi noticed and followed her sister’s gaze. Two figures who were coming down the hill.

  “Polyxeni?” Melissanthi said in a whisper.

  “We can’t both be seeing this and both be wrong!” Aspasia exclaimed.

  The two sisters stood up at the same time.

  Polyxeni had arrived in the village a little while earlier with Vassiliki. It had been a difficult journey for her. The familiar landscape outside the window of the bus had plunged her into a melancholy silence. Vassiliki was sensitive to her mother’s moods and stayed silent too. When they got off in the village square, Polyxeni surveyed her surroundings and caught sight of the old plane tree. It moved its branches to welcome her as it had done to her sisters, but Polyxeni didn’t know that. At first it seemed to her that the old tree was making fun of her. Still, she smiled.

  “Is this the village you told me about, Mama?” Vassiliki asked, finally breaking the silence of the last hours.

  “Yes, my darling. This is where I grew up, where I played, where I dreamed,” Polyxeni answered, planting a kiss on the child’s forehead.

  “It’s very beautiful. Look at that big tree. It’s really enormous!”

  “It’s a plane tree. In the afternoon the square fills with people and lots of children run around and shout. Before my father died he would bring us here on Sundays and we’d each get a treat at Mr. Karavassilis’s. He’s famous for his cakes and pies.”

  “And your house? Where’s your house, Mama? Where’s the house by the river that you told me about?”

  Vassiliki seemed impatient and Polyxeni smiled.

  “We’ll have to walk a little, my little miss!”

  “Let’s go then! What are we waiting for?” The child pulled her by the hand.

  They started walking away from the square just as Mr. Karavassilis came outside his shop to drink his coffee. He immediately recognized the actress.

  “Ah, that,” he said to himself, “that seems like a miracle!”

  He wondered who the girl was who was holding Polyxeni’s hand. Thanks to Stathis’s lawyer friend, no information had come out in the press about Vassiliki so that the child would be protected.

  Polyxeni quickened her step as she drew closer to the house. She was in a hurry to see the nest she had flown from so many years ago. Just before the final bend, she stopped, frozen. What if her mother was no longer alive? What if something had happened? What if the house didn’t belong to the family anymore? What would she do then? Where would she go?

  She continued walking with her mind made up. Whatever had happened, she wouldn’t go back.

  The sun shone blindingly on the river’s surface. The reflection was so bright it made Polyxeni turn her eyes toward the house instead. A smile broke out on her face when she saw it looking so strong and
new.

  “How beautiful it is here!” Vassiliki declared.

  Polyxeni turned to her daughter. “Do you like it, my dear?” she asked.

  “It’s wonderful, Mama! Did you really grow up here?”

  “Yes. Here.”

  “How could you leave such a paradise?” Vassiliki wondered.

  Polyxeni smiled somewhat bitterly now. “I was looking for another paradise, my dear, but I was wrong. After so many years, I’ve learned that every person has the right to just one paradise, and when he has it before him, he must respect it.”

  “But for me, anyway, it’s better that you left.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because if you hadn’t left here you wouldn’t have met my mother, and I wouldn’t have you, now that she is dead.”

  Polyxeni took the child in her arms and held her for a few moments, long enough for Vassiliki to look toward the house and ask, “Mama, who are those two ladies standing and looking at us?”

  Polyxeni let her daughter go and turned to see what she was talking about. Her breath came out noisily when she recognized them. “My Lord!” she called out. “Melissanthi! Aspasia! My sisters!”

  Almost at the exact same moment, the three started forward to meet each other. Melissanthi and Aspasia had already come out of the garden gate and Polyxeni ran toward them as Vassiliki followed without any hurry. She knew everything about her mother’s sisters. Her mother had told her about them and she knew she should be tactful at this first meeting after so many years. She stopped a little way off and watched her mother disappear in the arms of the other two women. She could see their tear-filled eyes and hear their laughter and every word clearly.

  “I can’t believe it!” Polyxeni said over and over. “How come you’re here? What are you doing at home?”

  “You’ve come back! You’ve come back too!” Aspasia said as she held her sister’s face in her hands, as if she wanted to make sure it was really her and not someone who just looked like her.

  Melissanthi didn’t say anything. The lump that had formed in her throat wouldn’t let her say a word. She held Polyxeni’s hand and kissed it. Vassiliki moved forward and caught up with them.

  Polyxeni pulled herself away from her sisters’ arms and placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders before turning to them again. “This is Vassiliki,” she announced. “She’s my daughter. I adopted her when her parents were killed. They were my dear friends. And their child is my child, my blood.”

  It was Vassiliki’s turn to disappear into the arms of the two women, and strangely, the child felt as if she had found her aunts, that she had suddenly acquired a family.

  They all went into the house together. Polyxeni looked around her with tears in her eyes. Everything was new, and yet nothing had changed. It was obvious that things had been updated, but without spoiling the character of the house. Even her mother’s beloved armchair in front of the fireplace was the same, but the varnish on the arms now shone; it had clearly been preserved with care.

  She turned to her sisters, who were observing her with love. “Mother?” she dared to ask.

  “She’s fine,” answered Melissanthi, who was able to speak now. “And so is Grandmother!”

  “Grandmother is still alive?” Polyxeni’s voice was full of emotion.

  “Of course she’s alive!” Aspasia said. “A little older, of course, but strong.”

  “Where is she?”

  “They’ve gone to the cemetery to light candles for Father and Grandfather,” Melissanthi answered. Then she added, “Aspasia’s daughter Theodora is with them.”

  Polyxeni looked at both her sisters in amazement. “I don’t believe it! We’re together, along with our children too!” Then she thought to ask, “And you, Melissanthi? Do you have children as well?”

  Melissanthi gave her a sad look. “I had a son, but I lost him.”

  Polyxeni approached her sister and embraced her. “I’m sorry. I’m guessing that all three of our ships were wrecked. That’s why you came back, like I did, isn’t it?”

  But Aspasia interrupted them. “It’s not the time for that. We have the child here,” she said and nodded toward Vassiliki. The girl approached her then, ready to cry herself. “Not you too, my dear,” Aspasia said and hugged her. “You mustn’t cry. You’re with us now, and in a little while, when the others come back, you’ll meet my daughter. You’ll have your cousin to play with, just like we three had each other back then.”

  Little Theodora’s voice could be heard from the road, singing with her grandmothers.

  “They’re coming!” Aspasia said, running to the window. “Hide! Let’s surprise them!”

  As if they’d gone back to their childhood, when the five of them invented tricks to play on their parents, Polyxeni scrambled to find a place to hide. She took Vassiliki, who was laughing at the game, and the two hid in the kitchen. The elder Theodora came in first and found her daughters sitting on the sofa, smiling for no reason.

  “Why are you two looking so excited?” she asked.

  “Us? There’s nothing wrong with us,” Aspasia hurried to answer.

  “I don’t believe a word of it! It’s written all over your faces that you’ve cooked something up!” she said, pretending to be annoyed.

  Now Grandmother Julia and little Theodora came into the room.

  “What makes you say something like that?” Melissanthi chimed in. “We’re just sitting here nice and quiet.”

  “Ah, so now you’re helping your sister,” Theodora teased. “Now I’m sure you two are up to something. You’ve done the same thing since you were children. One would tell a lie and the other one would back her up. I’m sure that if Polyxeni were here she’d have poured some sauce on the top to make me believe you! She had plenty of imagination when it came to lies!”

  “I’m here, Mother . . . but this time there’s no need for lies.”

  Theodora turned toward her daughter, who was looking at her with a guilty expression from the doorway of the living room. She opened and closed her eyes as if she wanted to clear them, to drive away the false image she was seeing. It couldn’t be . . . but it was so beautiful and real looking!

  Polyxeni didn’t leave her mother in doubt any longer. She ran to her, held her tightly, and whispered a single phrase in her ear: “I’m sorry!”

  As if she had woken up from some lethargy, Theodora folded her child in her arms, unable to speak or do anything but kiss Polyxeni again and again. The house filled with even more voices, just like the old days, with everyone talking at once. Theodora hugged Vassiliki, her second granddaughter. When Polyxeni explained that she had adopted her, her mother cut her off immediately. “Why are you telling me that?” she said. “What difference does it make? To me, it’s as if this child came from you. She’s my flesh and blood from now on, just like Theodora!”

  As for little Theodora, having lost her sister so tragically, she felt an immediate attachment to Vassiliki and didn’t let her out of her sight. They even slept in the same bed, and often their mothers would see the two of them sitting together by the river, talking for hours.

  “Do they remind you of anything?” Polyxeni asked her sisters two weeks later, when it had become obvious to everyone that the two girls were like conjoined twins.

  Melissanthi nodded. Evening had fallen and the three women were sitting beside the river.

  “It’s as strange as it is moving. They’re our future and they’re behaving just like us! I just hope they don’t make the same mistakes we did,” Aspasia answered.

  They were all silent for a while. Suddenly, Polyxeni began talking about her life. She hadn’t revealed anything to anyone since the day she’d returned. That night, though, she began to unwind the ball of her life. Only when she reached the death of Leonidas did she stop for a moment and turn to Melissanthi. “As you see, you’re not the only one who caused the death of a young man,” she said. “Except that I didn’t love Leonidas as you loved Angelos. I used
him. And even if I didn’t understand what I was doing then, I still can’t forgive myself now.”

  “None of us can forgive ourselves for what we’ve done,” Aspasia said quietly, as if she were afraid the river itself might hear her words.

  Polyxeni went on until she reached the accident that took Stathis and Martha from her. Sobs interrupted her story. The two sisters hurried to embrace her and let her mourn again for the beloved friends she had lost, while they wept with her for their own losses.

  When they’d recovered Melissanthi mused, “In the end we were so ungrateful for everything life gave us that I doubt we could atone for it, even if we had another whole lifetime to do it.”

  “I’ll always ask myself why I left here,” Polyxeni went on. “And it wasn’t enough that I left the way I did, knowing how much I’d hurt my mother; during all those years I wasn’t even interested in knowing how she was! As least with you it was different. You fell in love, you got married, and you followed your men. But me?”

  “You were the most honest!” Melissanthi protested. “You followed your dream. Me, though? I married Apostolos for his money. At least in the beginning, that’s all I saw. And even though I had all the time in the world, I didn’t visit our mother either. What was a little trip up here to me? And yet I never did it! I was away for twenty years and in the end I stopped even writing. I never wondered if she was alive, or how she was living until I came back, and that was because I needed her!”

  “It’s the same with me!” Aspasia began. “I was supposed to be in love with Stavros, and yet as soon as I left I began to feel bored. The desire to sing professionally rose up in me, and along with it came another side of my character that I didn’t even know existed. As for our mother, I wasn’t interested in finding out how she was either, and I never thought of coming for a visit. She lived alone with Grandmother. Who knows how difficult it was for her all those years, and yet she welcomed us without ever saying a word about our having ignored her, without complaining. I’m ashamed to look her in the eye. At least you, Polyxeni, never betrayed anyone!”