Nicolai's Daughters
Page 19
He dashed out into the street. Alexia squeezed the brakes and closed her eyes. The moped pitched and stalled. She put her feet down, felt ground. She was still upright, thank God. She clenched down on the brakes again. She opened her eyes, then slowly unlocked her fingers. She shook them out, rubbed her hands and remembered the pedestrian. She tried to get off the moped, see to him, but her legs refused to move.
He stood curled away from her. As he uncoiled, he patted himself down checking for injury, then charged towards her, shouting words and waving his hands. She recognized the streak in his whiskers. His beard had been trimmed close, but the white stripe was still there, like a scar.
He stroked the tuft on his chin with the back of his hand. Behind him, the late-day sun tinged the tips of his silver hair, giving it a fiery glow. His olive skin seemed to darken. His eyes crinkled and he grinned.
Like he doesn’t have a care in the world, she thought. “What is wrong with you?” She pulled the moped up onto its kickstand, took off her helmet and pushed it into his chest. “What are you, blind? Can’t you see?”
“I see you try to kill me. Yes?” He shrugged. “But I forgive.” He held her helmet in one hand and extended his other arm to pull her close.
Alexia pushed him away.
A horn blared behind her. She jumped. Achilles held her in his arms, tossing the driver a hand gesture. He smelled of lavender. Grey curls teased the narrow opening of his shirt.
She pulled away. He laced her helmet through his arm, grabbed the handlebars and pushed the moped off the road. She followed. His back and shoulders flexed underneath his shirt.
“I could have done that,” she said, as he parked the moped.
“Yes,” he said. “You strong. I like this.”
“You sold me a lemon.”
“Oxi,” he said. “I sell moped. Not lemon.” He opened his arms towards the moped like a salesman presenting his latest prize. “Perhaps I give you lessons. Yes?”
“It’s a death trap. It can’t keep up. It’s junk and you know it.”
“It needs special touch.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Like a woman.”
Alexia ducked away from his arm. She pointed to her helmet. He passed it to her.
“You need drink. Yes? We talk and everything is okay.” He pointed to the crowd gathered around them. “We do not give show here.”
“You’re lucky I don’t sue you.”
“If your mind change, I be in taverna where before I give you my moped.”
“You mean where you pawned this piece of junk off on me, junk I paid for.”
“Achilles and his fine moped, we no junk. You see.”
The moped started on the first try. She shifted into gear. Alexia ignored his grin and ready wave. “Choke on my fumes,” she said, hoping he’d heard her and actually understood.
Normally at this hour, Christina would be in the kitchen preparing dinner. Alexia found a pot of steaming water on the stove and smelled a roast in the oven so she knew her aunt couldn’t be far away. The kitchen seemed big and empty without Christina in it, fussing over dinner, or the dishes.
Alexia went upstairs, dropped her pack, helmet and keys on the bed and stepped out onto the terrace. She could see Christina in the distance, bent low in the field, picking beans. Solon stood beside her, holding a bowl as Christina filled it. Alexia rubbed her palms against her pants. Why am I so worried about what she thinks? It’s not like she’s going to ground me.
“I’m not a baby,” she’d said to her mother. They’d been arguing about what Alexia was wearing. It was a week before Sara died. Just one week.
“I don’t want to wear those pants.” Alexia slapped her mother’s hand and the pants fell to the floor. They both looked at each other. Alexia tucked her hands behind her back, looked away.
“The ones you’ve got on aren’t clean,” her mother said.
“I’m not going to take them off.”
“Why won’t you do this?” she said. “I’m tired. Don’t you understand?”
“I’ll wear what I want,” Alexia said and stormed out of her room, grabbed her pack and went to school without saying good-bye.
She’d hit her mother with her own hands. How could she? Her mother was sick. Alexia couldn’t concentrate all day and when the last bell rang, she ran home as fast as she could. She snuck into her mother’s room and stood at the door, holding her breath, listening. She pushed the old chair closer to the bed, plopped herself on top of her hands and watched her mother’s face, logging each tiny detail: the freckles on her nose, the pale pink of her lips, the narrow face. She’d practised what she would say. I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m a brat. I didn’t mean to.
Her mother moaned and Alexia stroked her forehead. Her mother smiled. “You’re so independent. It’s a good thing.” When Sara touched Alexia’s cheek, her hand felt cold. It didn’t matter. She wanted her mother’s hand to stay there forever. It fell away. Alexia held her mother’s hand close to her cheek. Sara was asleep again. Over and over, Alexia pictured her mother’s face. What shade of grey were her eyes? Get it right. She started it as a game to help make the time go faster until her mother woke up.
Alexia stayed with her until her father came home. Nicolai made dinner, fed Alexia, cleaned up, and put her to bed. She heard them talking later, then Nicolai humming. Alexia had fallen asleep to that sound, still trying to figure out the right word to describe the colour of her mother’s eyes.
“Thia,” Alexia called out. Christina would like that, but so did she, the feel of the soft syllables in her mouth.
“I make supper soon,” Christina called back without looking up.
What’s she thinking? There was only one way out. “We should talk,” she said, hating to say this out loud.
“After. We come in soon.” Christina stayed bent, her back to Alexia. Her apron seemed to be cinched too tight, little bits of pudginess spilled over the bow.
Alexia stepped back into the room, threw herself on the bed. Stop worrying, she told herself. It doesn’t help. She sat up against a pillow and waited for the scrape of the front door, their voices in the kitchen. Christina knew. She’d probably told Solon. He was so proud of her when she started to speak Greek, put basic sentences together, his morning lessons finally paying off. She shook her head. What would he think of her now?
Alexia punched at the numbers on her cell phone as if playing a video game. She heard his voice. Surprised, she dropped the phone and lost the connection. She picked up the phone and redialled.
“Hey, kiddo. Don’t hang up on me again.”
“Dan?”
“Who else have you been calling?”
“I don’t usually have any reception here. Um, I’m waiting for my aunt,” Alexia said. “I need to resolve something.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“I pissed her off.”
“Hard to imagine.” He laughed, but it sounded forced.
She had probably interrupted him in the middle of reviewing a file. She could picture the concentration on his face as he leaned into his computer screen for some kind of direction. He’s probably anxious to get back to whatever he’s doing. Get off the phone, she told herself. “How’s everything?”
“Not the same.”
Alexia heard the scratch of wood on wood at the front door downstairs. Over the rush of water in the kitchen sink, their voices rose, quieter than usual. “They’re back. I should go face the music.”
He cleared his throat. “You want to talk?”
“I have to deal with it.” She got off the bed. She wished he could help. But no one really could.
“You don’t have to do everything on your own.”
“It’s the only way I know.” She paced.
“Cheer up. This may mean I’ll get you back here faster.”
“And how will that help?”
“It’d make me happy.”
“I better go,” Alexia said, shaking her head.
&nbs
p; In the kitchen, Christina stood hunched over the sink, washing beans. She leaned to one side as if she needed support. Solon sat in his spot at the table, reading the paper, his glasses part way down his nose.
“Can I help, Thia?”
“I fine.”
“Is your back okay?”
“It okay.”
“I’m happy to help.”
“No.”
Alexia stood in the doorway. Now what? she wondered, staring at her bare feet.
Solon put down his paper. “What go wrong with you two?”
“You know,” Alexia said.
“No.”
“She didn’t tell you I had lunch with Theodora today?”
“Who?” Solon asked. “Christina, what goes on?”
Christina rubbed her hands on her apron and turned. There was a dark puffiness under her eyes.
“You didn’t tell him.”
Christina shook her head. “This between us.”
“Why you look for troubles?” Solon said.
“I’m not,” Alexia said.
“Christina, did you tell her?”
Again Christina shook her head.
“Tell me what?” Alexia said.
“Why bring problems on our head?” Solon said. “We keep things separate. It works better. No one is bothered.”
“I’m the only one who has to decide what to do. Not you. And why do you care anyway? This has nothing to do with you. She’s my sister.”
“You lie to me,” Christina said finally. “You see her and no tell me. Not right.”
“You didn’t want me to see her,” Alexia said. “Don’t you remember?”
“I did not say this. I said we think about this together. Do you remember? We only want your happiness.”
“And meeting Theodora won’t make me happy?” Alexia said. “Why?”
Christina turned and leaned into the counter. She muttered, but Alexia didn’t catch what Christina said.
“I can’t talk to you if you won’t be honest with me. You’re hiding something. What is it?” Alexia said, shaking her head. “You’re exactly like my father. He never trusted me either.” They want to keep their dirty little secrets to themselves, lord them over me. Tell me when I don’t expect it, and watch me squirm. Then I’ll be left holding the bag, dealing with one more bloody surprise. I was an idiot to let my guard down.
Alexia stalked out of the kitchen and flung open the front door. It jammed against the floor. She pulled it hard. Nothing. She yanked at it with both hands, heaving it up slightly. The door finally opened. She walked out of the yard and started up the street with no idea of where she was going. She just had to get away from the secrets, the lies, the betrayals. Before she knew it, she’d broken into a run. She told herself to slow down. Instead, she sped up. She heard the knock in her ears and ran faster.
When she couldn’t catch her breath, she jogged, eventually slowing down to a walk. She felt like her legs were about to give way beneath her. She bent over and clutched her knees, gulping air. Her sides ached. When she finally stood up, she walked back and forth, massaging the spot just below her ribs. She pictured Christina bent in the field, hunched over the sink. Christina’s lip-bitten smile after Alexia had blurted Theodora’s name to Solon, accusing him of knowing when he didn’t. Alexia shook her head. They’d been so good to her. But that didn’t give them the right to tell her what to do. And it didn’t give them the right to keep things from her either.
He was where he said he’d be. Dimly lit, the small taverna reeked of cigarette smoke. A couple sat at the table in the corner, their tongues slithering in and out of each other’s mouths. Three women were crowded into the booth closest to the bar. Grinning, he tilted his head towards the three women and raised his glass in a toast, nodded as if inviting himself to their table. Alexia stood at the door. The bartender elbowed Achilles. He turned, slid off his stool, ambled towards her, as deliberate as a runway model.
Achilles ran his hands up and down her arms, then hugged her.
Her arms stayed by her side.
“Yes?” The buttons of his shirt bored into her chest.
She pushed herself away. “How about that drink?”
“Anything for you.”
She ordered a glass of white wine and the bartender brought her a bottle of retsina and a glass and placed both in front of her. Achilles poured. Sipping his beer, he straddled the stool beside her. He stroked her hand and gently pressed his knee against hers. She didn’t shift away. She watched the outline of his stomach, the way it moved under his shirt as he breathed, wondered what it would feel like against her. He’d be a distraction. No different than the married lovers she’d been with. He was charming. She had to give him that. And a free spirit. She could stand to be around a bit of that right now.
“You no happy. Yes?”
Alexia laughed. “You could say that.”
“Tell me,” he said. His black pupils burrowed into hers, until she turned away. “You mad at Achilles. Yes?”
“It’s family stuff,” she said. “This would not interest you.”
“How you know what interests Achilles?”
“Those women back there.” Alexia nodded towards their table.
“Women like when men see.”
The raw, smoky pine flavour of the wine burned her throat, making her wince. She put the glass down, pushed it away, sat on her hands, feeling the cold through her pants. He rubbed her back. Goose bumps lifted on her arms. She sneezed. It was his cologne. She sneezed again. He grabbed a napkin from the pile on the bar and offered it to her. She turned to him and took the napkin from him.
“My family isn’t happy with me right now,” she said and faced her glass. She took another sip, and again pushed it away. The bartender refilled it, even though she shook her head and tried to put her hand over the glass.
“Then I be family for you. We work on my promenade by the sea.”
“It doesn’t look like much has been done for a long time.”
“We run out of money,” he said. “One day it will be beautiful.”
He told her about his vision for Diakofto, how it would be a destination for tourists, even without the train. The town could be so much more.
We could all be so much more, she thought. I’m always pissing someone off, doing things someone doesn’t like.
He kissed her. She liked the sweet smell of his mouth and the way his lips covered hers. What was she doing? She didn’t need this right now. It wouldn’t solve a thing. She pulled away.
“We go to the beach now,” he asked. “Or you prefer privacy?” He pointed to the ceiling. “There are rooms upstairs also.”
He moved in and tried to kiss her again.
This was crazy. She had to get home. As much as she craved something that would blast apart these damn thoughts, a Greek lover was not what she needed right now. And particularly someone like him. He was a taker and she was too tired to give anything of herself right now. She left a peck on his cheek, felt his stubbles against her lips.
Christina and Solon were pacing in the living room when she walked in. Alexia peered down at her watch. It was after ten. “I’m sorry I’m so late.” And I’m sorry I hurt you, she thought. My father asked me to do a job. I’ve met Theodora. I have to follow through and decide what I’m going to do now. I don’t have a choice.
“We talk when you go out. Solon and me think it is you to decide what you do.” Christina held Solon’s forearm. “No?”
Solon shrugged. “I do not want to bother her or her family.” He didn’t look at Alexia. “You have to think of her, too. What is best for her.”
“But why would it be a bother?” Alexia asked. “Aren’t we all family?”
“You hungry, no?” Christina said. “Eat.” She opened her arms to direct her towards the kitchen.
“Yes, we family,” Solon said. “But everyone has his own life. We live this way, each to his own side. Do you understand? This is how we do things.”
“She might not want to know about us,” Christina said.
“Why not?”
“If she does not know we are here, it could be like a shock to her.”
“But then we’d get to know each other and in time…”
“In time,” Christina said. “We say this, no? Things will change, be better in time. But life is not so simple. There are many things you do not understand.”
And I never will if you don’t tell me, Alexia thought.
Solon pointed to the stairs. “I go to bed now,” he said. “I am too tired for this.” He shuffled up the stairs.
“Come eat,” Christina said.
She’d find out what they were hiding and why and once she knew, she’d decide what to do about Theodora. Someone had to put a stop to these stupid secrets. Alexia followed Christina into the kitchen. “Just a small plate, please, Thia,” Alexia said.
13
1986
Nicolai lurched out onto the freeway, his foot hard on the gas pedal. The tires kicked up gravel. A horn boomed. He glared into his rear-view mirror and saw the front grille of a semi bearing down on him. He hunched his shoulders and tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
The semi barrelled past, cut back in front of Nicolai’s car, and hit the brakes. Nicolai pumped his, punching the horn. The truck driver sped off.
“Asshole,” Nicolai yelled. He thought about chasing the driver, doing the same goddamn thing to him. Instead, he slowed down. You’re one to talk. You screw up everything you touch. Who’s the asshole?
He thought about Alexia, the day they moved out of their house. When she asked him what’s next, why didn’t he say, “I don’t know, sweetie, we’ll work it out, together.”
He should have stayed in Vancouver, with her. Here he was homeless, his clothes all over the back seat and nowhere to go. Nicolai drove into Aigio and down the main street. The bakeries were busy. Women stood inside, talking. He slowed down and thought about getting a dozen chocolate éclairs for his mother. When he was a kid and she got mad at him for not finishing his chores, he’d spend the last of the money he saved from his part-time job on two éclairs for her. After that, she’d forgive him anything. But he wasn’t a kid anymore.