“But why won’t she get up, Mommy? Tell Yia-yia to get up,” Evie cried as she stomped her feet. Seeing her little girl in tears brought them once again to Daphne’s eyes as well.
Stephen stood perched in the doorway as if death were contagious. He had never seen anything like this in his life and wasn’t quite sure how to process it. Back home, there were people who dealt with this sort of thing. For Stephen, death, like cleaning the tub or doing your taxes, was something to be outsourced.
“Don’t you think we should move her to the church?” he asked as he first walked into the house. He didn’t wait for Daphne to answer. “I really think we should move her to the church.”
It seemed the entire island filed in to the little house to pay their respects to Yia-yia. One by one they entered the living room, knelt at Yia-yia’s side, and spoke to her, sang to her; caressed her face, kissed her hands, and showed her the same reverence, warmth, and affection in death as they all had in life. For a full day and night the entire island gave up their own homes for the sake of keeping Yia-yia company as she left hers.
Sophia was one of the first to arrive. She brought with her a tray of homemade koulourakia, simple braided cookies. “I thought you could serve these to everyone as they drank their coffee.” She smiled at Daphne as she placed the tray on the table. “Your yia-yia was always so good to me, Daphne. I know we don’t know each other well, but I want you to know how much she meant to me. There were so many afternoons spent here, drinking coffee. Thea Evangelia would comfort me and tell me to be strong, not to lose my faith, not to care what the gossips say about me. Her friendship meant everything to me. She told me to have faith when I had lost mine. She told me that despite what the gossips said, Petro had not forgotten me. That he still loved me and would send for me. And she was right.” Sophia squeezed Daphne’s hand. “He has sent for me, Daphne. He’s saved enough money, and I am finally going to join him in New York. We’re going to have a new life together, Daphne. Just as Thea Evangelia told me we would.”
“She was always right.” Daphne brought one of the koulourakia to her lips. She was surprised to realize just how hungry she was, that she had forgotten to eat all day. “I am so happy for you, Sophia. Really I am. Yianni speaks very highly of you as well.”
“He is a good man, Daphne. I feel lucky to call him my friend.”
Me too, Daphne thought. Me too. “Excuse me,” she said as she turned away from Sophia. She heard the gate creak open and was surprised to find Ari standing there, holding a small cluster of wildflowers.
“Ari?” Daphne couldn’t help saying his name as if it were a question. She’d known everyone on the island would come say his or her good-byes, but for some reason she had not envisioned Ari showing up.
“You sound surprised to see me.” He held out the flowers for Daphne to take. “Here, these are for you. Well, for you and Thea Evangelia.”
“Thank you.”
“I just wanted to say good-bye to her. She helped me, Daphne. Even though I know she meant what she said that time about using her machete—” Daphne and Ari both laughed at the memory of Yia-yia hunting Ari down and threatening to cut off his manhood. “Even though she owed me nothing, she helped me, Daphne. I never told a soul, but somehow she knew that I was going to lose my house—that I had no money left; that I had gambled and drunk it all away. I went to the bank to turn in my keys, and by some miracle they told me my debt was gone, that it had been paid in full. A few days afterward, your yia-yia and I passed each other on the road to the port. She reached her walking stick out and blocked my path. ‘You scare the young girls,’ she said to me. ‘Leave them alone and let them be. Our young girls have enough to worry about without you lurking in the shadows. You’ve been given a second chance, a fresh start in your home. It’s only right to give a gift back. It’s time to give our girls the gift of peace.’ Then without another word, she removed her walking stick from my path and went on her way. And so I made a promise that day. I never bothered another girl again. I keep my hands and my eyes to myself. I know it was Thea Evangelia who paid my debt. I made a promise to her, and I will never break it.”
Daphne put her hands on her hips. “Come on, Ari. Save your stories for someone else. I saw you, Ari, remember? I was there that day on Big Al, the day you mauled that blond girl. Her boyfriend would have killed you if we let him. Don’t try to tell me you’ve changed. Not when I’ve seen you with my own eyes.”
“I promised never to look or bother another island girl, Daphne,” he insisted. “That girl was German.”
As she stared at Ari grinning back at her, Daphne heard a piercing wail coming from inside the house. She left Ari standing there and ran inside to find Nitsa laying her rotund body across the casket, covering Yia-yia’s with her own.
“Daphne mou, Daphne, my child.” Nitsa sobbed and pounded on her chest with her fist, her black slip tangled up between her legs, exposing her knee-high stockings, her fat knees bulging over the elastic that dug into her flesh.
“It is a black day that you have left this earth, Evangelia. A black, black day. One last hug—one last hug from you, my friend.” Daphne didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as Nitsa hoisted her skirt up farther between her legs so she could lean in to give Yia-yia another hug.
Daphne looked from Nitsa over to Stephen, who was still hovering in the doorway, watching with a mix of wonder and disgust on his face. Surely, Daphne thought, he had never seen anything like this in the proper funerals he had attended back home. But as confused as Stephen seemed to be by the overt displays of grief, Daphne was surprisingly comforted by them. In all these years, she had hated the dramatics of wailing lament songs. But this was different. This time Daphne was just as overwhelmed herself. She too would have beaten her chest, pulled out her hair, clawed at her face, or thrown herself on the casket, if it would only bring Yia-yia back. Daphne finally understood that for these people, mourning was not a contest. There was no prize for the person whose grief outshone others, the one who cried the loudest or beat her chest the hardest. This was emotion, pure unfiltered love and emotion, and it was all they had to offer. They had no money for large charitable donations in Yia-yia’s name; there were no monuments to be built for the simple old woman, no full-page obituaries to buy so everyone could read about her virtues. This was the only way they could honor her; with their emotions, their voices, and their grief. And these things, Daphne realized, were far more precious and meaningful than anything she could imagine.
“Daphne mou. Oh, Daphne, I am so sorry. What will we do without her?” Popi fell into Daphne’s arms. “Look at you. You were supposed to be wearing white, the white of your wedding dress, not dressed in black for mourning.”
“It’s okay, Popi. Don’t worry about me.” She meant to say more, to tell Popi that there would be no wedding, but the touch of a hand on her shoulder made her turn around before she could continue.
“Yianni.” She swayed ever so slightly. Perhaps no one else would have even noticed, but he did. He placed his arm around her waist and steadied her.
“I am so sorry, Daphne.” He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept himself.
“I know.” She looked up at him, his disheveled hair, his gray stubble. She felt comforted by the touch of his hand, as if she knew those hands could support her, could keep her safe. “I know you loved her. She loved you too. You were very special to her.” She made no effort to move away.
“I feel blessed to have known her, Daphne. She changed my life. She gave it meaning.” His dark eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them again, Daphne noticed how red they were, how dark the circles under his eyes appeared. She also couldn’t help but notice that his hand was still around her waist. That fact was not lost on Stephen either, who for the first time that morning entered the room where Yia-yia’s body lay.
“Daphne.” Stephen finally moved from his perch outside the door and entered the room. “Are you all right, honey?”
As if on cue, Yi
anni dropped his arm from Daphne’s waist. “Excuse me,” he said as he walked to the casket. Instantly, the comfort was gone.
Daphne watched as Yianni walked over to Yia-yia and knelt beside her body. He closed his eyes as if in prayer. When he was finished, he leaned in and touched Yia-yia’s hand before whispering something into her ear.
“So are you?” Stephen was speaking to her, but she was so immersed in what Yianni was doing that she didn’t hear what he was saying.
“Am I what?”
“I said, just come spend the night at the hotel with me. There’s no one left to judge you, Daphne.” He put his arm around her waist just as Yianni had done. “Come stay with me.” He tugged her closer.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” she replied. “I want to stay here. I need to be here.” She pulled away from him just slightly. “I need you to understand. I really need you to understand why this is so important to me.”
“I know. But I thought I was important too,” he said before dropping his hand from her waist and walking over again to his perch in the doorway.
Daphne didn’t follow him. She stood and watched as Yianni reached his hand out and lay it on top of Yia-yia’s, smiling down at his dear friend. He leaned in and kissed her one last time. Finally he turned away from the casket. He bent his head to put his cap on, the glistening streak of a single tear sliding down his face.
After a few more hours, the house slowly emptied out. As she walked around the patio, Daphne was struck by how clean and orderly everything was. Each of the women had helped; washing dishes and sweeping the patio so Daphne could focus on her grief and not be distracted by mundane tasks like cleaning and housekeeping. That was the way of the island women. Sure, they might gossip about you behind your back, but when it came to matters like weddings, deaths, and births, they would go to the ends of the earth to help each other, knowing that one day their friends and neighbors would be there for them in their time of need as well.
Daphne walked over to the garden wall, where Evie and Popi sat looking through a stack of old photos.
“You see, Evie,” Popi said as she lifted a faded and yellowed picture and handed it to Evie. “That is your mommy when she was a baby, and her mommy and Yia-yia. Three beautiful and special women.”
Evie and Daphne both leaned in to get a better glimpse of the picture. It was a photo of Daphne in her cradle, Yia-yia and Mama hovering over the sleeping baby with broad, proud smiles on their faces. The picture was taken in the very spot where they sat now. It was just as Yia-yia had described it.
“Can I have this, Mommy?” Evie snatched the photo from Popi’s hand and waved it at her mother. “Can I have it so I can put it in my room? I want to look at it every day so I can remember Yia-yia. Is that okay?”
“Of course you can.” Daphne picked Evie up, balancing the little girl on her hips. “I think that’s a great idea, a perfect idea. So we can both remember Yia-yia and my mama. They were special women, you know, just like you’ll grow up to be.” Daphne hugged Evie closer.
“Just like you, Mommy.” Evie wrapped her arms tighter around her mother’s neck. The photo shook in the breeze that worked its way across the patio.
“Now, honey,” Daphne said as she placed the little girl on the ground once again. “Gather your things; you’re going to spend the night at Thea Popi’s so I can get everything ready for tomorrow, all right?”
“All right, Mommy.” Evie disappeared into the house to grab her bag.
“Cousin, is Stephen going to stay here with you?” Popi asked as she motioned over to Stephen, who was once again talking on his phone on the other side of the patio.
“No, he’ll go back to the hotel. I want to be alone. I need to be alone with Yia-yia. One last time.”
“Of course, Daphne.” Popi reached out to hug her cousin as the tears began again. “I understand, of course you do.” Popi released Daphne from her embrace as Evie came out of the house, carrying her suitcase.
“Ready, honey?” Daphne asked as she kissed her daughter good night.
Popi and the little girl walked hand in hand across the patio. Once they reached the gate, Evie reached her little hand out to pull it open—but suddenly released it. The gate slammed shut as Evie raced across the patio and fell again into her mother’s arms.
“Evie, honey.” Daphne tucked a curl behind Evie’s ears. “Evie, what is it?”
“Thank you, Mommy.” Evie hugged Daphne tighter. “Thank you for sharing Yia-yia and her island with me, even if it was for just a little while.”
Thirty-six
Daphne pulled a single chair from the table and placed it beside the casket. The room was aglow with the soft golden light of a dozen or so candles scattered about. As Daphne looked down at Yia-yia’s still face, she noticed how the light of the candles cast a warm glow on Yia-yia’s skin. She looked alive, healthy, sleeping. Daphne prayed the luminosity of Yia-yia’s complexion could be more than a mere optical illusion. But she knew that once the flames of the candles were extinguished, so too would be any illusions that the blood in her veins ran warm, that her beloved Yia-yia was merely resting.
She sat like that for a long time, never taking her eyes off her grandmother, conjuring up cherished memories of their time together, each remembrance more precious than the last. Time seemed to evaporate in the haze of candlelight, reminiscences, and tears. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, but she had just gotten out of her chair and reached for another tissue when she thought she heard a noise. She stopped, sat silently, and waited. Within seconds she heard it again. It was a soft tapping on the door, as if someone wanted to knock, but was unsure if they should intrude. Daphne stood and walked toward the door. She didn’t have to open it to know who she would find on the other side.
She smiled, pulling back the door to reveal him standing there. “Yianni.”
“I don’t mean to intrude.” He removed his fisherman’s cap. “I imagined you would stay with her. And I wanted to make sure you were all right, that you didn’t need anything,” he explained, still standing just outside. “But I see that you are, so I should just go,” he stammered as he took a small step backward.
She leaned out across the threshold and grabbed his arm before he could go. “No. Stay. Here.” She released his arm and moved aside to let him pass. “Come inside.”
“I don’t want to disturb you, Daphne.”
“You’re not disturbing me. She’d want you here. Please, come in.” She motioned him into the room and closed the door behind him.
They sat silently at first, each lost in private thoughts and favorite memories of Yia-yia. After a while, Daphne was the first to speak. “I didn’t know what to make of you at first, Yianni. I mean, there you were, this menacing madman with a kaiki.” She turned toward him and laughed. “But then I saw you with Yia-yia, and I saw something else. I saw how much you meant to her. I saw how much she loved you.” Daphne bit her lip to keep from crying again. “I never said this before. But thank you—thank you for taking such good care of her, even when I couldn’t. Even when I didn’t.”
He removed his right hand from his jacket pocket and placed it on the edge of the casket, clutching it with such strength that Daphne watched his fingers turn red, then white.
“I loved her like my own grandmother, you know. I failed my own family, Daphne. I was too selfish, too caught up in my own dreams to realize that my grandmother had hers as well.” He nodded toward the casket and then turned to face Daphne. “She worried about you, Daphne. She told me many times how she was afraid that you had lost yourself in your grief. That losing your young man and your parents had weighed down your heart with far too heavy a burden for a young girl to manage. She understood why you couldn’t come back, even if I could not. She understood how you became a prisoner to your loss, how debilitating it was for you. But she knew you would come back. As sick as she was, Daphne, she knew she had to wait for you to come back.”
“She waited for me?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying she knew she was dying. But she refused to let go until she’d spent one final summer with you. The doctors never expected her to make it through the night, let alone get well enough to come home. But she did. She waited for you.”
Daphne stood. She walked over to Yia-yia’s casket. Clutching the wood, she leaned in to touch her grandmother’s folded hands.
“You waited for me.” She stroked her grandmother’s cool cheek. “I’m sorry, Yia-yia. I’m so sorry I took so long.”
Yianni ran his fingers up and down his beard, uncertain of what to say or do next. He looked lost and out of his element, like a fish that had escaped from his very own net and now sat helplessly flopping on the kaiki deck. Daphne had a sudden urge to make him feel at ease, to comfort him, as he had done to her.
“Yianni, I have to tell you something.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I heard it.”
She turned to face him, but he was already gone. Yianni had slipped out of the door and into the night.
Thirty-seven
The following morning, the entire island gathered once again, this time to say a final good-bye to Yia-yia. The tiny church was packed. There were no pews or air-conditioning in the old Greek Orthodox church. But Daphne didn’t mind standing side by side, shoulder to shoulder in the oppressive heat with the friends and family who had loved Yia-yia so deeply. Today, it felt like an honor.
When the Cypress Whispers Page 27