28
Monday, July 25th
It’s about 10:00 a.m. and I just don’t want to get up. I drank a lot of water last night, so I feel fine, except for an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I watched Gabriel for about an hour last night, from my rooftop, after our date. When I first came in, after leaving Gabriel at the entrance of Kyria Akrivi’s building, I washed my face, put on a long T-shirt to sleep in, but something was drawing me to go outside. I walked out onto my rooftop, and saw Gabriel still sitting on the lounge chair with his eyes wide open, hands behind his head, just staring up into the luminous sky. I was so tempted to go back down, but for the first time in my life, I did not want sex from a man I most definitely desired. Was I, Ms. Feminist, forward-thinking, gotta-break-down-years of enculturation in women’s attitudes, acting in some traditional, subservient, Goody-Two-Shoes way? Did I think withholding sex from him would make him want me more? This is what my brain kept asking, but it was not that easy to rationalize. It just felt right not to sleep with him. Yes, I could still have wild nights and the occasional one-night stand, but my sex was sacred, and once in a while—like this certain full moon night in the little village of Kamena Vourla—I did want it to count for more than a romp in the sheets. I wanted to remember the kisses, the conversation, not a great orgasm.
The more I tried to analyze this strange shift of feelings, from liberalism to traditionalism, from freedom of body to appreciation of soul, the more I came back to the simple fact: it felt right to stop there.
As I lie here in bed, I can’t stop thinking about him and our date last night, so I get up to find my faithful friend.
Thair’s Story
Sunday, July 24th, 8 p.m.
Thair tried on the only nice thing she had brought: her favorite black slip dress. Simple, sophisticated, just below the knee, a dress that hugged her curves and was quite flattering, but it was also the same dress she was wearing the night Gabriel had first seen her, the night when she was slightly inebriated taking care of a young, drunk British girl. Would he remember? And did it even matter?
She put it on and looked in the mirror, but something just wasn’t right. Taking it off she saw her jean skirt, also somewhat sophisticated because of the A-line cut, dark jean fabric, and just-above the knee length. Holding it up against her, she thought, no, it wasn’t right either. Finally, she saw her faded 501 Levi’s (the same brand she wore in high school) and put them on with a simple white Anne Klein V-neck T-shirt. This was it. It looked simple, relaxed. She slipped on a pair of platform espadrilles and large silver hoop earrings (she never got over this ’80s fashion), and the outfit was complete.
Thair had told Gabriel that she would meet him at the restaurant. They had gone back and forth because he wanted to pick her up, but she flatly refused. When walking gaily through town, she heard “Thair! Thair!” Oh goodness, she thought, it was the Brits.
“Hey, Prof!” David said and wrapped his arms around Thair, giving her a big hug.
Kelly also hugged her in a tender, almost-daughterly way, “Thanks for the other night, and I’m sorry it was such a drag for you.”
“No, it was fun.” Thair could not believe she had just said that. Fun? Then she noticed that they both had their backpacks stuffed to the rim and that Kelly’s, literally one half the size of her, sat beside a lamppost on the floor.
“So, Prof, we had a wicked time getting to know you, and if you are ever in London, do look us up. You can stay with us for free. We never did get to repay you for the other night.”
“That’s fine. It was nice getting to know you both, too.” And she did mean it. They were happy souls, good people.
David handed her a piece of paper with what looked like two email addresses on it and said cheerfully, “Here’s our contact info. Don’t hesitate to write, okay?”
She grabbed the crumpled paper, and even though these two kind-hearted kids didn’t really fit into her real world, she gave them her email address too. “So you two are off to Ios?”
“Actually, there’s been a change of plans. Remember those Americans we met the other night? They say that Skiathos, an island that we can get to by taking a short ferry ride from the next town over, is raging cool, so we’re heading there first, and we’ll hook up with those guys tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow night? Why was this information so surprisingly disheartening? Of course, Thair could care less about the Americans, but Gabriel was going with them. ‘Tomorrow night,’ the words kept ringing in her ear. A fish was swimming in her gut. Where were these tumultuous emotions coming from? She had met this man less than forty-eight hours earlier, and he was already making her stomach do uncomfortable flips.
While Thair stood there thinking, David reached over and gave her another tight hug.
“Well, have a good time you two. David, take care of this precious lass. And not too many drinks for you, okay, Kelly?”
She batted her eyelashes, hugs were given all around again, and then they were gone. By tomorrow night, they would all be on a picturesque island, and she would be here with her beloved books, her yoga, her laptop, and her waiter, Kyrie Thanassis. Of course, she could go if she wanted to. She was sure Gabriel wouldn’t mind; she had no lease, no obligations, but the more she thought about leaving her tranquil setting, the more she realized the last thing she wanted was to go party. Her crazy contemplations were really only about spending more time with Gabriel. With a physical shake, as if to shed her foolishness, she decided, no more thinking, just enjoy tonight.
After walking at a steady pace for about fifteen minutes, she reached the end of town and could see El Camino in the distance. The restaurant’s structure was on the left side of the street, but like all cafés and restaurants on this main avenue, it had tables on the beach side. She imagined how tough it was for the waiters to have to cross the street for every order, especially on Friday and Saturday night when the road was bumper to bumper with cars. But they managed skillfully, trays adroitly balanced above their heads as they crossed, one hand extended telling the cars to stop as they practically walked right into the vehicles. But it seemed to work. Greek efficiency.
Her steps grew a little longer, her palms a bit sweatier, when she saw Gabriel at a table. She loved this feeling of excitement but feared it simultaneously because feelings of elation never lasted long for her.
Gabriel sat comfortably at the table looking out onto the water. He looked too handsome for words: a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, faded blue jeans and a black belt and shoes. He turned and saw her, standing up right away and kissing her on the cheek. Pulling out her chair, he waited until her bottom hit the seat, helped her with it, a final push, and she was close to the table.
“Hola, Thair.”
“Hola, Gabriel,” she responded practicing her Spanish.
“So how was your afternoon?”
“It was wonderful. Kyria Akrivi made stuffed tomatoes with ground beef and rice with oven-roasted potatoes on the side.” As she said this, she could see him licking his lips like he always did when food was discussed. “Then I read a bit after lunch.”
“Then what you did?”
“Well, I took a nap, then woke up and edited some stuff I had written.”
“What is it that you write? A diary?”
A woman in her late thirties writing in a “diary,” but it was more than a diary. These were her stories, reflections, a third-person quasi-memoir, maybe something to publish one day … and what better way to understand life? Foucault and Aristotle both agreed that writing is therapeutic.
But instead of explaining any of this to Gabriel, Thair simply responded with, “Yeah, I guess you could call it a diary.”
“Tell me more about this diary.” He seemed genuinely interested, so she continued.
“Well, the last time I was in Greece, five years ago, I started writing these stories. I started it with my yiayia’s, my grandmother’s, life and how she met my grandfather. I wro
te it the way I remembered it, and then it’s about my mom and dad. And now it’s about me. Gosh, I am probably boring you—”
“No, please, please talk.”
“Are you sure?” He nodded. “So the first two parts are done, now I’m finishing the part called Thair’s Story.”
“So, what do you write in this diary?”
“Things about Zeus and how he’s a really awful god,” she said facetiously.
Gabriel looked confused. “I do not understand.”
“I’ll explain some other time,” Thair said though she never planned to tell him that horrific myth. But then added, “I guess I just write about life and relationships.”
“It is about love?”
“Isn’t everything?” Thair paused, then continued: “I want to finish it soon and release myself from this story because it’s been haunting me for years. My goal is that by the end of the year, it will be done. Finished. Finito.”
The waiter had passed by several times not wanting to interrupt, but finally asked if they would like drinks to start. Gabriel handed Thair the wine list and asked if she wanted to share a bottle. Thair loved red wine, but on such a hot evening, Chardonnay would probably be better. But then Gabriel said, “We get red wine?”
“Sure. Why don’t you choose?”
“Okay.”
He chose a red and when it was served, the bottle came to the table chilled. Normally Thair would hate red wine cold, but here it was perfect. Just perfect.
“Thair, you eat meat, yes?”
“Yes. In fact, the tenderloin with fettuccini looks yummy.”
“No!” Gabriel says.
“No, I shouldn’t order that?” She wondered if he didn’t like the fact that it was the most expensive item on the menu.
Then another chuckle. “Oh no, I meant, that is what I will order, too. See Thair? We think the same.”
“Should I get something different then, so we can share?” she asked.
“What about other meat dish with wine sauce and potatoes?” he responded.
“Sounds good to me. Rare?”
“That’s not cooked a lot, right?” he replied.
“Yes.”
“Good. I like it that way, too. And Thair, we must save space in our stomach because they have a dessert that is my favorite in all the world now. I got it to-go when I saw it that night.”
Better than an ekmek she pondered. Couldn’t be. “What is it?”
“It’s called panna cotta. Have you ever try it before?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, you will love it! You will see! Now salud!” The wine was poured, their hands were in the air when Gabriel said, “To pretty Thair, to rica comida, and … to us.” While the word ‘us’ passed his lips, he winked.
Thair lifted her glass and said, “One more.” Glasses were raised again, “And belated feliz cumpleaños, Gabriel!” she said with a horrible American accent.
Gabriel didn’t drink. He just sat there and stared at her. His voice was low when he finally spoke, “Thair. Gracias… gracias for remembering. You are so nice. So, so nice.” He just looked into her eyes without a single movement.
Thair did not expect Gabriel to be so moved. She almost regretted saying it, but the awkward silence finally passed with the clink of their glasses.
“So tell me about your family, Thair. You have a big family?”
“No, it’s really just me and my mom. My mom has a sister that she loves dearly, but unfortunately, they hardly see each other since my aunt lives in London. She does visit San Diego once every few years.”
“And you? Brothers? Sisters?”
“Nope. My mom lost a baby girl a few years after me in her fifth month of pregnancy. It would have been nice to have a sister, but it never happened. Just me and my mama.”
“Your mother is Greek. I remember you say today at the beach.”
“Yes, but for some reason, she has few ties to Greece, doesn’t love it like I do.” Then Thair told Gabriel all about her yiayia and the summers she spent on the island of Kythnos. She also, remarkably, told Gabriel about her father. Everything. How he left. How he called periodically. How she finally forgave him. How he continued to visit her a few times a year. That there were no ill feelings anymore, that it was what it was.
The more she talked, the better he listened; leaning in, eyebrows lifting, tilting his head, nodding, agreeing, sighing. It seemed he was hanging on her every word, laughing when needed, consoling eyes when she told him about her mother’s cancer, a soft hand reaching across the table, holding hers tightly.
It might have been the two glasses of wine, but she could not stop talking. At one point, the expulsion of emotions was overwhelming; she needed to come up for air, “Gosh, I have been talking so much about myself. I’m sorry. Please. Tell me about your family. Do you have brothers? Sisters?”
A wide smile crossed his face. “Brothers? No, not one. But I wish. Sisters? Too many! Too many women in my life!” Then he laughed. Thair wondered what he meant by that, but he quickly explained. “I have four sisters, two grandmothers, and a mother who never leaves her hijito alone. And more tias than a guy should have. My dad is a quiet man. I guess he has to be with all this woman around!”
“So, are you the oldest, in the middle?”
“I am the baby of the family. I was an ‘oooops,’ I think you say in America. You know. Not planned. My one sister was married and gone when I born. My littlest sister was five when I born. She used to dress me up with dresses and put bows in my hair.” He chuckled. No gender identity problem here, Thair thought. “I guess she believed I was her doll.”
“How old were you when she did this to you?”
“For as long I can remember!” Another hearty laugh. “At least until I was seven. One day I answered the door with a … those feather things that wrap around your neck.”
“A feather boa?”
“Yes, I think that is the name. One of those on me and with a pink skirt and heels. Oh, and some pink lip paint. My father heard from my mother what happened and came home and beat me with a belt and told my sisters to never do that again to me; otherwise they get the belt, too. I tried to tell him that I didn’t mind, that we just playing, but he said I grow up to be a maricon if I didn’t stop it.” Thair assumed, rightly so, that maricon was a derogatory word like faggot.
“How silly, don’t you think?” Gabriel continued. “A boy playing with dolls or dressing up will change and turn into a homosexual? I don’t care what my dad say about this things. I have gay friends, you know. I just don’t care.”
Thair could not believe how open-minded this very masculine Latino man was. Was this for real? “So did your friends ever know that your sisters dressed you up?”
“Ha! Are you serious? No way! I would get my butt kicked if they know!” In between the laughter a moment of seriousness took over, “I just was making my sister happy. It was no big deal. I think too many people make a big deal of things.” Then he sat up tall, “I tell you something, but no laugh. Okay? When we were in Roma, I tell my buddies, I can’t remember why, that my dad and I cuddle when I was in high school.”
“Cuddle? What do you mean by cuddle?” Thair became skeptical.
“Yes, like lay on the bed together, watch TV, hug.”
“Hug?”
“Thair! Now you are looking at me like Bob and Jake! That is what I mean! In my culture, you can be an adult and still show love to your parents. In America, you all think everything is weird.”
“I’m sorry. I guess it does seem a bit strange to me. To imagine two grown men, lying on a bed together, hugging.”
“But why? He is my father! I was telling you because I thought you would understand since you are Greek; Latinos are warm. But you are making big deal like them.” His eyes dropped. Gabriel started eating and stopped talking. Was this a moment of grumpiness? As he started eating, his facial expression turned drawn and long.
Thair could see that thi
s was not going well. Her culture had taught her that these things were weird, wrong (maybe even incestuous). For the first time in years, she felt like she was the student being pushed to be more open-minded. Was this how her students felt? Her comfort zones were being tested, and it was no fun. Maybe that’s how her right-wing students felt when she pushed the lines of “normality” for them, talking about gay people being parents or wanting to get married legally.
Finally, after a few bites and too much silence, she apologized. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I guess I do need to see this through another lens. I’m sorry. Really. Please, do tell me more about your sisters.” She almost added: Did Dad cuddle with them too? But decided against it since this entire discussion was challenging her limits of social behavior, and she really didn’t want to continue to offend him.
Looking up from his food, his eyes were hesitant but genuine. “Okay.”
Thair felt a tenderness like she never had before, almost as if she wanted to protect him. “I think it’s lovely that your family is so close. Please, Gabriel, tell me more.”
Thair leaned in, and with Gabriel’s giant grin, it was clear that his mood had shifted, “So, my sisters, they are good woman. The oldest has two kids, so I am a tio and love it!” His face lit up, “They are tremendous kids. Her boy, Francisco, is seven and the girl, Daniela, is five. She is so cute,” his eyes raised when he said their names and a new smile was born.
Thair’s first thought was, oh no, he loves kids. And, then, what did he want from this life? And, most importantly, why was she allowing herself to think about such serious matters on what was, essentially, a first and final date?
Ensnared by her thoughts, she missed something he was saying, so trying to refocus: she heard: “ … three sisters are professionals. Two are doctors. Mariela, the pediatra, is the one with the two kids. My other sister is a teacher at the school I work at and single, and the last one is an artist, so she lives everywhere. Right now, she is in New York with a Venezuelan boyfriend.”
The Greek Persuasion Page 25