“That’s too long!”
“Gabriel, let’s see how things go. I may have a holiday in October, but it’s only a long weekend, and I can’t imagine spending that much money for a few days.”
“Okay, I can wait until November. I will wait for you, Thair.”
When he says this, for some reason, I believe him.
Halfway back, we see a rest stop on the side of the road that has a mini-mart and a tavern on the other side. We pull up on the dirt road and park in front of a mom-and-pop restaurant that has blue and white tablecloths, a thatched roof with grape vines growing insanely in all directions that creates shade for the tables.
We sit down, order a few souvlakia, some tzatziki, and a horiatiki. A friendly black cat tickles my legs, begging for some love. I lower my hand and scratch his head with my nails as Gabriel takes out his cigarettes.
“Do you mind if I smoke?’
I pause. “I guess not.”
“It molests you that I smoke, yes, Thair?”
“Honestly, yes, but I won’t try to change you. I just wish you would read how awful it is for you, and … if we were to ever be together … I would not be okay with smoking in the house.”
As I say this, he smiles. “So you imagine us in a house one day together?”
“Maybe … ” In a non-sequitur manner, I ask, “So you had a good time?
“Yes, for sure, but let me ask you,” he pauses and puffs, “tell me three of your favorite things about Greece. Then I will tell you what I think also.”
“Okay, but you say one, then I’ll say one.” I reply.
“Yes, I will start … I really like the Acropolis and the Parthenon so much. The tour guide told us how all the pillars are a bit curving, but when people look at them, the pillars are straight, perfect from every side. Even if they are not really perfect,” he says this while overtly looking at me up and down with a smirk.
“Ha ha. Good one. I agree; that is, with the Parthenon, but let me choose another. I really loved Meteora. By the way, have you heard of Linkin Park?’
“No, is it a president park in America?”
I giggle, “No, it’s a band, my favorite actually. I’ll send you a CD. One of their albums is called Meteora.”
“How cool. Okay, so your choice is Meteora?”
I picture my three choices instantaneously, so I reply, “No, actually, I am going to change. My first will be the water in Greece. For me, the most beautiful places in Greece are the beaches on the islands with their clear, icy blue waters. There’s a place in Kythnos too, about a half hour drive from where my yiayia had her summer house, where there is a little peninsula, and at certain times of the day, the water is so blue, it’s almost unreal.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing. I would love to see it one day …”
“Okay, your turn now.”
“My second is Metsovo. I had no idea places like that existed in Greece. If it was not for my Thair, I would not have been there. I really liked it.”
“That’s sweet, Gabriel. I thought it was amazing too, and it’s the first place we … never mind.” I find myself getting a wee bit shy, “Okay, my second choice is the Greek tomato. In the US, I rarely eat tomatoes even the organic ones. They are just so tasteless. My yiayia grew the most delicious tomatoes; compared to tomatoes in other parts of the world, Greek tomatoes are so rich in flavor. So my second choice is the red, Greek tomato!” I say this as I stick my fork in the village salad and put a huge piece of the red fruit in my mouth! “Yum!”
Then Gabriel says, “That is my second choice!”
“The tomatoes?” I gurgle, trying to speak while eating.
“Well, no, not the tomatoes, but all the food. The souvlakia with gyros, the tyropitas with ham and cheese, the meat at El Camino, the pastichio we had last night, even the … how do you say? The koko-retsi—it’s all SO good!” He says this while rubbing his tummy. “I know, for sure, I put on at least five kilos this month! And it makes me very satisfied,” he looks down and laughs, “but I need to go back to the gym when I get back to Peru! Okay, your turn now! Last one …”
I sit there and think; there are so many things I love about Greece, where to begin? But the truth is three things did pop in my mind when he asked the question, and the third is sickly romantic, but—what the hell! I look over at Gabriel, take his hand, “My third favorite thing is … you. You in Greece. Meeting you has definitely brought out all the things I love about this country. It just seems with you the blue of the water is clearer, the red in the tomatoes is deeper, and the light in my soul is whiter.” After I say this, I almost make myself gag. It’s so cheesy, but being so wrapped up in this genuine emotion, the words keep tumbling out. These must be the kinds of things people say when they are alone together and really in love. I just never believed I would be on one side of it.
Gabriel doesn’t say anything; he just scoots his chair closer and gives me a long kiss. “That is my choice, too. You.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease, “that’s not what you were going to say …”
“Okay, maybe not exactly.” His eyebrows lifting, “I was going to say something strong …”
This time my heart doesn’t start a romantic pitter-patter because I know Gabriel’s strong comments usually imply something else.
“Can I say my strong comment?”
“Sure, why not?” I say with a half-smile, ready for anything.
“Okay my three favorite thing in Greece was waking up and seeing you on the floor doing that funny dog thing with your tremendous, beautiful butt in the air!”
We both laugh loudly as the cat meows.
We arrive in Kamena Vourla in the late afternoon and, despite being tired, I am imagining the wonderful evening we will have. I am looking forward to some fresh fish at one of the harborside restaurants and maybe a few drinks at the pub. Then a night of lovemaking, and I will tell him that I can drive him to Athens. A few more hours together, a few more stolen moments. I also have to figure out how to get him into my room since I’ll be breaking Kyria Akrivi’s Rule Number Five!
We barely pull up into the driveway when Kyria Akrivi runs out of the house and towards the car. Oh shoot she is going to tell me that Gabriel can’t stay even before I get the chance to sneak him up into my room. Gabriel looks a bit uncomfortable, sitting a bit lower in his seat when she hurries toward us.
“Tell her I am helping you with your bags and then I leave.”
“Don’t worry.” I place my hand on his thigh and smile inwardly, thinking the whole situation a bit infantile.
But then my world changes.
Just the look on her face tells me everything will no longer be right in my universe.
She speaks quickly, eating her words, using some village slang, but before I can digest all the information, she wraps her arms around me, holds me tightly, lovingly. But like a fish I am gutted; Amphitrite, goddess of the sea, has pierced me, taken out all my organs and thrown me on the shore.
“Thair, what is happening? Talk to me.”
I am shaking all over, I feel faint, and my legs are liquid. Gabriel holds me up when Kyria Akrivi lets me go. She pulls up a chair that is close by and pushes me into it. My hands are gripping my thighs with such vigor that I don’t notice what has happened: one of my fingernails has flipped back and my finger is bleeding. A pulsing sensation, but I can’t locate where the pain is coming from. Maybe my heart? I can’t see in front of me, my vision blurry, I think I am crying, but I am not sure.
The woman starts talking again, but this time the words are a bit clearer. “Then ine pethameni akoma. I thea su ipe pou prepi na tin paris telefono amesos. Omos then ine pethameni. M’akous? Zi! Akoma zi!” She says this with so much enthusiasm that all I can hold onto are the words, “Alive. She’s still alive.”
Gabriel, has bent down on his knees and looks absolutely desperate, wanting to soothe my suffering, but doesn’t understand the cause. He does not understand that this woman has just told me tha
t my mother is on her deathbed.
32
Saturday, July 30th
My flight is four hours earlier than his, but Gabriel goes through customs at the same time, so he can see me off. Yesterday I called the US and found my aunt there. My mother is barely conscious. My aunt was stoic and gave me a few details. Mama was frail when I left, but she told me she was still recovering from last year’s shock because the situation with me and Jessica had taken a toll on her. I was certain she was trying to make me feel guilty by no longer dying her hair, staying thinner than normal. She had looked so weathered the last time I saw her, but I thought she was still silently punishing me for my last relationship, showing me how it had permanently aged her. I always asked about her checkups, and she always told me everything came back clean. Had she been blatantly lying to me? And why hadn’t I asked to see the results? God how I hate myself at this moment.
And while I have been in Greece, the communication has gotten worse and worse. After the first week, she couldn’t talk on the phone; a simple cold, she said, made it hard to talk. Then only short emails! It is now all falling into place. My God, how could I have been so blind?
Honey, go have a good time. Don’t worry about me. The kind words. The tighter than usual hugs. I had not heard her voice for more than five weeks, but because I was so wrapped up in my own life, I hadn’t tried to call again except once when I needed her. How I despise myself right now. And how long had Thea Lena been there? And how long had my mama known? But damn it! Why didn’t she tell me? I would have never planned a trip to Greece if I had known she was sick again.
I would never have come to Greece. I would never have met Gabriel. My God, how could I even be thinking about my love life while my mother lay in her home, being eaten away by that god-awful disease. Tears fill my eyes again while a cacophony of diatribes against myself fills my head.
Gabriel is holding me tight as we sit at the gate, but, suddenly, I’m suffocating, so I wiggle out of his embrace. He looks like a hurt puppy. I could give a shit. My God, my mother is dying; I have no patience to baby this man.
“Gabriel, I need to say good-bye. I can’t have you wait here until the last moment. It’s too much for me right now.”
Another hurt, desperate look. “Okay, Thair. I understand.” NO, you don’t understand, I want to scream at the top of my lungs. How could you even begin to understand? You have a mother! A father! Four sisters! You have a family! All I have is my mother! She is my family! She is my everything! My God, my God … I need space. I need to breathe … I can’t see …
I am now lying across the seats and everyone is staring. I have a cool rag on my forehead and a foul-smelling piece of cotton stuffed under my nose. There are a few people in uniforms around me. I can hear a buzz of words. Gabriel tells them I am okay, just in a bit of shock, that I got some bad news, that I will be fine. I will not be fine, but I understand what he is doing: assure the flight attendants, allow me to fly.
After a few minutes, the crowd scatters and he is sitting beside me, holding the cotton close to my face. I slowly sit up and take it from him, “Thanks.”
“Thair, I don’t know what to say. I hurt to see you this way. I wish I could take away your pain. Please, tell me, what I can do?”
“Gabriel, there is nothing you can do. Thank you for being here. But I need you to go now.” I look away as tears pool in my eyes. This time I am not crying for my mother. I am crying for him. I want him. I need him. I know how to be alone. I know I am strong, capable, but, God, it would be so nice if I stumbled upon The One, the one to provide me support in times like this. But I am flying to my country, and he to his. He will not be there to hold my hand, carry me in my darkest hour; he will never meet my mama. My God, he will never meet my mother! The only one who has loved me my whole life. He will never see her dark eyes, her brilliant smile. And she will never watch me walk down the aisle, a dream that she has had for years that I could have made a reality for her. I would even wear the damn white dress if she wouldn’t … I can’t think the word.
My emotions are everywhere; now the thought sets in again in a much more melancholic manner: Gabriel will never meet my mother, and she will never meet him. The chances of it happening anyway were probably unlikely, but now they are inconceivable.
He looks into my eyes, offering a small, weak smile, “Thair, your plane does not leave for one hour and a half. I will stay. You cannot tell me to go. I will not go.”
When he says this, I finally allow the tears to empty freely from my eyes. It was what my heart really wanted to hear, so I rest my head on his shoulder and cry and cry and cry. And cry. There is no one else in the world at that moment, just me and Gabriel. I am suspended in hell with an angel at my side. Maybe people are looking; I do not care. Gabriel holds me while I tremble and sob, and when it is time to go, he takes his hand and places it under my chin and gives me a kiss, lightly licking my lips, drinking my tears. “Thair, this will be hard for you. But I will call you. You will see. I will help you with this. Te quiero un monton.”
He helps me to my feet as we embrace for a last time. The ground below me disappears and I am getting sucked into a wormhole, losing my stability, feeling a bit dizzy again—but only for a moment; then I rebalance, and Gabriel steadies me. I hold on tight, not wanting to let him go, but it’s time.
“Gabriel, thank you for everything. I … I … I will miss you. Good-bye.”
I have read about this feeling but never really believed it existed. As I walk through the gate, a piece of my heart is ripped out of my chest: the mighty hand of Zeus works his fingers through every muscle fiber, into the rib cage, finds the beating sack and squeezes it until I gasp. I have no breath left, but I am still alive. I also have no choice but to follow my legs that are moving forward.
I don’t look back.
Rancho Fierno
Saturday, July 30th
I gained a day in flight but lost so much. Rick meets me at the airport, and as soon as I see him, there’s some small sense of relief. He hugs me tightly and a new waterfall of tears emerges from my swollen eyes. From Athens all the way to New York, all I did was look out of a black window and sob. There were moments when my eyes dried up, but as I closed them, a new set of tears found their way out. The poor lady beside me didn’t know what to do, what to make of this sorry case that was huddled in the corner. At one point, she called over the flight attendant and asked if there was something they could give me. The flight attendant spoke sweetly, and I tried to take control of myself, but I had no control. On the connecting flight, a young man to my left offered me a sleeping pill; he said it would help me relax. I declined, but the quiet tears would not stop. Finally, out of pure exhaustion, sleep must have come.
Rick takes me immediately to Rancho Fierno, and on the way, we barely talk. He tries to ask me a few questions, but I have no words in me. I am anxious, nervous, and so afraid. When we get to the house, it looks so dark and foreboding. Rick tells me he can come in with me, and I say, yes, that would be nice.
At the front door, after a couple of light raps, I pull out my set of keys. A figure is behind the dark glass, so before I can get my key in the lock, my Thea Lena has opened the door. She is wearing an olivegreen dress that has spaghetti straps, and her hair looks disheveled. Her face is rosy, and she looks young, vibrant; it’s just the sadness in her eyes that brings me back to reality.
“Ti kanis, koukla?” She asks me how I am while stretching out her arms. I hug her, and we kiss on both cheeks, all in one very loving moment.
“How is Mama?” I plead.
A slight pause then, “Not well. Do you want to see her?”
I nod.
“Please be prepared—” She takes my hand and leads me to my mama. A young, thick, redheaded woman sits in the corner of my mother’s bedroom reading a magazine. She gently excuses herself when we walk in. I see something in the bed, but I don’t recognize it. It looks like a strange doll, an emaciated porcelain figure that
is not beautiful, not frightening, just not of this world.
“Mama?” I lean down. “Mama?”
“Thair, you can talk to her, but she hasn’t responded since yesterday. Mary is here from Scripps Hospice. Your mama had been waking up … screaming … so Mary is giving her Demerol to lessen her pain.”
My dear, fragile mother waking up screaming? Acid burns my insides, but before I can say anything Thea Lena continues: “They tell us … it can happen any day now.”
Suddenly, I am infuriated. How could this happen so quickly! I have only been gone for just more than a month and she wasn’t even sick when I left! I have no tears just uncontained anger. I grab my aunt’s hand and storm out of the room. Tell me what happened? When did she get sick again? How long have you been here? Where is the cancer? What medicine is she taking? Why are you saying that SHE IS DYING? She will be fine! We will do alternative therapy! We will take her to a specialized center! NO! NO! NO! Don’t say that! My God! NO!
Rick hears all the screaming and comes into the kitchen and tries to approach me, but I push him away. My aunt stands there and tries to explain, but her face looks pale and clammy now.
“Koukla, please sit down. This is hard on all of us. I love my sister very much—”
“How can you say you love her and not allow her daughter to be with her! Why didn’t you call me earlier and what about those emails?”
“Thair, I wrote them, but you have to understand, even if I didn’t agree with what your mother was doing, it was her choice.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HER CHOICE? HER CHOICE TO DIE?”
“Yes, if you want to look at it that way. It was her choice to die. At least to die this way. With dignity. She called the place you were staying a few weeks ago when she had taken a turn for the worse and talked to a Kyria Akrivi because you were out. The woman said you seemed so peaceful, so happy, so she didn’t tell the woman why she had called. Your mother was adamant that I should not tell you to return.”
The Greek Persuasion Page 31