A Life In A Moment (3 page)

I shot to
my feet, and to the window, where I looked at the lighthouse. I had
to fill it in on my life. But it was still daytime. Even if it heard
me, it couldn’t answer with its three flashes, as it did at
night.

I kept
silent. I turned my eyes to the sea, which looked like a sheet of
blue cardboard, unwavering and motionless. I made boats out of the
thoughts that besieged me and threw them into the sea, in hopes of
making waves, giving it some tension. Only in this way could the sea
feel my disorderly heart.

What could
their names be? What kind of people were they? What became of them? I
looked upon these questions like islands and peninsulas, with my
thoughts like boats sailing around them, not knowing where to anchor.
Until I learnt the truth, until the secret emerging from the dark was
laid bare, those boats could only anchor far offshore.

6

«Vassilis,
wake up», I heard a voice say.

I tried to
open my eyes, but in vain. My siesta always sunk me into inertia.

«Mum
was worried and she sent me here to check if you’re alright»,
Natalia explained.

When I
managed to open my eyes, I looked at her and hugged her tightly, like
I had long been marooned in the attic and Natalia was my rescuer.
Without saying a word, I turned to the bedside table. The box was
still there.

So, it
was not a dream.

I took out
the photo featuring the four members of my family and showed it to
her. «This is my family, Natalia. This couple are your aunt and
uncle, the baby is me and the boy next to me is my brother. Your
cousin.»

She held
the photo and looked at it in the same way I did for the first time.

«How
beautiful your mother is!»

I looked
at her and wondered aloud:

«Is?
Or was?»

«I
don’t know, Vassilis. My mum wanted to speak to you first, so
we better get going. It’s time for you to learn the truth.»

It was
already dark when we got home. My aunt was waiting in the living
room. «Vassilis, my boy, I was so worried!» she cried and
gave me a hug.

I was not
alone in that embrace. She also made space for her remorse at keeping
the secret for so long.

«I’ll
tell you the whole story...»

She held
the box and went to the kitchen. I followed suit. I knew this
conversation was ours alone.

«Please,
my boy, close the door.»

She sat at
the table, waiting for me to sit opposite her. She opened the box,
took out its contents and placed everything in order on the table.
She first chose the photo of my parents just after their wedding.

«These
two, as you’ve already realised, are your parents. Your mother,
Penelope, and your father, Robert. I don’t know if you’ve
already guessed by his looks... He was not Greek. He was English.»

I was
shocked, not because of his nationality or because I myself was
half-English. It was the tense of the verb she had used.

Was
.

Without
stopping, she took the next photo and continued her story — or
rather, mine.

«I’m
sure you’ve already figured this out as well... This baby is
your brother, Pavlos, a few months after his birth», she said
showing me the photo.

She then
took the one with all four of us. She lingered over it without
speaking.

«Aunt…»

«Yes»,
she said and coughed. «Here, my boy, all of you are together,
one month after you were born. Pavlos is thirteen.»

I
discerned emotion and nostalgia in her voice. Probably some pain, as
well. It didn’t take much to understand what had become of my
folks. But I wanted to ask, simply because I wanted to clear all
doubts. I still held out hope. «So, what happened to them?»

«Don’t
rush, Vassilis. We’ll start from the beginning and slowly come
to that», she replied.

I knew the
story would be long. What else could it be?

«Well,
your parents met here — while your father was on holiday,
thirty years ago — and they fell in love. Although your grandpa
dreaded the prospect of his daughter following Robert to England, he
eventually gave his consent for their marriage.»

»A
year later, Pavlos was born and after two years — when your
grandpa died —, your mother, Robert and I took over the
restaurant. I hadn’t met your uncle, yet.»

»At
first, things were great. It was an easier, happier time. After
eleven years, though, when I married your uncle, things got tough. We
couldn’t live on the money we made from the restaurant. Your
father pressed Penelope to move to England. He wanted to go back to
his homeland, and the fact that here we were in dire straits was one
of the reasons. He used to tell her that their savings were enough to
set up a business there, but she was adamant.
I’m
not leaving my life here!
But when the
worst came to the worst, she agreed. It was then that she fell
pregnant with you.»

She
dithered for a while, as if she was trying to figure out how to
continue her story. Finally, she took a deep breath and carried on:

«Look,
Vassilis, my dear. I don’t know how this may sound to you
but... I guess you have to know the truth. When your father learnt
about her pregnancy, he asked her to have an abortion. He didn’t
want a second child — I don’t know why. Penelope refused,
but Robert gave her two options: she would either give birth to you
and then give you away for adoption, or they would get a divorce and
he would go back to England on his own. I never really understood why
he reacted like that. Well, your mother had previously confided in me
about his never wanting a second child, but... I didn’t expect
him to be so negative and absolute.»

»Penelope
didn’t want to give you away or destroy her family. So, since
we didn’t have a child at the time, we suggested keeping you
and bringing you up. Robert agreed and so it happened.»

»Ten
months later, your parents and your brother boarded a plane to
London. Only God, she and I knew how much it hurt her. She would
never forgive Robert for what he had done to her.»

»Your
father meant no harm, but he was extremely selfish. That’s why
he never admitted to actually regretting his decision to leave you
behind. Of course, we all knew he thought about you all the time.
Your mother once found him sitting in the dark, holding a copy of
this photo.»

»Anyway,
once in England, they managed to open a pub with their savings and
his parents’ aid. Fortunately, their pub did just fine from the
very beginning. They could live a comfortable life, like we did
here.»

»A
year later, I gave birth to Natalia. Upon hearing this, your mother
suggested they take you back. Natalia’s birth was the ideal
excuse for doing what she always wanted. Your father, though,
remained unyielding. Why he did this is beyond me. Even now, when I
look back on those days, I still cannot find an explanation. However,
he offered to send money to cover your expenses, but we wouldn’t
accept that. You were our child, just like Natalia. I never
discriminated between you, mark my words. However, since your parents
insisted, we came up with the idea of a bank account. They would send
the money and we would save up for you.»

»When
Natalia was born, the restaurant was bringing in sufficient cash,
just like your parents’ pub. My sister would call me every day
to ask after you. She never managed to get you out of her head. She
knew what you ate, what games you played, who your friends were, what
school subjects you liked and which poem you would recite at every
school concert. She knew you as well as I did.»

»Some
years later, I received a telegram saying she wanted to come to
Greece to see you. You had just turned five, while Pavlos must have
been around eighteen. She had left you a newborn and now you were
about to start school.»

»She
wanted me to introduce her as Aunt Penelope. I can only begin to
imagine how much it hurt being unable to put things right and correct
the mistakes of the past. I remember once, when you asked me in front
of her where your mother was, she burst into tears and kept saying
that she would never forgive herself for what she had done. She
stayed for six days. Kissing you goodbye, she wept...»

Emotion
overwhelmed Aunt Urania. Her eyes spilled over with tears. At the
other end of the table, I felt like someone had robbed me of my
feelings, as if they had sprung loose a trapdoor. I was neither happy
nor sad. I felt neither pain nor compassion. I felt nothing. I was
only waiting to hear the last part of the story.

Wiping off
her tears, Aunt Urania remained silent for a moment, then continued:

«The
next day, I received a telegram from London. It was from Pavlos, who
said he needed help because his parents had...», she sighed,
«...a car accident. On their way back from the airport, they
jumped the traffic lights at a train junction and...», there
was another sigh, «...they couldn’t get away in time to
avoid the train.»

»Without
a second thought, I hurriedly packed my things and fled to England,
not knowing when I’d be back. I don’t know if you can
recall that, but I was away for three weeks. Your father was killed
on the spot, but your mother wouldn’t let go, as if the hope of
seeing you again kept her alive. In the end, she didn’t make
it.»

I felt
nothing, hearing those words. Perhaps later on I would feel guilty
for my apathy, but at that moment, I couldn’t feel anything. I
only wanted to hear the end of the story.

«Their
funeral was the most painful experience in my life. Pavlos was
devastated. It wasn’t only the pain; it was the
responsibilities he had now to shoulder, all by himself — at
eighteen. He needed to run the pub and, apart from this, he promised
to maintain sending money for you. I refused, but he insisted.»

»I
stayed with him for two weeks to help him adjust to this new reality.
However hard I tried to convince him to leave everything behind and
join us in Greece, he would not listen. He was determined to stand on
his own two feet. There was a streak of heroic charisma in him from
Penelope, and a measure of selfish stubbornness  from Robert.»

»Ever
since, we’ve never lost touch. I’ve been to London
several times, but I feel I haven’t offered him what he
deserves. I have that on my conscience.»

»Every
month, he sends money that goes straight into your bank account. He
loves you very much — you should know that — and always
asks after you», she said, smiling with sympathy, as she
touched my hand. «You have a brother, Vassilis. He lives in
London... And for thirteen years he’s been waiting to see you.»

All this
was a strange and surreal tale. Stripped of any witches, dragons,
evil stepmothers or heroes. All it featured were truths I had to get
used to. I was the seed of a couple that no longer existed; I had
been abandoned in limbo; and, above all, a brother, the one and only
link to the life I had never lived.

My
aunt’s story answered some questions: the bank account, the
mysterious trips she had always made for
culinary
art exhibitions
, and that enigmatic
smile whenever I asked her about my family. With hindsight, it was
never a sympathetic smile. It was a smile of patience.

Everything
was so tangled up in my mind, that I couldn’t imagine how long
it would take to unravel the thread of this story.

I had
grown up as a stranger. Estranged. Alone. Yet, a few thousand miles
away was my brother. That’s what counted the most, my brother
Pavlos. We were, more or less, in the same boat. We had each other,
but for different reasons we had grown up all by ourselves, for so
long. He was thirty-one. I was coming of age and he was just heading
into the fourth decade of his life.

I went to
the kitchen to find my aunt. «Can you ask Pavlos to join us at
Christmas? I want to meet him.»

She didn’t
answer. She smiled. It was a new kind of smile. I preferred this one.

7

Pavlos’
trip was soon arranged. He decided to visit us before my birthday, so
we could celebrate the occasion together. We would be staying at our
parents’ house by the sea, where I would soon be moving.

The moment
the door opened and I saw that strapping red-haired man will always
be etched on my memory. He beamed at me. He moved closer and stood
before me.

«Look
at you! You’re a grown-up man!» he exclaimed and gave me
a warm embrace. I still cherish that feeling like a precious gem —
the only tangible thing I kept from that meeting. I can no longer
recall what else transpired between us: what we said, if he asked me
anything, what I asked him. I only remember my heartbeat.

We spent
long hours together, mainly at our house by the sea. True to form, he
had grown nostalgic about it. When he first stepped in, he ran around
the rooms like the thirteen-year-old Pavlos might have done, until
his parents had announced they were moving to a far-flung place. I
shared his joy.

When we
first got down to more serious talk, we didn’t know where to
begin. I told him about Michalis, Thanos, Ellie, and he confided in
me about his girlfriend, Samantha, and his life in England. We spoke
nothing of the past. Perhaps, deep down we knew it would wound us.

We
celebrated my birthday at the restaurant. Everybody came along, as
well as Ellie. I blew my candles out almost indifferently. I had been
straining at the bit to turn eighteen and now my birthday turned out
to be just like any other ordinary day.

Then,
it was time to get my presents. Uncle Haralambos and Aunt Urania gave
me an envelope, fat with money
for my
bookshop
. Michalis and Thanos bought me
a camera, while Natalia gave me a book of sayings, having underlined
the ones she thought I might find most meaningful.