Nicolai's Daughters (19 page)

“You could. It feels good to say what you think.”

Theodora shook her head.

“You think it, though. Right?”

“When I do I must pray or invite her to our house when I do not really want to, or I call her to see if she wants me to help her in her house.

“You know, she is not all bad. She is nice sometimes,” Theodora continued. “Then I let my guard down just a little. Maybe I only misunderstand her. She does say and do nice things, but I always feel there is another thing behind.”

She's right, Alexia thought. It's never as simple as that. Alexia thought of her father again. He didn't listen to anything when he had his mind made up. Still, she knew he loved her. She didn't believe it sometimes, but she could be a brat too. A spoiled brat. Now that he was gone, she missed him. When the phone rang, even here, she thought he'd be on the other end. She swallowed hard. Don't, she told herself.

He tried to send letters to Theodora, but never did. Why didn't he? Didn't he love her, too? What was he afraid of?

After they finished their salad, Alexia and Theodora shared the
bougatsa
in the same way they'd shared lunch, two forks, one plate. It didn't occur to Alexia to protest.

Theodora fed Nicky one mouthful of the custard for every half-mouthful she took herself. He sat on her lap, his lips smudged in creamy yellow. When a dollop or a crumb fell on his lap, he became agitated, screeched and pointed. Alexia wondered if this was how he demanded to be cleaned up. Theodora accommodated, but she seemed less fastidious. He pushed her hand away, took the napkin himself and wiped away what she left behind.

“You become more obsessed, Nicky,” Theodora said. “Like others in the family.”

“I'm a bit like that myself,” Alexia said. “Dan would say I was more than a bit. He teases me about it.”

“Who is Dan?”

“Kind of my boss. One of the senior partners. And a friend. I guess.” She smiled and wasn't sure why.

“Your partner?”

“No, no. One of the owners of the firm, the business.”

“But he is a boyfriend too?”

“No. Just a friend.” Alexia felt herself blushing.

“Maybe more. Yes?”

“I don't think so.” Alexia turned to the window. A woman walked in front of the stores across the street. She had a kind of walk that was familiar to Alexia, an outfit maybe she'd seen before. She shrugged.

“Something?”

“No, nothing.”

The waiter brought the bill and Alexia picked it up.

“This is for me to take care of,” Theodora said, reaching to take it from Alexia.

“Next time,” Alexia said.

“But you are a guest in my country. It is my duty.”

“There will be another time,” Alexia said. “Not to worry.”

Theodora smiled. “Thank you. This is very kind.”

After lunch, Alexia walked with Theodora to the park.

Theodora picked Nicky up and placed him on the swing. Alexia pushed him. Her high heels discarded, Theodora belly-flopped over the swing beside them and rocked back and forth. The tips of her toes kicked up the red dust.

“Do you work?”

“I take pictures,” Theodora said.

“Oh, a photographer.” So Theodora turned out to be the creative one. Nicolai would have liked that.

Theodora stopped swinging. “It is only a dream now.”

“I'd like to see your photographs sometime.”

After a long while, they left the park and walked back towards where Alexia had parked the moped. Theodora ambled and glanced into every store window and Alexia had to slow down not to lose her.

“You do not see when you walk fast.”

“It's getting late,” Alexia said. It was around four. “I had a good time, though.”

Theodora brightened. “I thought you did not because of your rush.”

“I worry about things. I worry about that moped, about the dark, about how I'll get home, about everything.”

“Andreas says I should be more like this.”

“I have never told anyone this,” Alexia said, “but I don't like being like me. Nothing I can do about it, though. Next time I will have more time.” Alexia uttered the commitment before she realized what she'd done.

When they arrived at the moped twenty minutes later, Theodora hugged Alexia. At first, Alexia didn't know what to do with her arms. She held her body away, but Theodora drew closer and held on until Alexia hugged her, patted her back. They stood still like this for a few seconds and then unlocked. Alexia looked away. This girl deserved to know the truth.

She watched Theodora walk down the street, Nicky bouncing and fidgeting in her arms. She put on her helmet and turned the key in the ignition. She saw Christina then, leaning against the door of a small shop on the corner. Alexia sat very still on the puttering moped. They looked directly into each other's eyes.

2010

Oregano, onion, garlic and beef bubbled in a pan on the stove. Nicky lay on his stomach at Theodora's feet, colouring over the lines of one of the simple drawings in the book she'd made for him. His foot lay against her leg. She reached for a cucumber on the opposite counter, tripped over him and caught herself before she fell.

“
Ella, paidi mou
,” she said. He shuffled a little closer. She chopped the cucumber in half and hacked at it in the same way she'd done the tomatoes, green peppers and onions, already mingled in a pool of murky red in the glass bowl. Slow down, she said to herself. It can't be done any faster.

Nicky's hair was flaked with tiny cucumber peel shavings. If he noticed, he would fuss until she cleaned him up. She didn't have time for this. She grabbed the last half of the cucumber. She'd spent too long over lunch, played in the park, gone for a walk. It had been so much fun talking to Alexia, getting to know her. She could have spent the evening with her too, but they both had to get home. Family. Commitments.

She heard the tick of the blade against her fingernail. She threw the knife down, certain she'd sliced through skin. The knife bounced off the cutting board and onto the counter. She held it still. A faint bruise was building under the nail. Her skin hadn't been pierced. She rubbed her finger, took a deep breath. Everything had to be on time for Andreas.

She threw the watery cucumber into the bowl and gave the salad a quick toss. Later, she'd add the olive oil and lemon. Nicky sat still while she picked cucumber out of his hair. She wiped up tomato and green pepper seeds from the floor, washed her hands and got the bowls. Nicky followed her every step. “
Ella, paidi mou
,” she said. “I'm busy. Can you see?”

She slung him onto her hip. He clutched at her blouse and whimpered as she finished setting the table and wiped down the counter. “What's wrong now?”

“He thinks he's going to fall,” Andreas said from the door. “He doesn't need to be held all the time.” The door slammed shut behind him. “You can put him down when you're cleaning. He's almost two.” He draped his jacket over the kitchen chair and leaned against its spindly back. The chair creaked. He let go, stood away from it. “I have to fix this one of these days.”

“We have closets,” she said, pointing to his jacket.

“Yes, but I don't want to take the pleasure away from you.” He went to her, slipped his arm around her waist, kissed Nicky's head, then Theodora's cheek and walked over to the stairs. “I'll be a few minutes. I'm starving.”

“I'm behind.”

“This is new?” Andreas smiled.

He'd had a good day, she thought. Thank God for small mercies. She had, too. His supper was late. So what? It happens. She pulled a chair close and sat down heavily, sliding Nicky to the floor. He picked up the colouring book and his crayons. He scratched black, then red, and finally yellow across the drawing she'd made of all three of them at the beach. “You'll be an artist, Nicky.” He put his head on her foot and moved his crayons back and forth until only the faintest outline of their family could be seen. “You are getting heavy.” She bent and rubbed his back. “But you won't let me go. Will you?”

Theodora went through the list of things she had to do. The stew was simmering, the salad done, and the potatoes on. A bottle of Andreas's homemade wine was in the fridge. Water glasses were filled and on the table along with a cold bottle of water for refills. Andreas was usually dehydrated when he got home. Too busy to take breaks during the day, he brought back the bottle of water she packed for him, half full. She stuck it in the fridge for the next day. Everything was ready. Once they started eating, everything would be fine. She hated being rushed.

Gently, she shifted Nicky's head off her foot, stepped around him. She hoped he wouldn't follow. She poked a fork into one of the potatoes. Still hard. She picked up the pot and stuck it in the fridge. They'd be good tomorrow.

Making sure dinner was on time night after night required a precision she didn't have. It was one more boring thing she had to think about, then do. “Why don't we go to the
taverna
sometime?” she'd asked Andreas one night.

“I've been working all day,” he said. “We're lucky. I have work. You should read a newspaper, listen to the news. See how many people are on the street with nothing. The country is in trouble.” He had stared at her sternly then, as if she were a little girl who had just asked for an impossibly expensive treat. They didn't have a lot of money. She knew that. God knew she hadn't had a new outfit or shoes in such a long time, since her mother died. She took good care of her things, all the things her mother bought for her. They were expensive, she knew that, and they would last. She'd make them last. Hadn't Alexia told her how good she looked? She'd never suspect how old that outfit was she wore today.

But what harm was there in going out once in a while? How much could they spend? And why did everything have to be on his time? When had she stopped telling him what she needed, what she wanted? “I want to spend my life making you happy,” he used to tell her. “It's the only thing I care about.”

“Where's the bread?” Andreas said as he walked into the kitchen and surveyed the table. His hands were on his hips. Theodora was reminded of the old women in the market, nagging about the price and condition of the lettuce.

“It smells good.”

She grabbed the basket of bread and sat down.

“No potato?”

“We'll have it tomorrow.”

“If one day you remember everything, I will think aliens have kidnapped you and put someone else in your place.” He pinched Nicky's cheeks lightly. The boy giggled and pushed his father's hands away. “Your mother has a bad memory. Hey, Nicky.”

“This is not funny.” Theodora picked at her stew.

Andreas tore a piece of bread in two and swiped a piece across his bowl. “I'm only joking.” He touched her hand with the back of his. “You know that.”

“I felt rushed,” she said. “I don't like it.”

“Did you get home late?”

“I met a friend for lunch,” she said. Would the chunks of meat on her plate never finish? “Things carried on.”

“What friend?”

“You don't listen.” She put her fork down. She had picked out all the vegetables. Only the meat remained like a big fat lump in the middle of her brown-stained bowl. “The girl I met last week. She is visiting her family. She's from Canada. I told you.”

“I don't remember.” He ate like a starving man.

Why didn't he look at her anymore? She tucked her hair behind her ear, shuffled in her chair, pulling at her skirt. “You don't listen when I talk.”

“You believe you tell me things, but I know you don't.”

“I told you this morning. I was trying to think about what to make for dinner because I wanted a meal I could put on early and leave. I wasn't going to be home. I needed dinner to be easy. Remember?”

He shrugged. “I guess potatoes didn't fit into your plan.”

Theodora rubbed at Nicky's mouth. He squealed, pushed her hands away and forked a small bit of meat into his mouth, smearing his cheek.

“And you were too busy talking to come home.” Andreas dabbed at his chin with a piece of bread. “What do you need with strangers?”

“I need.” She wiped her son's face again and his head rocked back and away. He kicked his feet and tried to grab the cloth. “I'll do it,” she said. She picked him up and plopped him straight back down. This time he sat still and she ran the wet cloth over his face. “Try to get some in your mouth. Your mother's job is difficult enough.”

“I only asked a question,” Andreas said. “You are too nervous these days.”

“It's the way you ask, the way you expect.” She pitched the cloth on the table.

“I work.” Andreas mopped up his bowl with the bread, then ate the bread. He took another, ripped it in two, patted one side of his mouth with half, ate that, patted the other side with the other half and swallowed that piece too. She pushed the napkin towards him. He fingered it, but didn't pick it up.

“Did you eat too much at lunch?” Andreas asked.

Theodora shrugged.

“We can't let food go to waste. Not now. Not in these times when so many have nothing.” He picked at her bowl. She moved his to the side and put hers in front of him. He nodded. “It's very good,” he said. “You should try it.”

“Maybe if there is anything left.”

She made it because it was his favourite. Couldn't he see that?
“All I ever want to do is make you happy.”
When was the last time he'd said that to her?

She knew she loved him. She hadn't always known, but she'd come to realize it that year before she went to university. He liked her photographs so much that he saved his allowance to buy her a fancy camera the year she went to Athens. Over lunch with Alexia, she was again reminded how lucky she was to have Andreas, Nicky, her own family. There was an obvious loneliness in Alexia's voice. “I'm busy,” Alexia had said. “I don't have time for that.” Even Theodora, who didn't know Alexia very well yet, knew this was just an excuse.

Theodora's own life was different. Better. Maybe she'd been too smug in that thought. When she'd left Alexia by her moped, she picked up Nicky and practically ran all the way home. She usually let him walk, but he moved too slowly for that today. She wondered what Alexia's life was really like. Maybe a little loneliness was not a bad price for a bit of freedom.

“Maybe I shouldn't make dinner every night.” She stared out the window.

“I support this family. I'm the one who worries about tomorrow. Money. Where it will come from. How we will pay for things.”

“And I do nothing?”

“It's different.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged his hand away. “The way you say that, you mean easier.”

Nicky threw his bowl at them, splattering the table.

They stared at him.

Theodora rushed to him, kissing his cheek. Andreas stood close and mussed his hair. “You're right, little one,” Andreas said. “We're being silly. Hey, Nicky?”

“I guess the rush of making dinner, being here at a certain time,” Theodora said. “Next time I won't worry so much.”

“You know you don't have to rush for me. Dinner even an hour late is fine. Don't make yourself like this. It's not good for us.” He ran his finger over the last bit of sauce in the bowl.

She reached for his hand. He lightly stroked hers with the back of his and leaned over to peck her on the lips. How was it that she'd fallen in love with this man, his meaty breath? She smiled.

“I don't know why I get so crazy.” She folded her napkin and put it on her lap.

“If the foreigner does this to you, don't see her,” Andreas said. He shuffled his chair back, scuffing the floor.

“She probably won't be here long,” Theodora said, and picked up their bowls. When she stood up, the napkin fell. She stepped on it, leaving it crushed on the floor. “And besides, I like spending time with her.”

When she turned, Andreas was already gone. She wiped Nicky's mouth with the cloth again, picked up his bowl and heard the crackling sound of the television going on in the living room. The familiar newscaster's monotone voice followed. Nicky took his book and walked towards the sound. Theodora turned on the hot water.

She already felt close to Alexia. She was easy to be with and she didn't judge her. She could talk to her, trust her.

Theodora grabbed the first bowl and scrubbed it, the bruise under her nail aching in the soapy water.