Nicolai's Daughters (31 page)

“Excuse me?”

“How about that dinner you promised? Does Saturday work for you?”

“Why not?” He smiled. He might as well enjoy himself. He wrote down Erica's address and phone number.

He grabbed a box of
galaktoboureko
and took it over to Alexia's place one Saturday morning a few months later. He told her he'd finalized the sale of his company and Stuart had tied up all the legal loose ends. He was a free man. His new girlfriend was keeping him busy with yoga, jogging and art exhibits. He was happy.

“She must be running you into the ground,” Alexia said. She leaned across the kitchen table and stroked his face. “Is she feeding you?”

“Stop blaming Erica,” he said, looking down at his plate. “I'm just getting old.”

“I haven't always been fair with your girlfriends,” Alexia said.

He shrugged, sipped the apricot juice he'd brought for them. “I can't stay too long this morning.” He took a bite of his
galaktoboureko
. “We're off to the art gallery later.”

Alexia reached for his hand. “Have a good time, Dad.”

Nicolai had been in bed for several days. When he started to actually feel sick, he went downhill quickly. He heard Erica put her key in the door, Alexia turning her away. “Not now, he's asleep,” Alexia said.

“But all I want to do is sit with him,” Erica said.

“That's what I'm here for,” Alexia said. “Come back a little later.”

He heard Alexia pace outside his door. “
Paidi mou,”
he called out.

She went to him and helped him sit up, put a couple of pillows behind his back.

“She's a friend.”

“You need to get better first.”

“I'm not going to get better.”

“You will,” she said, pulling his sheets and blanket. She ran her hand over the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles. “It'll just take a little time.”

He shook his head and his face scrunched up in pain.

“It's almost time for your medicine.”

She walked into his bathroom. He heard her twisting the top off the bottle. He had to tell her before he fell asleep again. The pain was too much and he needed the medication, but it left him sleepy. He wasn't sure he'd say what he needed to say. It hadn't been a year. Only six months. And he was reduced to a helpless man. He should have told her before this.

She handed him the pills, held his head up to put the glass to his mouth. “You'll feel better soon. You have to have a positive attitude.”

“I used to say that to your mother,” he said, falling back against the pillow.

“You don't know what you're saying. You're not well.” Alexia held his hand. He heard his own raspy breathing. He was sure he'd said what he'd promised himself he would say. She tightened her grip on his hand. She must have heard him. He coughed as he opened his mouth to say something else. He heard only the whisper of his voice. “You have a sister.”

Alexia patted his hand in the same way she used to when she was little. “You're stuck with me, Dad. There's no one else.” Staring into her eyes, he saw the same fear and confusion he'd seen there the night her mother died, the night he left for Greece so long ago. Those other times too, when he hadn't been able to pick her up after school. He wished he could make things right, explain stuff, be what she needed. He'd left it too bloody late.
Coward.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her close. Her breath was sweet and her skin creamy soft like her mother's.

“No one knows,” he said. “Too many secrets. I'm sorry. So many things.”

“Dad, you've been dreaming. It's the morphine. It's okay. When you're better, you'll see.”

“
Paidi mou,
I'm telling you.”

“It's just a bad dream. Lay back now. Rest and get better.”

“It's true, Alexia. I'm sorry.”

She dropped his hand, stood and turned her back to him. He wanted to tell her not to go, not to give up on him. He had done so badly by her, by Theodora.

“I'm sorry. Can't explain. Don't live like me.”
Be with your family, embrace them, don't be afraid of shame or talk or getting too close. You can do better than me. Don't be afraid.
He hoped she heard him. He should have been honest with her. His daughter was a smart, compassionate woman. She could understand and forgive anything. Why hadn't he figured this out before?

2010

Alexia rubbed her hands on her pants, but the sand stuck to her palms. She wiped her hands again. She couldn't see much, but she was sure her hands were coated. She reached for the handle. It rattled. She squeezed her eyes shut. Quiet. She pushed her shoulder against the door. It began to open, then scraped to a halt against the floor. She winced, hoped Christina hadn't heard.

She was thankful that Christina was good to her word. “We do not need to lock houses,” Christina had said to Alexia when she first arrived in Diakofto. No, just your damn secrets. Why hadn't they told Nicolai about Theodora? There was no way gossip like that wouldn't have reached them. And what did they do? They kept it to themselves, hoped he would never find out. Fat chance. Achilles couldn't get a letter off fast enough. Who knew when and how Achilles told him.

Achilles.

What had she been thinking? She'd left her moped parked on the beach and run the long way home, sprinting faster every time she saw his silly, self-satisfied grin. The spot close to her shoulder felt tender. She touched it, closing her eyes. Damn it. Another image. Achilles crawling on top of her, moving back and forth until she felt she might suffocate. His face buried in her shoulder, his beard rubbing her raw.

Her panties were wet and cold. Damn it all. Just get inside. Don't wake anybody. Deal with it in the morning. She sniffed her blouse. His heady smell was still there, mixing with her sweat.

She leaned her forehead against the door. She took a deep breath, peeked inside the house. She could see the outline of the stairs. Her room was just at the top of them. The smell of meat, no doubt tonight's dinner, ruined because of her. Did they have to be so nice to her? They'd welcomed her into their home. And she repaid them by going behind their backs, digging up their secrets, screwing the local playboy.

Alexia pulled up on the handle, raising the door. Her hand slipped off and the door fell against the floor with a thud. Damn. She wiped her hand again. She grabbed the handle, lifted the door, opened it and crept in. She held her breath, listened. Nothing. She closed the door behind her.

The smell of meat was stronger. She hadn't eaten anything since lunch. A salad. “Straight out of the garden,” Christina had said as she'd ripped apart the lettuce. That smile of Christina's, always ready and willing to reassure Alexia. Her stomach groaned. Can't think about that now.

She looked up the stairs. The house was still. She pulled off one shoe, then the other. Sand spilled. She turned towards the door, put her shoes on the mat, bent down and swept the sand with her hands into the corner.

She put her foot on the first step and stopped. The step was cool against the bottom of her foot. She told herself she'd have the covers over her head in a few minutes. This nightmare would be over.

“I made lamb for you tonight,” Christina said. A light clicked on in the kitchen.

Alexia jumped. She really didn't want to deal with Christina tonight. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Face this head on. It was her best shot. She stepped back.

A small lamp sat on the kitchen table. Alexia hadn't seen it before. Maybe Christina had brought it down from her bedroom.

The lamp's muted light cast shadows in the kitchen. Christina sat hunched over the table, her back to Alexia, a Saran-wrapped plate in her hands. She turned it one way, then another, as if she was trying to figure out what it was. Alexia's mouth was dry. She licked her lips and walked over to the cupboard, took out a glass and filled it with water. She turned to face Christina.

Alexia took a sip of water. Don't back away, she told herself. You've screwed up, yes. But they don't need to know that part. She saw herself lying with her legs apart and her pants over one knee. She swallowed hard.

“I thought you didn't eat meat before Easter,” Alexia said.

“This was for you.”

Stop with that stupid plate, she thought. Look at me. Yell at me. Do whatever. Let's just get this over with. Alexia put the glass down. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Christina shrugged.

“You're up very early today,” Alexia said. “Can I get you something,
Thia
? I can make you some coffee if you like. Or a cup of tea?” She turned towards the counter and knocked the glass over with her elbow. “Damn.” She caught it before it hit the ground.

“You've done enough.”

Alexia grabbed the rag in the sink and wiped the counter and cabinet. She put the glass in the sink and picked up the kettle. “Maybe tea would be good.”

“Where have you been?” Christina's voice was quiet, lower than usual.

Alexia turned.

Christina pushed the plate away and put her hands in her lap.

“You know where I was,
Thia
,” Alexia said. “I'll get the tea on.” She put the kettle on the burner, turned the knob and struck a match. The gas flared quicker than she expected. She stumbled back from the stove and reached over to turn the element off. “Maybe it's too late for tea. Or too early. We should be in bed.”

Christina pulled out a chair and motioned for Alexia to sit down.

“I'm really tired.” Alexia stood against the counter, her arms crossed.

“You were not too tired to stay out all night.”

Alexia edged the chair away from Christina, then sat down.

“Well?” Christina asked. She put her hand over Alexia's.

“I went to Maria's. You know that.” Alexia pulled her hand away.

“Maria called me when you left there,” Christina said. “That was hours ago.”

“I went to the beach. A run.” Alexia leaned towards Christina. You can't check that. So there.

“You went to the bar first. No?” she asked. “Where you met your friend Achilles.”

Alexia stood up. “Are you following me?”

“Still you don't understand,” Christina said.

“So I went for a drink. What's the big deal?” She looked away. There were still a few drops of water on the counter. She wanted to wipe them up with her sleeve.

“The owner of the bar is a friend of ours. He was worried about you.” Christina pulled herself out of the chair. She put her hand on Alexia's shoulder. “We all are.”

“If your idea of concern is keeping secrets, I don't want to be a part of it.”

Christina's hand felt heavy against her shoulder. Alexia shrugged it off. “I can take care of myself.”

“This is what a family does.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Christina stood in front of Alexia, grasped her arms firmly. “You know everything now.” Her mouth drooped in a wounded smile. “Have we not been good to you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Alexia stepped back.

Christina let go. “Keep your voice down.” She cocked her head and looked towards the ceiling.

“Because you don't want Solon to wake up and hear that you knew all along about Theodora and never told my father. You lied to him. You all did.”

“What are you saying?” Christina said. “There were rumours, but our cousin went away. We thought it was just talk. We put her out of our minds. Besides she had been seen with your friend so we put two and two together. We did not know until Achilles, I hate to have his name enter my mouth, came to see our father, God rest his soul, your
pappou
.” She folded her hands together as though in prayer.

“What?” Alexia slumped down on one of the chairs.

“He sent that man out of our house and told him to stay away from us.” Christina grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her mouth. She sat down across from Alexia. “I heard my father talking one night with my mother. They agreed to send an envelope to our cousin at the beginning of every month to help take care of Theodora, but when they died, I found all of the envelopes had come back to them.” She shook her head. “They had never been opened. I still have them.”

“They didn't tell my father.”

“What good would it have done?”

“We might have been a family.”

“
Ella, paidi mou
, it was only a mistake that happened because your father was upset with us and our cousin took advantage of that.” Christina threw her hands up at Alexia. “They were cousins. Where could they have lived together without shame falling on their heads, and on their children? On all of our heads. How could we explain?”

“They were ashamed of him and wanted to protect themselves.”

“It is not so easy,” Christina said, tilting back in her chair. “Don't blame them. It is my fault.”

Christina laced her fingers. She looked away. “Nicolai had an argument with our father and moved out. I asked him to come back from Aigio,” Christina said. “When he wouldn't come home, I refused to speak to him because I knew Solon's family would not allow our marriage if they knew what Nicolai was doing. It was this way in those days. I'm to be blamed for what happened between Nicolai and Dimitria.”

“He came back to Greece for her,” Alexia said. “They were childhood sweethearts. I don't know. After my mom died, he came running back here to find her. His real love.”

“No, Alexia. Now, you are wrong. What happened when they were kids was nothing. They were caught playing house. All children do this. It is normal. No? Her father got angry. He talked to our father and that was all that happened. Nothing more. They didn't even see each other after that. Nicolai never knew that our father knew. But our father kept him away from her.”

“Then, why did he come back here? Why didn't he bring me?”

“Nicolai was probably afraid of what our father might do. Maybe ruin you with his anger. I don't know. What I know for sure is your mother was his only love. This is probably why he never married again. I know this. I knew it when I visited you in Vancouver. He told me he was happy. It was the first time in our lives I heard him say this. And I knew it was true. And you know it, too.”

All those women. Nothing lasted. God, why hadn't I figured this out before? I thought he just brought them home to make my life miserable. He even told me there could never be anyone else but Sara for him. Why didn't I listen?

“I knew how much he needed us and I betrayed him.”

“Why didn't you call him? Tell him?”

Christina shrugged. “He never said a word to any of us, so we thought he didn't want to talk about it. No?”

Christina reached over. Alexia flinched.

“There is something in your hair,” Christina said, pulling out a tiny, dried-out leaf. “See?” She passed the leaf to Alexia.

“I was running.” Alexia took the leaf. She got up, stuck it in her pocket and took off her jacket. She walked out into the hallway and hung it on the coat rack. Christina followed.

“Did you fall too?”

“What do you mean?”

Christina tried to brush Alexia's back. Alexia turned. More damn sand. Alexia grabbed the broom from the front closet, turning away from Christina. “I told you I went to the beach.” She swept the sand into a corner and left it. She leaned the broom against the wall and turned to the stairs, gripped the railing. “I need some sleep,” she said.

“We will talk more after Easter.”

Alexia turned back towards Christina. “You've all made such a mess.”

“When you hide things, everything gets worse.” She caught Alexia's eye. “You understand this better, now. No?” Christina walked back into the kitchen, sat down and turned out the lamp.

Alexia stood in the dark. She heard Christina sigh. Alexia crept up the stairs, closed her bedroom door behind her and got into bed.

She woke to a sound. Panting. The sheets had wrapped themselves around her arms, holding her down. Alexia kicked at the twisted sheets, the blanket. She sat up quickly. Her eyes adjusted. She was in her room, alone, her bedroom door closed. The old-fashioned key dangled from the lock. Had Christina come up to check on her? Was it someone else? The door to the terrace was opened. The curtains fluttered in the light breeze. The sun warmed the room. She told herself she should get up and close the shutters.

She shimmied out of her pants and blouse and dropped both on the floor. Sand rubbed against her as she pushed herself up towards the headboard. She leaned against the pillow, pulled the sheets up to cover herself. The blanket had fallen on the floor out of reach. She couldn't be bothered to retrieve it. She rubbed her foot over her shin. The sand seemed to multiply. She wiped her hands against the sheets. She'd have to shake everything out, wash all the bedding and her clothes, shower. Get up, she told herself
.
She lay still, encased in sand, her arms by her sides as if to hold the sheets, the dirt down.

She listened for the static on the radio downstairs. The house was quiet. It must be late morning. Solon was likely in the field. Maybe Christina had gone shopping. Outside her terrace door she heard a machine grind and pitch.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why had she done it? Achilles meant nothing to her. She was just another one of his conquests and maybe his ticket to more money for his boardwalk. Sure, she had needed a way to let off steam. There was a lot of crap she was dealing with in this family. An escape from it was a good idea. She did that sometimes. No harm done with a married man. But this was just stupid. She couldn't get his grin or the silly way he stroked his patchy beard out of her head. She squeezed her eyes closed. She hadn't used a condom, hadn't even thought about it. A man like that could be carrying any number of diseases. Jesus Christ. She slammed her fists on the bed until she tired herself out. This doesn't happen to me, she thought. Ever. Even when I have my fun, I control things. This time, I screwed up royally. It's got to be this place, these people. They're making me crazy.

Christina's words came back to Alexia. “When you hide things, everything gets worse.” Alexia saw the way Christina tilted her head as if she knew Alexia understood what she was talking about. “You understand this better now. No?”