Authors: Brenda Grate
Jen studied her mother’s face, looking surprised at her words. Emma didn’t understand why she would be surprised. Emma had never pushed her children to be or do anything that didn’t fit them. She’d only ever wanted their happiness and fulfillment.
“Why?” Jen asked.
“Why what?”
“Why can’t I just stop?”
Emma didn’t say anything. She had no idea where Jen was going with her questions, so she waited for her to figure it out and explain.
There was a crack as Jen leaned forward and banged her head against the solid wood table. She looked up at Emma, tears pooling in her big blue eyes and asked again, “Why can’t I stop?”
“Stop what, baby?” Emma asked, her voice soft, soothing.
“I can’t stop thinking,” Jen wailed. “The voice, it’s the damn voice that just won’t fucking shut up!” she screamed.
Fear passed through Emma.
What does she mean by The Voice?
“Momma, am I crazy?” Jen’s question chilled Emma.
“No, darling, you’re not crazy.” Despite her reservations, Emma got up and pulled her chair beside Jen. She took Jen in her arms and held her. Jen froze at first and then melted into her mother’s arms. She sobbed so hard, Emma felt her arms were the only thing keeping her daughter together. If a mother could actually hear her own heart breaking, then Emma heard it.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were feeling this way. I’m sorry I failed you.” The words seemed nothing more than pebbles in a vast ocean of pain.
She held Jen tighter, wishing she could take all the pain into herself and give her daughter back a clean, whole heart. The worst part of all, what Emma knew she would struggle to forgive herself for, was the father she had given her children. He’d been her choice, but her children were the ones who had to live with it.
Jen lifted her head and wiped at her cheeks with shaky hands. She looked wrung out, vulnerable and much younger than her twenty-three years.
“I don’t want to be a lawyer, Mom, but if I stop, I’m a failure.”
“You’re not a failure, Jennifer,” Emma said, patting her daughter’s hair. “You’re the strongest, most successful young woman I know.”
Jen pushed Emma’s hand away impatiently. “How can you say that? If I were really successful, then I’d be studying right now, rather than running away.”
“Is that why you’re here? You’re running away?”
Jen lowered her head. Emma cupped her chin with a hand and tilted Jen’s head up to look into her eyes. She wanted Jen to see that her mother had only love in her eyes, not censure.
“Don’t you think we all need to run away once in a while?”
Jen’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“How can we reevaluate what we want if we don’t get off the treadmill of what we’re already doing? Holidays are perfect for getting time to think and decide what we want to do when we go home.”
Emma let go of Jen’s chin after pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Think about it, honey. That’s all I ask.”
Jen nodded, thoughtful. She reached for her coffee and took a deep gulp.
Emma pushed the tray of pastries closer. “Have something to eat.”
Jen offered a tiny smile. She picked up a pastry and sniffed it.
Emma laughed. “That’s spanakopita. It’s spinach and feta cheese. One of my favorites.” She moved her chair back to her side of the table and picked up a sausage roll. “This is another of my favorites.” She bit into it and gave Jen an overly dramatic dreamy smile.
The air filled with Jen’s laugh. Her daughter had always had the most delightful giggle.
Jen chomped into her pastry and grinned around a mouthful.
“Delicious,” she declared with satisfaction.
The rest of breakfast passed with a peace not often felt around their table. They chatted about their plans for the next few days. Emma could see Jen had shed a huge weight. It had seemed an impossibility, but Jen had opened up to her. It seemed they had made ground in their relationship, maybe even sowed the seed for a new type of relationship.
They washed dishes together. Just before Jen left the room, she turned to Emma. “Thanks, Momma.”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
Jen disappeared down the hall with Emma’s smile breaking out behind her like the sun after an interminable number of cloudy days.
Emma could feel that smile in every part of her body.
The house filled with a warm, soft light as the sun lowered. Everything felt peaceful and time seemed to have slowed.
I could seriously get used to this,
Emma thought as she stretched out.
She’d taken an afternoon nap, determined to get onto Greek time as soon as possible. She didn’t want to be dragging herself around when there were so many amazing things to see.
At that thought, Emma went to find Jen. They’d decided to visit Epidavrus, an ancient theatre close by that the guidebook declared a “must see.” She’d left Jen lounging in the hammock on the front porch when she’d gone for her nap. Jen had looked peaceful, lying with a magazine face-down across her chest, eyes closed. Emma went to her nap with a light heart and now looked forward to the rest of the trip.
She wandered around the house looking for Jen, but couldn’t find her. Then she spotted the note in the middle of the kitchen table. Her heart sank as she stood stock still and stared at it, like a deer caught in a hunter’s scope. She suspected what it contained, but picked it up hoping her first instincts were wrong.
Dear Momma,
Thank you for the talk today. You helped me come to my decision, but please don’t blame yourself. I’m going away. For how long, I don’t know, but please don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I need to go “find myself” as they say. You said I’m one of the smartest young women you know, but I’ve been reduced to a cliché.
Emma clutched the letter to her chest for a moment, picturing Jen in her mind. Her eyes rolling as she spoke the last sentence.
I don’t know where I will be, but I’ve taken my luggage and left my phone. I don’t want to talk to anyone I know for a while. As you said, how can I change if I don’t stop doing what I’ve always done, and that includes being in the same relationship with the people who love me.
I know this will hurt you, Momma, but that isn’t my intention. I’ve been a bitch, I know that. But I
do
love you. You have been there for me since I was little and I appreciate it, even if I don’t show it. Dad has done nothing but push me to succeed, but always within his parameters. I don’t blame Dad, he has his own issues, but I know that I’ve got to figure out who I am apart from my parents and my brother.
Give my love to Brad and Dad if you talk to him. Please, please don’t worry. I’m a big girl and I’ll stay safe. I’m a smart girl and know how to keep out of danger. I’m probably going to explore Greece for a while, but it won’t be in this area, so don’t look for me. I’ll send you a message letting you know I’m all right, but that’s all I can do for now. Don’t hate me.
Love,
Jennifer
Emma placed the letter on the table and smoothed her hands over it.
She didn’t know how much more she could take. First, she lost the man she’d been expecting to grow old with. Then she lost her son to the wilds of the world—although she’d lost him long before to a camera lens. Now, just when she’d gotten her daughter back, she’d lost her too.
All sense of peace gone, Emma slumped into a chair and dropped her head to the table.
She cried out her disappointment and fear.
Chapter 31
The airport gleamed with newness as though it had just been built. Connie hadn’t expected that. Everything looked the same as most other airports she’d been in. It reminded her of when she’d landed in Fiumicino, Rome’s airport, many years ago. She’d expected sculptures or something. She had also been very young. Connie hadn’t realized what a romantic soul she had.
The luggage carousel finally got moving after everyone had waited for about twenty minutes. Connie hoped Emma had made it to the airport already. She couldn’t wait to see her friend and rest from the long flight. Emma had told her on the phone that they had a two-hour drive to Nafplio, but that she’d rented a comfortable car for the ride. Connie looked forward to stretching her legs out and relaxing, but as soon as she could manage it, she’d be dragging Emma to the beach.
Spotting her dark maroon case, Connie pushed her way to the front and nabbed it. She grunted as she lugged it off the carousel, then made her way through to the waiting area and spotted Emma immediately. They threw their arms around each other in a tight hug.
“Connie, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too. Wow, what a flight.” She glanced around. “Where’s Jen? She didn’t go home already, did she?”
Emma’s face fell. She took the pull handle of Connie’s suitcase and headed toward the main doors, Connie falling in beside her.
“Jen left, yes, but not for home.”
“What? Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. She left me a note and took off. You can read it when we get to the house. I really don’t know what’s going on with that girl. We’d just had an incredible talk a few hours before she left and I thought things were getting better. I got up from my nap and she was gone.”
“Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry,” Connie said, slinging an arm around her friend. “Do we need to go look for her?”
They stepped into the heat and Connie tipped her face up to soak in the sunshine.
“No. She said she would let me know she’s okay. She just wants to go find herself, as she put it.”
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I understand what she means. I did the same thing went I spent that summer in Rome.”
“Actually I do understand, Con. I’m sort of doing the same thing myself away from Alan. How do you even know yourself when you spend every day focusing on everyone else?”
They stepped up to a small silver Fiat.
“You’re right, and I’m glad you’re finally focusing on yourself,” Connie said.
Emma loaded the suitcase into the car, and they headed down the highway. She pointed out different sites along the way, but before long, Connie grew sleepy. She drifted off to the sound of the engine purring with her best friend beside her.
She might be on holiday, but whenever she was with Emma, she was home.
Chapter 32
Emma and Connie sat at a table beside the sea and watched while several patrons in the taverna danced to the live Greek music. Emma sipped a glass of icy ouzo while Connie enjoyed rosé wine. They’d had a delicious dinner after which Connie begged for recipes. The owners of the bar were a Greek and English couple, the wife having come over from England on holiday many years before. They’d fallen in love and she never left. Emma could imagine doing the same thing. The whole idea of falling in love in Greece was as alluring as love itself.
A small child had curled up in a chair and now slept, peaceful despite the music and laughter.
“Isn’t this great, Emma?” Connie clinked her glass to Emma’s and grinned. “I’m having the time of my life.”
“Me too. It’s so exotic, the warm air, the sound of the sea, the Greek music, and all the dancing.”
“Not to mention the ouzo and wine,” Connie laughed.
“We could have that at home, but not the rest of this,” Emma said, pointing to the group of dancers with her glass.
“True.” Connie adjusted her chair to see the dancers better.
Several tourists recorded with video cameras. Emma was glad she hadn’t brought a camera to the little seaside town, Toló. Georgia had told them about the place, saying that it was a great place to experience the sea and a festive atmosphere. She had been right.
They’d discovered the little taverna earlier in the day while walking along the beach, their feet in the water. A sign outside proclaimed that evening to be Greek Night, which caused Connie to break down in giggles.
“Isn’t every night Greek night?” she’d said.
The owner had been outside working and heard her. “You’re right,” he said, “but it seems to pull the tourists in.”
He spoke perfect English. He pulled his wife out of the kitchen to introduce her. She had a posh British accent and a lovely smile. They told Emma and Connie how they’d met at a taverna much like the one they stood in front of and had fallen for each other while dancing in a huge group circle, arms around each other.
It didn’t take more than a glance for Emma and Connie to agree they’d come back that evening for dinner and live music.
Emma took another sip of her drink and smiled at the group of men who now danced a war dance. Earlier, Dimitri, the owner, had explained that some dances were just for the men.
She’d never seen such masculinity. They leaped around to the music and slapped their ankles and stomped their feet as though preparing for battle.
Emma’s face flushed and she tried to unobtrusively fan herself as if the heat were overcoming her. Then she saw Connie doing the same thing. They weren’t the only females looking a little too flushed for it to be only the temperature.
As soon as the men finished their dance, a small man in snug white pants and a pink shirt began to sing in a mournful voice. He walked over to Connie and held out his hand, trying to get her to dance. Connie blushed and waved him away. Finally one woman stepped into the center of the dance floor, which was really only a small space between the tables.
She swayed her hips, arms overhead, while she slowly spun in erotic circles. Emma leaned closer, her face heating again. She glanced around at the crowd and smiled at the stunned expressions. The foreigners looked slightly uncomfortable, as though they’d been caught doing something naughty, but really didn’t want to stop. The Greek men smiled and leered, not seeming to care if their wives noticed or not. The woman in the middle had a tiny smile on her face; she knew exactly the effect she had on the entire crowd, women included. The women wanted to be her, and the men wanted to be
with
her. Emma wondered what it must feel like to be that desired.