The buzz of conversation around the table stopped. Vasilis held his cigarette away, mid-puff. Everyone’s eyes fell on me. In the still, quiet seconds, a bead of sweat formed on my forehead. It hung there a few mortifying beats, then slid slowly down my skin.
“It’s different.” Dimitra said. “Did you hear? She said it’s different!”
I wasn’t prepared for the hoots of laughter and clapping that broke out.
Dimitra came around and kissed me heartily on both cheeks.
“You have shared in my pain. My son is leaving tomorrow. Without him, every day for the next nine months will feel like this for me. Like something is not right, like something is different. I want everyone to feel it with me, so today, I used sugar instead of salt in every dish. You will all remember when Dimitra protested mandatory military service!” She beamed around the table.
“Yamas!” Glasses clinked as everyone cheered.
“You must finish.” Dimitra looked at my plate and Alex’s. “And then, you must dance.” She led everyone else to the circle gathering in the center of the square—an outer circle of men and an inner circle of women, holding hands and alternating slow steps with fast steps. They pushed Pantelis to the middle, where he improvised with his arms wide open.
“Welcome to my home.” Alex raised a string bean from his plate. I raised one from mine and we ate Dimitra’s soggy, sugary protest.
“It’s beautiful.” I didn’t think such places still existed, places where you could walk into a town square and find yourself caught up in a celebration. “And everyone is so warm and sweet—”
Alex swooped in for a kiss. “Warm and sweet.” His lips hummed against mine. “So, tell me, when you agreed to come here with me, what exactly was going through your mind? Were you hoping, as I was, to explore this thing between us? This madness that leaves me breathless every time I look at you. Do you think about us lying naked next to each other, Moti? Does it do to you what it does to me?”
I hadn’t thought about anything but playing hooky for the night, but my thighs clenched at Alex’s words, as surely as if his hand slid between them. My eyes must’ve given me away, because Alex let his breath out in a slow exhale.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
My heart was beating hard and fast when Dimitra intercepted us.
“Dance with us,” she yelled over the music. I lost sight of Alex as she pulled me into the circle of women. I moved cluelessly at first, going one way when everyone went another. After a while, I caught on. Two steps to the right, one step forward, then back with a bounce. And repeat. The woman to my right gave me an encouraging nod. Maybe she was just happy I wasn’t stomping on her foot anymore. Either way, we laughed and moved in unison.
I glanced over my shoulder as Alex passed by in the outer circle. The dance turned into a game. Eyes-on-eyes—our gazes meeting and holding, before we lost sight of each other again.
And then he was gone. I searched one way, then the other. No Alex.
I was about to excuse myself when someone pulled me away from the circle.
“Gotcha.” Alex grinned as we stood together, a little breathless, a little giddy, like two kids playing hide and seek.
I didn’t know any of the music playing, but I will always remember the track that came on as Alex held my hand—something about belonging together. My heart synced to the drumbeat, loud and thunderous, as people milled around us. In the silence between the beats, there was only Alex and me, and the sweet, sharp fire flaring between us.
Someone jostled me closer to him, sending my hair across my face. It didn’t help that my lips were sticky with the sugary dinner we just had. Alex brushed the hair off my lips—strand by strand—his gaze both soft and heated. Just when I thought he was about to claim them, he smiled, like he’d uncovered something unexpected and enchanting. The little bubble that had been rising inside me burst through the surface with a pop of joy. Our smiles connected. And then we were breaking through the circle, running away from the crowd, hand in hand.
We stopped at the edge of the square, grinning because we couldn’t help it. A white path zigzagged up to a commanding church at the top of the hill. Below us, rocky cliffs gave way to moonlit waves. It was the kind of place, the kind of night, that filled you with the thrill of being alive.
“Tha se sfakso! Tha se pnikso! Tha se skotoso! Tha sou vyalo ta malia! Tha se kano me ta kremmydakia!” Dimitra ran after her son, Pantelis, with a fork in her hand. He weaved through the tables, laughing and screaming and dodging her attack.
“What is she saying?” I asked.
“That she will butcher him, drown him, kill him, pull his hair out, and cook him with onions.” Alex laughed. “He must’ve done something to piss her off. Or maybe it’s because he’s leaving tomorrow and she can’t stand it.” He fell silent as he watched the two of them.
Across the courtyard, Vasilis caught his eye. Father and son shared a look before Vasilis stubbed his cigarette out and walked over.
“Hey.” Vasilis patted Alex’s cheek. “I miss her too.”
Alex nodded. “I miss the way she used to get angry with me.”
It dawned on me that they were talking about Alex’s mother.
“You know,” Vasilis gestured to the plates on the table, “Frida would’ve messed up the food without even trying.”
They laughed and we raised a glass in her memory. I meant to take a sip, but it turned into an embarrassingly wide yawn.
