She glanced at him, hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes. As I alluded to you, I had a life in Greece of which I didn’t wish to be reminded.’
He nodded, reached down, and pulled a shirt over his now dry body. She looked away.
‘It’s too nice to go inside.’ He pointed to a wooden bench in the shelter of the dunes. ‘Shall we sit down?’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
’So,’ he said as they sat on the bench. ‘Has something changed to make you not avoid the subject of Greece?’ He didn’t want to let the subject drop. He sensed something had changed for her. The very fact she’d sought him out — because he didn’t kid himself she was here by accident — suggested she wanted to continue that process of change.
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, it would seem so.’ She gave an elegant shrug. ‘I thought I must have distanced myself for so long that I would be inured to it. Wouldn’t feel it.’
His smile fell. ‘And is that what’s happened?’
This time she shook her head. ‘No. I still feel connected to my past in a visceral way. I guess some things never leave you.’
‘And is that painful for you?’
‘Yes and no. It’s hard to tell. It’s a blend of the same thing. You know? When a memory is so beautiful and sad, and it’s hard to figure out which. It becomes a thing of its own.’ She shrugged. ‘Poignant, I suppose.’
He smiled. Augi never fudged what she said with ambiguous words. She always said what she wanted to say. If she didn’t want to say it, she kept quiet. He liked that. Her eyebrows dipped, and he cleared his throat as he realised he’d been looking at her for too long without replying.
‘Do you miss it? Greece, I mean?’
‘The place, yes.’
‘What about people?’ He knew he was testing the water here, but he was getting the idea this was what she’d come for. To open up to him away from everyone. And he wasn’t about to let the moment pass. ‘Are they still alive? Your family?’
There was a pause during which she looked out to sea, her eyes glassy, and he wondered if he’d pressed her too far. ‘No. They’re all gone now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I, also, am sorry about many things. But they were not like your family. They were not… supportive.’
Dan paused for a few moments, not wanting to stop her from talking. But, as the silence lengthened, he realised she wasn’t going to elaborate.
‘Yes, as crazy as my family all are, they are supportive. And I like being connected to them. It makes me feel…’ He groped for the right word.
‘Grounded?’ Augi offered.
‘Happy,’ he said at last. ‘And I guess feeling grounded is part of that sense of happiness. Seeing buildings around me I’ve known since childhood. Seeing places in which I have memories embedded. And seeing people I’ve known since childhood, changing, growing older. It’s a place I know. Whatever I thought I wanted from going overseas seems to have fizzled out — come to nothing. I turn around, and find that everything I want is here.’
‘You’re lucky that the place you know so well has good memories. And you’re lucky that it still contains the same people. People you love.’
‘It holds a mixture of sad and happy memories. Like yours, to some degree,’ he added, not wanting to equate his low points to hers. ‘Of sadness,’ he quickly continued. ‘When Dad passed and great-grandmother Ngaire. But mainly good. I know I’m lucky. Not everyone has that. And I’m sorry you can’t return home and find it.’
‘No, there’s nothing there for me now. I’ll live the rest of my life here. This place has been good to me.’
He nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
She turned to him at last. ‘I wanted to say, Daniel, that I enjoyed the concert. Very much.’
‘Me too.’ He realised he was sitting grinning at her like a fool. ‘Very much,’ he added. ‘Maybe we can do it again.’
‘Maybe.’ She looked down at her swinging feet, shyly. ‘Although, as nice as that would be, maybe we don’t actually need to. We’re talking now. Getting to know each other here.’
‘We are.’
‘Is there anything else you’d like to know about me?’ she asked with a smile.
