I rocked back in my seat, confused by Chelsea’s complete refusal to even consider the opportunity. Things had been perfect, beyond perfect, for the past several days. When she’d finally let me get past that massive wall of resistance, she gave me everything. She didn’t hold back in words or actions. She said she loved me, and every time she said those words, I nearly broke down and cried with joy and relief and the freedom to finally shower her with the full depth of my feelings for her.
But somewhere there had been a massive breakdown in communication, and now we weren’t speaking at all.
I knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer. So I called, “I’ve brought you your dinner.”
I set the covered plate by her door. Then I went out to the water to stare at the reflection of the moonlight rippling on the gentle waves and think.
I’d been clear from day one that I might end up staying in Greece. Had she been living in denial? Or maybe I’d deluded myself into believing she finally trusted me enough to take the next step in our relationship.
What if she hadn’t meant any of it? What if it had all been a trick to coax me home?
I picked up a rock and tossed it into the water. The moonlight exploded, matching the total wreckage of my emotions.
No. There was no way the past couple of days had been alie. None. Everything that had passed between us had been so powerful, I couldn’t let myself believe she’d made promises just to lure me away from Greece. If we were real, then something else was wrong, and I couldn’t for the life of me identify it.
Maybe she needed more time to process, but it stunned me she’d never once considered the possibility of staying here together. With me. It was the obvious consequence of everything we’d been through, everything we both wanted.
In truth, I’d considered abandoning my post here when I first started. I missed her, and she was more important to me than some job. But the reality of our new relationship resolved me to stay. I couldn’t support a family on an hourly wage. I needed to think about building a future for us, and my only practical opportunity was right here. My uncle was giving me a foot in the door. I could work here a year or two and build my résumé. Here, I could finally be worthy of Chelsea.
She had to understand why I couldn’t go home yet, not until I’d made something of myself. I was nearly thirty and needed more than a dead-end job and a stalled relationship. That she’d decided to finally embark on something romantic with me didn’t change the fact that I’d always be a failure at home. She’d been the very one to encourage me to aim higher.
As much as she loved traveling across the countryside, and as many times as she’d told me she longed to live abroad and experience new cultures, I naturally assumed she’d jump at the chance to spend a year or so in Greece. With or without me. She dripped with envy and longing whenever I’d suggested I might move here, but now that I was offering her the world, she wanted to crawl home. I didn’t get it.
Was she just scared? Or was it me? If she didn’t want me, then why’d she want to drag me back with her?
It wasn’t for her job. Or her family. Would she choose Elizabeth over me?
Saturday morning, she came out of her room and met me for breakfast. She sat across from me in silence, so I talked.
“We’re going over to my uncle’s this morning. I hope you’re up for round two of My Big Fat Greek Family. You’ll get to meet my grandmom, my yia yia. She’s so happy I finally came over to visit, and she wants to meet you.”
Chelsea drank her coffee and stared out over the dark blue water. I wished I could read her thoughts.
When we got in the car, I said, “I hope you’ll at least talk to my family.”
She said, “Do they speak English?”
I frowned. My uncle did, but otherwise… “No.”
We drove on with just the company of the radio. Theo Kostas had his own three-story square house, typical of the area, but he lived away from the coast, up in a suburb called Panorama in Voula. When I’d been here the week before, I’d imagined reminding Chelsea of our trip to the apple orchard last fall and then pointing out how apt the name was, since it had views all around. But with her in this mood, I only noticed how dry and rocky the terrain looked, how worn the stone wall outside my uncle’s had become, how brown and leafless the grass and trees were.
The house itself was a bright coral, but it sat isolated from other homes. The side yard sported an abandoned car and some litter. One of my younger cousins came running out, shouting welcome to us.
Thea Daphne and Yia Yia warmly invited us to come share their table with them. They asked questions to Chelsea through me, but mostly they smiled at her. She nodded, politely, nibbling at her food, shrinking into her chair. Only my uncle spoke English, but once we sat at the table, he lost any interest in Chelsea and spoke to me about plans for the restaurant.
Bringing Chelsea here had been a mistake. I needed herto warm to the adventure of living in Greece, but I hadn’t considered how hard the language would be on her. She’d been so adamant about wanting to immerse herself in another culture, I thought she’d relish the opportunity to absorb everything, including the language. That must’ve been before she’d decided Greece was her enemy.
After we ate, Theo Kostas led me to a study, and I was forced to leave Chelsea in the awkward company of my aunt and yia yia. He rummaged through a drawer in a huge mahogany desk and handed me a key to an apartment in Athens he’d been holding, confident I’d take the job. He offered to drive me over to check it out, but Chelsea didn’t need the added pressure, so I got the address and directions.
Then I went and saved Chelsea. “I want to show you something.”
We drove into the city, and I hoped she’d cheer up once we got around shops and restaurants and people. I wanted to show her the Acropolis and make my dumb jokes. The last time I’d seen her laugh had been at the ruins of Mycenae before we’d driven out to the hotel. The streets were skinny with nearly identical-looking buildings crowded together. I got lost a couple of times but ultimately found the apartment my uncle had indicated. Graffiti marred the outside walls, and an enormous eyesore of a dumpster sat on the alley corner. The curbs along the road were cracked, and the building itself seemed a bit dilapidated.
We went up three flights, and I unlocked the door onto a depressingly empty, unfurnished apartment with a tiny white kitchenette and Pergo flooring.
She walked in and went straight to the sliding doors, where she peered out onto the balcony. I joined her. Our view consisted of the balcony on the apartment across the street.
Her hand lifted to her cheek, and I saw the tear streaks. How long had she been crying?
