She sliced the potatoes as she talked. “So what’s the matter? Are you getting enough sleep?”
The lie played on my lips, but she would have heard it. “No. Not much.”
She looked up at me and tilted her head, like she had a tricorder in her mind and could diagnose any medical problem with a scan of her eyes. “It’s that woman.”
I smiled. I could never get anything past her. Also, confession time, she called me every few days, so she knew I was trying to date Chelsea. She’d already asked me if Chelsea was Greek and if she went to church. Since she’d kept me from Thanksgiving, Chelsea wasn’t high on her list of popular people.
She shook her head. “When I was your age, I had five children.”
“I know.”
I ate while she filled me in on all the family who had come over. Most lived close enough to go home as soon as dinner ended, but Theo Kostas and Yia Yia had come over from Greece, so I knew I should stay the weekend and catch up with them. I hadn’t seen either in years. They’d chastise me for never coming to Greece. I never heard the end of my trip to France when I was in college. “How could you come all the way over to Paris and not visit yourfamily in Greece?” Experts in the guilt trip, all of them.
When I finished eating, I excused myself to go find my uncle. Ma began clearing and said, “I should invite Sophia for dinner.”
I stopped dead. “Don’t call Sophia.”
“When was the last time you talked to her? What a beautiful girl. I don’t know why you stopped seeing her.”
“That was ten years ago. Don’t call her.”
She stacked the plates in the sink as if the conversation was settled. I said again, “Ma. Don’t call Sophia.”
It wasn’t even noon, and I needed a nap.
My yia yia sat in the La-Z-Boy knitting a doily. There were only about forty of them scattered throughout the room. My uncle and dad crowded together on the sofa, watching a soccer game, drinking coffee, bitching at a bad play.
My uncle stood and clasped my hand, then pulled me in for a hug, pounding on my back. He smelled like all the men in my family—virile. I stepped back and said, “Καιρ? ?χουμε να τα πο?με!”
He tsked. “If we haven’t seen each other, it’s because you never come to visit. Your father tells me you’re looking for work.”
It felt like an insult, like my dad had been talking shit behind my back. I scowled but bit my tongue. “Thank you, Theo Kostas, but I have a job.”
Dad blew a raspberry, dismissive. “You have a job, not a career.”
“Dad, leave it. If I want another job, I’ll find one.”
“If you’d finished school—”
“This again?” I turned to leave, but my yia yia raised her hand and said my name.
“Γεια σου, γιαγι?.” I leaned in to her outstretched hand so she could pat my cheek, then bent to give her a kiss.
She ranted in Greek about how she’d die before I ever came to see her and how could I not be married by now. I promised herI’d visit, like I always did.
When I went to leave, my uncle called out, “If you come in January, you could start in the restaurant during the slow season. I could use the help.”
I knew the offer was a favor, nepotism at its finest, but even so, would it be so bad to work for family?
“I’ll think about it.” I’d concocted so many reasons to turn him down in the past, but maybe it was time to reconsider my options, since every door was closing and nothing waited for me in Charlottesville. I no longer had the excuse that a girl held me back. Chelsea had made that clear.
“You could head up the restaurant. I’ve heard you’re a wizard in the kitchen.”
I paused and soaked in his words. My parents would never squander their praise to my face, but catch them talking to anyone else, and you’d think their kids were all geniuses and sterling examples of American success. It gave me a buzz of pride to hear my dad had been bragging about me.
And if I was being honest, a promise to head up his kitchen sounded like a lifeline.
If only it weren’t halfway around the world.
