Good Greek Girls Don't (32 page)

‘Bullshit, Mum. You remember.'

For the first time, so do I.

‘I begged you, Mum. I begged you one last time to help me stop this. And you said that I was not going to embarrass you, that it was time for me to do what you had raised me to do.'

I remember Effie and Mum locked in Effie's room, the shouting and Effie crying. I don't think she had ever looked more miserable than on that day. But I was a just smartarse kid back then. I was simply too pissed off at having to wear a pink frilly dress to see any of that.

‘So I married him, Mum – for you. And I was his
poutana
for ten years, his whore, because you wanted it, because he was a good catch, so you wouldn't be stuck with me forever, so you could look like a good mother by marrying me off quickly.'

I did not see this coming. I wonder if I can simply sneak away and hide out at Chris's place for, like, the next twenty years that it's going to take for all this to blow over? Even with the shadow cast upon our relationship at the moment, that is a better option than here. But for once in our lives, Effie needs me, so I guess I'm going nowhere.

‘No more, Ma, no more. I can't take any more. I'm going to look after myself and my kids. You can either support me or get out of my life. Your choice. I don't care if it embarrasses you in front of all the wogs. I don't care anymore.'

Mum is weeping quietly now. I think Effie's threat has finally gotten to her.

‘Forgive me, Effie
mou
, I so sorry my baby!'

My mother is asking for forgiveness? This is too weird.

‘I help you. Anything you want, I help you. I love you,
agapi mou
.'

Yeah, we all know that my mother loves us but her love can sometimes suffocate as well.

Hang on, where is she going? Mum's got her bag and is heading to the door. This is no time to go lean on Thia Maria's shoulder.

‘Where are you going, Ma?'

‘To the church, Despina. I light candle and pray for all of us.'

I don't think Mum will be back for a while. With all the souls she's going to be praying for, the church might run out of candles. I think I better find my father now. Time to make sure that he's okay as well. Who would have thought that I would be the one that would have to hold the family together in a time of crisis? I'm usually the first to fall apart.

Here he his, on his ledge. His own little concrete seat in the middle of the garden. Dad can sit here for hours surrounded by his flowers, his trees, his vegetables and his greenhouse. Out of sight from everyone. I think Dad has always felt more comfortable here than in his own house. But today, sitting out here, surrounded by his pride and joy, he somehow looks old. The lines around his eyes are more visible than ever before. He looks like he has aged twenty years in the last half hour.

‘Thank you, Despina
mou
.'

Poor Dad. Mum and Effie did such a good job of keeping him in the dark but suddenly the lights have come on. He can't fall apart on us now. Despite how strong a front Effie is putting up, she is going to need all of us and that includes Dad. Besides, I am finally starting to figure out the whole ‘father of the bride' stuff. I guess I am still somewhat optimistic that there will be a wedding.

‘She's going to be okay you know, Dad. Effie's going to be just fine.' She's got her whole family to support her. Even my mother will come around eventually and learn to live with the fact that divorce has entered our world.

‘I know, darling. But you are my children. I love you, but no can help you.'

Well, maybe if you weren't always hiding out here you'd realise we needed help before it was too late. I don't think that's what he needs to hear right now though.

‘We love you, too, Dad. But you can't fix this for Effie.

She has to do this her way.' And she's doing a damn fine job at it.

‘You children never let me fix anything for you. Never let me help. Now is too late. If I know before, maybe I do something.'

Like what? Chop off Andreas' balls? Give him a lobotomy without the aid of anaesthesia? Maybe if Dad hadn't been so buried in manure he would have realised that something was wrong.

‘Dad, you're always too busy in this garden or under the bonnet of your car to even realise what's going on. It's a bit late now to want to try fix something that's been broken for so long anyway.' Me and my big mouth. Some things are better left in the thought bubble in my head but, alas, my mouth seems to work a few minutes faster than my brain.

‘Sorry, Dad. But it's true.'

‘No, Despina
mou
. I always want to know. But when I try to help, you kids no need me. So I come here. When I come here, the trees, the garden, the vegetables, they need me. They need me to grow, to live. You children no need me. Look here. When Effie is born, I plant this lemon tree. For you, I plant the orange tree and for Tassouli, I plant the apricot. When you grow, they grow with you. For you I give this garden life. When you little you all come and help. You dig the holes for the tomatoes and water the plants.'

That was such a long time ago. Dad had bought me a little gardening set and I would shadow him, a drop of water here and a seed carefully placed there.

‘You cut the flowers and put in the bucket and try to make perfume. Then one day you stop. But I no stop. You, your sister, your brother, you all stop needing me.'

‘We just grew up, Dad.' Even as the words leave my mouth I can hear how lame they sound. He created this haven for us and we just walked away. There's more here than the vegetables that end up in my mother's kitchen. I never paid attention to the roses or the gardenias. How did I not notice the lavender that surrounds the garden bed? All my life, my mother has had fresh lavender in my room, telling me it would calm me down when I had nightmares and lull me back into a peaceful sleep. How could I not know that Dad grew this?

‘No more, Desi
mou
. You promise me, eh?'

What am I about to agree to? Because, right now, I would agree if he asked me to produce enough kids to field a soccer team.

‘What, Dad?'

‘You promise if you need help, if you in trouble, you come to me. I fix.'

I can do that. There's no guarantee that Dad could sort out the kind of trouble I create. But maybe when I'm all neurotic I can hide out here in the garden with him, letting the scent of the lavender calm me down.

‘Okay, Dad, I promise.' I think a hug will seal the deal. ‘Don't worry. Everything is going to work out.'

‘Tell me, Despina. Chris is good to you? No trouble?'

How do I answer this without setting off alarm bells in Dad's head? Chris hasn't done anything to hurt me but I feel he's pulling away. This is not what Dad needs to hear. He needs to hear that it's working out for at least one of his daughters. Let him focus on fixing Effie. She needs my parents' full attention right now.

‘Relax, Dad. Chris is good to me. He's nothing like Andreas. You can stop worrying about me.' Yeah, like that's ever going to happen.

‘Okay, baby
mou
. You help me cut some flowers for Effie. You take, make her feel better.'

‘Cut some lavender, too, Dad. It's my favourite'. And right now we could all use something to calm us down.

But what's the good of having a wedding dress when I still don't know if there is going to be a wedding? No matter what I try, Chris still won't tell me what happened between him and the mysterious Danielle. It's been over two months and still nothing. I should just let it go. My head tells me to stop stressing over it. He loves me, he wants to marry me, but my heart is terrified that whatever this horrible thing he did to her is, it will one day come back to haunt us.

All this doesn't stop me from being excited about my dress though. ‘Ricki, I can't wait till you see it!' Now all we have to do is find something for Ricki to wear. She met me here at Chris's place about two hours ago to go through
Vogue
and
Cosmo
magazines and we still haven't found anything she likes. My mind isn't really on the job though – I can't stop thinking about my own dress!

‘It's absolutely perfect, Rick. Not woggy, just classy.' Flick, and Ricki discards another glossy magazine. If she doesn't agree on a dress soon I am simply going to make her wear a frilly frock full of taffeta and sequins. And I will make sure it is pink. The ultimate revenge will be had. Even if it means that there is an unsightly spectacle at my wedding. She better agree on something soon. My patience is wearing thin.

‘If you could make up your mind on what the fuck you want to wear, my world would be complete, Ricki.' I have to keep planning. I have to believe that this wedding will happen and that once it does, this cloud that is constantly shadowing me will lift.

‘Relax, Des. There's plenty of time for my dress. Don't stress yourself out over it.'

How the hell can she remain so calm? This is my wedding. Everything has to be perfect. It just has to be.

‘Des, look!'

Ricki's jumping up and down holding a copy of the latest David Jones designer catalogue. Could it be that the great discovery has been made? Could it be that the great search for the maid of honour dress of the century has finally ended? Yes, folks, I think we have a winner!

Another wedding disaster averted. My maid of honour will not be walking down the aisle dressed in frills, nor will she be walking down in her birthday suit. She's picked a stunning lemon silk number, just below the knee and with a gorgeous one-shoulder neckline. Given that she has legs for miles, Ricki is going to look seriously hot.

‘It's perfect, Rick! You're going to look amazing!'

Okay, so attire has all been taken care of, the church and reception have been booked, wedding photography is organised, so are the florist, the cake, and the video recording of the whole event. The cars have been paid for, the suits have been ordered, my dress fittings are all scheduled. Holy shit, I think everything is done. I think I have actually planned my wedding! I can actually take it easy for the next couple of months and live in hope that I will survive the whole wog build-up that our parents have planned for us. But that shadow still lingers.

‘Des, what's wrong?'

Huh? I thought I'd hidden my doubts so well.

‘Why do you look like you are about to burst into tears any minute?'

Damn. I hate it that Ricki knows me so well. I can't hide anything from her.

‘It's nothing.' I can't tell Ricki about Danielle. She'll probably think I'm insane, creating drama where there is none.

‘Bullshit, Des. You've been planning this wedding like you're on autopilot. You've finalised everything but there's something eating away at you. It's like you don't believe it's going to happen.'

‘I don't.' There, I'm out with it.

‘Hey, hey, what's going on?'

The tissue she is handing me is not going to be enough to mop up the tears that have started falling. Thank God Ari took Chris out to hunt down the perfect shoes and tie for his suit and they are not here for this.

‘Desi, don't you want to marry Chris?'

‘Of course I do … but I think he might not want to marry me.'

‘You're insane, Des. You're my best friend and I love you but right now I want to smack you out for having such stupid thoughts. What on earth would make you think Chris doesn't want to marry you?'

I've hidden it so well for nearly three months; of course Ricki wouldn't see it.

‘His ex.' I can't bare to say her name out loud. ‘I think he's still got feelings for her.'

Ricki doesn't know anything about it. Chris tried to convince me that I was being silly and I almost believed him.

‘You think he's involved with an ex?'

Not in the way Ricki is thinking. I know he isn't seeing her. How do I explain this without sounding like a jealous, neurotic idiot?

‘No. Listen to me, Rick. He's not cheating on me with his ex or with anyone.' Chris is not the cheating kind. I believe that with all my being. Andreas is the cheating kind, and Chris is definitely not cut with that cloth. ‘But I think she has this hold over him. I thought I was being silly and that's why I didn't say anything, but one night, when I was making dinner and needed to change my top, I found a letter from her. I thought it was for me so I snooped.' Me and my snooping. Blissful ignorance is so much better. They say knowledge is power – but prime example here, knowledge is not power, knowledge is doubt. ‘It was from her, saying that when two people have a connection like theirs, everything can be forgiven and they should give it another go. She even had a photo of them in there. I tried to let it go at the time – I figured she was just an ex trying to get back something she had lost. But then there was a message on his answering machine one night and Chris convinced me it was a wrong number. And then just after we got engaged we ran into her.'