Good Greek Girls Don't (4 page)

Home again, home again. Thank God another day is over. Only two more to go, then a long weekend. Friday, Saturday and Sunday all to myself. What a killer work was today. Tuesdays are always pretty shit. Team brief days, so I basically have to tell my whole team that their performance sucks, then I have to try motivate them to actually show up to work. Like that's going to happen.

As I pull into the driveway I see a familiar car. Oh, shit, why is Thia Maria here? Why isn't Sophia's mum off at home making sure that everyone left an appropriately priced gift for her darling daughter? Why is she here when I want to have my power nap? Only one way to find out. I can be brave, I can face her. Here I go.

I'm going to kill her. I am going to rip her lungs out through her nostrils. I can't believe that fucking cow has got the nerve to do this to me. How dare she? Who the hell does she think she is? I do
not
need this bullshit.

I've had a long day. Dealing with my team and the customers they can't handle has totally drained me, so, like all good Greek children, I expect to go home, eat whatever my mother has cooked for dinner and unwind in front of the TV for a couple of hours before meeting up with friends. That's not a lot to ask for, is it? Apparently it is. I can't have a nice quiet couple of hours; instead I have to arrive home to be confronted by Thia Maria and some pathetic ‘just gotten off the boat from Greece and am looking for a wife' man. I can't believe she is doing this to me. Just because she managed to offload her darling Sophia into a miserable farce of a marriage, she thinks that I should be next. I know that misery loves company, but I can be miserable all on my own. I do not need to keep company with Sophia – suicide would be a more welcome solution.

‘Thia Maria.' I bend down and give my aunty the obligatory kiss on the cheek and ask the standard questions. ‘How are you? How are the kids enjoying Greece?' Yak, yak, yak … like I care.

‘Very good, Despina mou. The children are very good. How is your job? You supervisor now, eh?'

Ah Greeks, even in their broken English they can still get the message across, and the message that my aunty wanted to get across was that I had a good job with good money. Perfect wife and mortgage material. All the while, this swamp creature is sitting on my couch, ogling my boobs. Oh, yuck. At least if he didn't look like he'd just been dragged out of a lagoon I could take it as a compliment. And I'm not talking about the blue lagoon here.

‘Yes, Thia, I am a team leader. Yes, it's very demanding.' I start to head towards my bedroom when my mother intervenes.

‘Despina, where you think you go? Sit down. We have visitors.' From outer space she should have added. ‘Sit down.'

‘Ma, I'm just putting my things away okay. I'll be back.' I have to answer my mother nice and slowly to assure that I won't be jumping out of the second storey window to make a run for freedom, thus causing her no end of embarrassment in front of my aunty and the Ape Man. Nah, I won't escape, yet. But when I do escape it will be with style, with the sort of grace and dignity that befits me. Through lies and deception.

As soon as I hit the safe haven of my bedroom I pull out my mobile and dial work. I have to be quick otherwise my mother will know that I am up to something and she'll come looking for me.

‘Knee-breaking incorporated. Need a debt collected –let us know.'

What the hell happens in that office when the management team is out of earshot? I'm going to kill Shane. He's just ripped off one of my lines.

‘Shane, you're a dead man. What the hell are you doing answering the phone like that? It could have been the boss.' Shane and I both know it wouldn't have been a customer because I called an internal number, but it's still not on.

‘Caller ID, Des. I knew it was you.' Prick. ‘So what do you want, what did you forget to do this time?'

‘Nothing babe, I need a favour.' And the little prick is going to make me pay, I just know it. But in this instance I am not above bribery and Shane is not above accepting.

‘What's up and what's in it for me?'

I've only got time for the reader's digest version. ‘Well-meaning aunty with an off-the-boater.'

He's a bright boy, Shane. He gets the drift. ‘Call me at home pronto with some bullshit that requires my attention.'

‘I ask again, oh, team leader of mine … what's in it for me?'

‘Do you ever want to get another favourable assessment again, Shane? Just do it and do it quickly.' I can't believe the little turd finds this amusing. From the sound of his laughter he is already rolling around on the floor. ‘And I'll swing you some development time.' To Shane, development time simply means that he'll be able to piss off work two hours early if I time it right. It'll be worth it if he gets me out of this torture.

‘Okay, okay. Relax, Des, I'll do it … eventually.'

If that little turd makes me wait too long I will do more call observations on him than I do for my whole team.

‘Ten minutes, Shane. Tops.' I hang up the phone and walk back downstairs, and, predictably, they are halfway through a conversation about my wifely attributes.

‘That's very good for Despina.' Thia Maria is singing my praises. ‘To have house so young.'

That's rich. First they want to marry me off because I'm over the hill and now I'm an ‘impressive young homeowner'.

Ape Man just nods in agreement. Like he's ever going to get the chance to see it.

‘Ah, Despina, you are back. Sit here with me.' My aunty is patting the spot beside her like I am a little puppy dog whose attention she is trying to get. But like the good obedient Greek girl that I am, I plonk my butt down beside her. The only other option is to sit next to Ape Man and that just isn't going to happen.

Ring, Shane, you little creep. Ring!

It's time for the introductions. ‘Despina, this Petro, he is my koumbaro's nephew from Greece. Petro, this my niece Despina.' Ape Man has thrust his hand in my face and is waiting for a handshake. There is no way that I am touching that thing. There's hair growing all over his knuckles.

‘Yeah hi, how's it going?' Good response, casual, not bitchy, and no eye contact made. But the look on my mother's face says it all. Behave or all hell will break loose.

‘Well, thank you, Despina.'

This guy's accent is worse than my parents. He should have SBS subtitles flashing past every time he opens his mouth.

‘Your aunty speak very well of you.'

Oh, God, just what has that woman been saying about me?

‘You have good job and house. Is very important for girl to have.'

I can't let this one slide. It's too good an opportunity to pass up. ‘Funny thing about us girls here in Australia, Petro.' I'm going in for the kill. ‘We don't need a man to look after us, we can do that all on our own, and whatever we do isn't to keep a man happy. We do it to keep ourselves happy.' Whoosh, the look on his face is self-explanatory; it all went right through to the wicket keeper. Comprehension level of Ape Man: zilch.

‘Is good.' Again with the greedy nod. ‘When you marry you have no worries to stay home and have babies.'

Apparently this bastard is not only counting my dollars, he's also counting my eggs. Hurry up, Shane, or work life will be so miserable that it will make hell look like a picnic. I will monitor all your breaks, all your personal calls, and all your statistics will be looked at under a fine microscope.

‘Hey, Petro, get off the fucking arc.' When all else fails the Desi golden rule of life is to fall back on profanities.

Always a good backup plan. Six eyes stare at me in amazement, three mouths gape open, yet strangely, not a sound comes out of any of them. My mother starts composing a half decent apology on behalf of her psychotic, demonic-possessed daughter.

The phone rings – thank God. ‘Hello.' Voice calm, a tad casual – excellent.

‘Good evening, this is rent-a-disaster. You need one and we shall create on demand.'

Ah, that voice is music to my ears. Shane you are my hero! Not that I would ever let him know that.

‘Shane, what's up?'

‘Just making life easier.'

I utter a series of uh-ha's, okay's and hmm's. ‘Look, Shane, don't worry, I'll be there in fifteen minutes.' I make sure this is said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

‘Sure sure, let me guess, you'll be sucking back lattes down Chapel Street with your buddies while I'm still working.'

‘Thanks for letting me know, Shane. I'll be there soon.' I lie with such ease that it's scary.

‘You owe me, Des.'

Click, dead line. My mother and guests are still stunned into silence.

‘Emergency at work, Ma. Gotta go.' The look on her face says it all. Liar. Why can my mother always see right through me? It's not fair. ‘I'm first recall, Ma. I have to go.' Handbag and keys in hand. ‘Call you later. Bye Thia Maria. Bye Peter, Paul, Pest … sorry, Petro.'

I can't believe my mother let my aunty do that. She should have chased her out of the house. She should have stuck up for me. After all, I am her daughter. I can just imagine the apologies that my mum is giving to my aunty and Ape Man, telling them that I haven't recovered from my break up with Denny, that I am stressed out from work, a million excuses explaining her demonic daughter's behaviour. I can't believe that my mother would be so desperate to get me out of the house that she would allow that ‘thing' into the house. I mean, if all she wants to do is get rid of me, all she has to do is say the word and I'll kick the tenants out of the little unit I bought when I was eighteen and started working part-time. But hell no, my mother would not allow that. As far as she is concerned good Greek children leave home one of two ways: married or dead. There is no other option. However returning home tonight is definitely not a good idea, at least not until I'm sure that my mother has taken a sedative and gone to bed. Must avoid mother at all costs until the volcano within her decides it will not erupt as soon as she sees me. Oh, the things I have to do to keep the peace in the family. I better find somewhere to hide till it's time to meet my best friend, Ricki, for coffee. At least she will be sympathetic to my plight. But where to go until then?

‘Des, relax already, you're wearing out the flooring pacing like that.' How can he tell me to relax? Now that Thia Maria has started there's no telling what stunt she is going to try next.

‘Just tell them that you're madly in love with me and having my illegitimate love child and I'm sure they'll leave you alone.' Leave me alone. I wish. If I told my family I was involved with Michael in any romantic way they would shoot me or lock me up in the first monastery that they find. Nothing against the guy personally, it's just something my parents have against his whole race. It's the whole Greek–Turkish history thing. It's been so full of bloodshed that never shall the two meet in any peaceful way. It's also a religious thing. The two religions are simply not compatible. In my parent's eyes, marrying a Turk would be worse than not marrying at all. Not that it would be an issue with Michael. He's one of my dearest friends. Anything romantic with him would be like incest, although we have decided that when we are in our nineties and all of our relatives are dead and we're probably both still single that we will have a mad passionate affair.

I came straight to Michael's kebab shop. Apart from needing to chew his ear off, I needed to chew on something tasty. I hadn't eaten all day, and Michael's family makes the best kebabs in Melbourne. Say anything you want about Turks, but as far as I'm concerned don't knock their kebabs. Delicious.