Good Greek Girls Don't (6 page)

‘Why didn't you tell me about this, Des?'

She's hurt and I can understand why. I know that if something like this had happened to her, I would want to kill the bastard. I would want to protect her. I know all this, and it's not that I couldn't trust Ricki. I just couldn't talk about it. I just wanted to pretend it didn't happen.

‘I can't believe it.' She's shaking her head at me. ‘You should have told me.'

‘Rick, you know I love you, but please just let it go. I don't want to talk about it.' Not while I'm driving, not ever. It happened, I've dealt with it, so let's just lock it up in that vault that will never be opened again. ‘It was a few times. I dealt with it and now it's over.' By the way she is shaking her head I can tell that Ricki is not ready to declare that this is over. But this is my call, not hers. Call me selfish, but I just don't want to do this tonight.

‘If I wasn't stuck up the fucking bush then I would have seen something, I would have known. Fuck I hate my job right now.'

She does not hate her job, she loves it. She just hates the direction it takes her in at times. And I have never heard the word fuck come out of her mouth so many times in such a short duration.

‘I can't do anything for anyone living at the other end of the world.'

‘Rick, you could have lived right next door to me and there was still nothing you could've done.' Doesn't she get it? There was nothing anyone could've done, because I kept it so private.

‘What were you thinking, Des? Why did you go back for more after the first time? Why didn't you come to me?'

Does she want me to tell her that I wasn't thinking? Because that's the truth. I wasn't thinking because I was so shell-shocked that my brain just shut down on me. And it took my brain a while to wake up and realise what was going on. Now it's all so fresh again, I can even feel the physical pain again. And it hurts so much. Please don't let me cry now. I never let anyone see me cry over him and I have no intention of starting now.

‘Rick, I know you mean well but please let it go. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want think about it and I don't want you to mention it ever again. That part of my life is over.' I think she gets the picture. We are not getting into this.

‘You know where I am when you need me because, honey, one day you are going to need to let this out.'

I don't think so. It'll be a cold day in hell when I talk about this one again.

My girlfriend Katerina is gorgeous. I love her and I can always count on her for a good deep and meaningful. Except for one thing. Ever since she got married and popped out a couple of kids her main mission in life has been to see me settled, too. Luckily, she's not as brutal about it as Thia Maria. And Katerina is actually quite selective about who she wants to see me settled with. She only has one target. Her
koumbaro
. The best man from her wedding. Katerina is convinced that we are perfect for each other and the thought of getting the two of us together seems to consume her every waking moment. I keep telling her that she really needs to get a hobby. Unfortunately for me, she apparently already has one – professional matchmaker. Got to love her though. The way she schemes to get me and her
koumbaro
in the same place at the same time is quite impressive. Almost up to my standard. Almost, but not quite. And this is why I am always one step ahead of her and catch onto her schemes. She's a relentless cupid but she really needs to sharpen her aim.

So I'm sitting at work contemplating all the staff assessments that I have to get through, when Katerina calls, trying to convince me that I simply have to go to a barbecue at her place this Saturday night.

‘Come on, Des. You have to come. I need your help.'

This is a sure fire way to get me there. A guilt trip. I know that Katerina's family is not the sort to help her out with anything like this. Usually when us wogs get together there's a brawl between the women over who gets to do the dishes and who gets to clean the place up so that the hostess won't have too much to do the next day. Someone always brings something to add to the table, usually a dessert. Not Katerina's family. They get there just as food is about to be served and expect to be waited on hand and foot while they lounge about. And that's just the women. The men do their bit by actually cooking the barbecue and consuming copious amounts of beer. So yeah, with Katerina I am a sucker for a guilt trip and the bitch knows it. After all, she has two kids under the age of five and she's almost seven months pregnant with her next, praying that she'll have a boy after two girls, otherwise she'll keep popping them out until she finally has one.

‘Kati, don't do this to me. I've got plans.'

‘Bullshit, you'll lounge around till about nine at night and then start getting ready to hit some bars. Be original, Des.'

She's not going to give up on this. She's going to push and push until I say yes, just so she'll shut up.

‘Who's going to be there?' I ask cautiously.

‘The usual.'

Oh, yeah, that answer tells me all I need to know. The fact that she won't give me a straight answer is confirmation that the illustrious koumbaro will be there.

‘My folks, George's folks, brothers, sisters, partners, kids and sidekicks …
koumbari
.'

Bingo. ‘Kati, I know what you're up to.'

‘Okay, okay, Des, Chris is going to be there, too. It's not like you're strangers anyway. You were at the same table at Stella's christening. I saw you chatting away.'

Yeah, sure, chatting away – him asking me if I wanted something to drink, me fighting the urge to throw up as I was still recovering from the mother of all hangovers caused by my break-up with Denny the night before. Real riveting conversation was had that night.

‘Kati, he is not my type.' How many times do I have to tell her this? I constantly repeat this same line to her but, as usual, it falls on deaf ears. I'm starting to sound like a broken record. She is convinced that she knows what is best for me. Just how many people other than me know what is best for me? I must be the only one who doesn't know what is best for me.

‘Look, I need you Saturday night. Make a big tub of rice, too.'

Not only does she demand that I show up, she also expects me to be domestic. Her kids are screaming in the background and I feel this conversation about to come to a sudden end.

‘
Aspasia
, Stella, shut up before I lock you both in the laundry. Des, I have to go. Be here by four so that you can help me set up, okay.'

Click. Dial tone.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.' I don't know what's causing my headache, the thought of Saturday night or the fact that I am repeatedly banging my head on my desk. ‘Shit shit shit. Fuck me dead!'

‘Now that would be no fun.' Standing behind me enjoying my moment of insanity is my manager, Adrian. He's okay. He can take a joke and is a sucker for a sob story if you need or want to take some unexpected leave.

‘I'd rather do you alive and kicking, darling.'

‘Yeah, yeah I know, if any woman can make you hetero, it's me.' Adrian has made no secret of the fact that he is gay, but at the same time he doesn't flaunt it. He's an alright boss. He's the one that pushed me to take on a team leader role when responsibility wasn't in my vocabulary. And he'll always buy the first round at Friday night drinks.

‘Sorry, Adrian, you're the wrong nationality. My mother would kill me if I took a non-Greek non-hairy-chested man home.'

It clicks that he's here for something more than to laugh at my sorry state. ‘What's up, Adrian?'

‘I need the incoming call stats for the week so far.'

Thank God he has asked for something that I have actually done. Productivity today is practically nil. I flick him the folder and aimlessly stare at the assessments that I have to tackle. Out of fifteen, only four are done and I can guarantee that no more will be done today. I can't focus on anything other than trying to figure out just what Katerina plans on doing Saturday because I know, whether I like it or not, I will be there. Her guilt trip worked and she's got me right where she wants me. Bitch bitch bitch, she's getting better at the manipulation thing. She's been hanging around me for way too long.

I still can't believe I let myself get roped into this. I need my head read. I do not want to be at a barbecue at Katerina's. I do not want to be set up with some dope who can't get himself a date. Actually, he's a decent looking guy so I can't understand why he can't get himself a date. There's obviously something fundamentally wrong with him. Maybe he's gay and Katerina wants me to confirm it. That's got to be it. Why am I not convinced of this? Why do I know deep down in my gut that this Chris isn't gay? Why am I so nervous about this whole thing? All I have to do is go in there and, if the situation calls for it, be my sweet, sarcastic, smart arse self and put an end to it all. That's what I'll do. Be myself and finally put an end to Kati's ridiculous matchmaking attempts. It'll serve her right when this all blows up in her face. After all, I've been up since six this morning making fried rice and a cake and it's her bloody fault that I am now sitting in the car outside her place trying to figure out just how the hell I am going to make it up the steps without dropping everything. I know I'm talented but juggling is one skill I forgot to master.

Okay, I can do this. I can get out of the car and carefully balance the dishes. Here I go. Amazingly, I make it up the stairs and I even manage to knock on her door without loosing the rice or the cake. God I'm such a wog. No matter how hard I try to deny it, I am what I am: a wog. After all, I'm here with a tub of rice and a cake and I didn't even cheat and get my mother to make it. In fact, I think my mother almost had a heart attack when she saw me making a walnut cake in the kitchen. I think she thought I didn't actually know where the kitchen was or what it was used for. I swear she was crossing herself when she saw me. You'd think she just witnessed a miracle or something.

‘What the hell are you wearing, Des?' What sort of a greeting is that after I have slaved in a hot kitchen all day for her?

‘Jeans and a tank top, Kati. You remember those from your pre-pregnancy days don't you?' Okay, I'm a bitch, but she deserved that one. ‘You want to help me with this stuff.' At least she has taken the rice from me so now I can juggle the cake and my handbag.

‘Couldn't you have worn a skirt or something? Y'know, dressed up a bit?'

Geez, what sort of image of me does she want to present?

‘Kati, last time I checked, jeans were perfectly acceptable for a barbecue. Besides, I may be stuck in the kitchen with you, but I am not dressing like a 1950s wog wife.'

‘I knew you wouldn't let me down. Deep down, you're just a softie.'

‘Shut up, Kati.' God, it's a good thing she's pregnant otherwise there is no way I would have taken the bait. ‘I'm only here to help you out. Soon as the major stuff is done, I am out of here.' Bitchiness in the voice is so evident. Katerina just laughs at me. I can't believe that she finds all this amusing. And she knows as well as I do that the major stuff won't be over till at least two in the morning. God, it's only just gone four. It's going to be a long night.

Looking over at Katerina, I've got to ask.

‘So how much time have we got before the masses arrive?' It's six-thirty; I know I don't have long. Ding dong. I don't have long at all.

‘About that much time.' Katerina runs to the door before the kids get there.

Please don't let that be him. Please let him be the last to arrive so this night won't drag on for an eternity.