Read In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree Online

Authors: Sara Alexi

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Literary, #Travel, #Europe, #Greece, #General, #Literary Fiction

In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree (24 page)

BOOK: In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree
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Chapter 23

 

Age 65 Years

 

Outside, the sun is shining. Around the fountain, which has been dry for years now, crisp packets skit in the bottom with the slight breeze. Migrant workers sit on its surrounding wall, under the palm tree, waiting for work. Their shoulders slump, their clothes are ill-fitting, hair uncut.

Vasso is taking the thin metal shutters off the front of the drink fridges that line either side of the kiosk. She stacks them out of sight and turns her attention to the newspapers, which she hangs on a string around the kiosk at eye level, securing them with clothes pegs.

A cat wanders past and turns to spray a crate of empty beer bottles waiting to be collected.


Psssht!’ Vasso stamps her foot and the animal runs off.

She removes her headscarf, pockets it, and pats her hair to check its shape. She looks up at the sky and smiles to herself before stepping into the kiosk ready for the day.

Beyond the kiosk, the
ouzeri
belonging to Stella, the Gypsy girl who once had stones thrown at her on her way to school, is closed, the chairs upturned on the outside tables, the fairy lights wrapped around the tree by the door switched off. Now she feeds the village, but she will not open today.

The bakery, opposite Stella
’s, is open. A trickle of village women in slippers, headscarves, and housecoats come and go, picking up the day’s bread for their families.

Theo looks up towards the pines on the hill, and Mitsos
’ house nestled just in front. He hopes everything is okay as he throws back the covers.

The semi-circular glass door slides open with a push. One twist, and the water runs hot. He showers and shaves carefully then wraps himself in his thick, navy blue dressing gown. Even when wet, his hair tries to bounce back into a halo of curls.

He dresses carefully and struggles with his tie. He has never seen the purpose of ties, and he curses gently until the knot is about the right size and the ends the right length. It feels like it is choking him, but it is only for one day, not even that, just until the church service is over. He pads across the thick carpet to the top of the stairs to put on his shoes, which he polished specially the night before. Above the shoe rack hangs the photograph of Bob, the metal frame engraved with his name and his dates. Theo’s finger rubs Bob’s face. He still misses him, but he lived a good, long life. He smiles at the memory, but his heart feels momentarily heavy.

Tripping down the stairs, he trots around to the
kafeneio
, opens the doors wide and, stepping into his kingdom, is overcome with a yawn and stretches. He needs some caffeine.

Water, sugar, coffee, patience.

‘Morning, Theo.’


You’re early, Mitsos? Too nervous to sleep, eh?’


No. Yes. Probably. Worried she might change her mind.’


The way she looks at you? There is no way she is changing her mind,’ Theo says.


We are old men now, Theo. I turned sixty-six last week and you are only a few months younger than me. Maybe it is a little crazy for me to be marrying at this age?’ Mitsos shakes his head, leaning the shepherd’s crook that he now uses as a walking stick against a table, and sits down.


Cold feet?’ Theo takes the coffee off the stove and pours it from a great height into a small cup. Lots of bubbles. Mitsos jerks his thumb toward the shelf where the
ouzo
and brandy bottles are lined up, indicating that Theo should lace the drink with something stronger.

The other end of the counter is adorned with a couple of glasses filled with little paper umbrellas, sticks topped with hair of coloured foil, brightly hued twirlers and plastic slices of lemon and orange. A menu of cocktails is propped against a beer glass. The shelves behind the counter are full of bottles of drink from every corner of the world. The
kafeneio
now doubles as a bar. It did its job, brought in the young men, but that was twenty years ago and those young men are not so young any more. To the current generation, it is as it has always been, just a part of the old men’s’
kafeneio
. They do not come in. They do not even stay in the village at night. Instead, they drive on noisy, souped-up mopeds to the nightclubs in Saros and come back at dawn.

The
kafeneio
continues as it always has done, a little behind the times.

Theo dribbles whiskey into Mitsos
’ coffee.


Am I doing right, Theo?’ Mitsos asks.


Mitsos, my dear friend, you and Stella are the perfect match. She is younger than you, but all the better—she will keep you alive. If she wants a ring on her finger and you have no objections, then why not?’ Theo wipes down the counter, swills out the cloth, and hangs it on its hook by the sink.


And so Tasia still won’t marry you?’


Ah, Tasia.’ Theo reaches for another cup to make his own coffee. ‘Tasia is not your average woman.’ A smile stretches across his face, his feet shuffle with energy, and his hair responds by bouncing.


Neither is Stella,’ Mitsos counters.


That’s true enough. Stella is more full of life and energy than most women, but she has a calm centre and puts others before herself. Tasia, on the other hand, is such a hothead. She has a
briki
of rage that boils over with only the slightest of warnings. No, for us it works well. She likes her house over there.’ He nods toward one edge of the village. ‘Near her precious olive trees. And I like to visit.’ Theo chuckles, his eyes lighting up, thoughts making them dance.


Still odd, a woman who doesn’t want a ring.’ Mitsos sips his coffee.


Do you remember the plans we tried to make when her Baba died, and she was alone in that house in the middle of her olive grove? We couldn’t get her interested.’ Theo shrugs.


I think that was when I really got to know her, she played along for a couple of weeks before putting a stop to it.’ Mitsos laughs with a nervous edge and leans back in his chair. Theo takes his coffee to join him.


She still says I am too bossy in the house, that I get in her way, she is used to being on her own now. She likes it. She likes her independence. But do you know what she said the other day? She says we can live together when we are so old we can no longer cope on our own.’ He laughs.


It’s all too modern for me, but it must work. You are the most content man I know.’ Mitsos takes a sip and checks down at his suit to make sure he hasn’t dripped, runs his hand across his chin, feeling for where the razor may have missed.


Tasia is not a usual woman.’ Theo checks in his pocket to make sure he has the rings.


I’m going to the church. I must find the Papas …’ Mitsos cannot sit still.


But it is hours yet.’ Theo looks at his watch. Mitsos shrugs. ‘Ok, I’ll be along soon.’

Mitsos is trying not to use his shepherd
’s crook as a walking stick today but as Theo watches him go he can tell he is struggling. He will take the crook to the church later in case Mitso’s need increases.

With the cups washed and dried he calls Tasia, but there is no answer. Ten minutes later, still no answer. There
’s no one in the
kafeneio
so he locks up and strides out in his stiff shoes and tight trousers to the olive grove. Past Thanasi’s donkey breeding place and round the corner, the monkey puzzle tree comes in sight.

Soon after they took possession of the olive grove he planted all of the seeds he had picked up that day of the earthquake. Not all of them sprouted, but with careful watering and Tasia
’s green fingers one or two grew strong. The most vigorous of those seedlings grew tall and now shadows the little stone cottage by its side. The cottage where she sleeps, sometime where he sleeps, where they love and laugh and she lives her dream.

There is no sign of her at the cottage though. Theo wanders amongst the olives and finds her up a tree, pruning in the early morning light. Her hand flies to her mouth when she sees him, unusually smart in his suit and tie.

‘You forgot, didn’t you?’ But the radiance of her smile disarms him and he cannot be cross. Her greying hair is over her face and her clothes are rough and stained, and she looks every bit the farmer’s wife as she climbs down the ladder.


Hurry, woman, if you take too long we will be late.’

Theo jiggles the rings in his pocket, and paces the yard at the front of her tiny stone cottage. To one side the olive trees extend out into the distance, and to the other the land drops away to reveal the plain spread out as far as the sea, glinting gold in the morning sun.
Theo has sat at the base of the monkey puzzle tree for hours. It provides little shade but it is here that he wooed Tasia. First with short visits whilst her Baba was still alive and slowly longer and longer ones, with wine and fresh bread and tomatoes from the vines they planted together. The ground beneath worn smooth over the years by, their love became all consuming. As his love grew so did his desire to marry her, but she remained steadfast in her independence until one day she said, ‘Why are you not happy just as we are? We have solid roots you and I, we are strong together as we are, don’t force us to grow in a different direction.’ And Theo lay back and looked up through the branches to the sky.


There are olives and pines but one will not grow like the other,’ she said.


But a man and woman should marry,’ Theo replied.


You cannot tend an olive like a pine, let us be Theo, I am not like the women of the village, I am like this tree.’ She slapped bark of the Monkey Puzzle. ‘A bit prickly and a little different’ and then she laughed her laugh and Theo pulled her down onto the ground to join him in the sunlight breaking through the branches, highlighting her hair and her face.

He eases himself
up. The partial shade is such a relief when he is all dressed up like this. He sits tentatively trying to not to crease his trousers and glances behind him to see if she is coming.


Tasia we are going to be late!’ he calls and then leans back, hands behind his head, feet outstretched.

Under the trees insects buzz in the warmth. One of Thanasis
’ donkeys brays a long lonely call. Theo closes his eyes and allows his mind to drift as he waits.

As gentle as a child
’s eyelashes she lets her hair fall on his face. He opens his eyes and smiles, looking as deeply into her as he can. He opens his mouth, time is passing, they need to make a move.


Shh,’ she whispers and her mouth covers his.

 

<<##>>

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Also by Sara Alexi

 

The Illegal Gardener

Black Butterflies

The Explosive Nature of Friendship

The Gypsy’s Dream

The Art of Becoming Homeless

BOOK: In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree
3.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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