Surrender: The Greek Affair Series Book One (6 page)

The early evening slides by. Hope takes a walk to the port to buy some papers. She sits in one of the cafés for a cold fruit juice. Tonight she’s having dinner with Giánni and Anika, and will not be eating at 7 pm as she likes to, but much later, and after today’s conversation with Jason she should try and make an effort not to be everywhere alone and stand out so much.

She watches the myriads of people partaking in their afternoon
vólta
(a stroll). She loves this late afternoon dance that Greeks do during the summer months and she tries to participate as much as possible for a woman on her own.

This evening she is sitting in a café at the port in front of where the private yachts come and moor, under the fortress. Sometimes a very big one comes in and the tongues fly that it’s some prince, but no one really knows who owns the massive boat. There are cars at the port as they get off and on the ferry-boats, trucks that come and go, to and from the mainland and other islands for commercial reasons. This is something that has been going on for thousands of years, the transportation of goods via the sea, making Greece one of the world’s great seafaring countries to this day, with all its history built around the sea.

The main road arteries for the island to the other villages begins here and as pretty as it is, it is not as quiet, or as clean as the rest of the town, but it is a sight and you do get a feeling of the heart -beat of the island, where everything begins and connects as it has done over the millenniums.

It’s about nine o’clock and Hope meanders through the cobbled stone side streets to get to the tavern, to meet with Giánni and Anika. Even the side streets are enticing to her. They are narrow like a labyrinth; no cars are allowed and even though they seem random, in the end all streets lead somewhere.

Once she’s out of the centre, the homes become sparse and she can tell they are modern constructions. The town is world heritage and the new buildings are on the periphery of the town, where permits are given to build new homes. It is greener and quieter, and the streets are asphalt and there are cars.

She meanders through the maze and she is careful to follow directions that were given, as it is easy to lose oneself in the cascade of side streets on a Greek island town or village. She comes to a clearing and she can see in front of her a
tavérna
, a building where all the cooking is done and where it doubles for the tavérna in winter months, and the outside has scattered, (in an orderly fashion), some tables and chairs. It is not crowded yet as it is early for most Greeks, but it seems to be filling slowly, as she can see people approaching and standing to be seated.

She stands for a minute or two and scans with her eyes to find Giánni and Anika, hoping she has not arrived early. She sees them sitting at a table at the edge near the fence that is there to cut it off from whoever owns the next piece of land. They see her too, and they both wave simultaneously and beckon Hope over.

She has to weave past a few tables to get to them, with her eyes ahead and careful not to bump into people, she does not notice who the people are, sitting at the tables as she passes, but she hears someone call her name in a low strong voice.

“Hope!” As she looks around, she sees Jason, two tables removed from where she will be sitting with a group of what she assumes are his friends; young women and men. He rises and comes towards her. Her blood is pumping in her ears and she doesn’t know if it is from embarrassment, fear or excitement.

Goddamn it, he’s gorgeous! He takes hold of both her hands as if she has known him all her life and holds her at a distance looking into her face with a look she cannot recognise, and in that moment she knows that the sex would be sheet-tearingly hot.

“Hope, clean you brain cells out”, she tells herself. As he is holding her hands at arm’s length he looks deep into her eyes and very casually invites her to join his table.

“Thank you, but for once I’m not alone,” and she nods her head over her shoulder towards her table and friends. He looks and gives her a knowing smile.

“You trying to prove something to me?”

She looks at him with a straight face while he is still holding her hands.

“Prove what?” she says pretending not to understand and takes her hands away from his grasp.

“I must go join my friends,” she says and he stands in that one spot and watches her move away. Hope looks around and sees him turn and go back to his table.

She walks across the length of the
tavérna
to her friends, knowing he might be looking at her back. And after placing kisses on each of her friends on both cheeks, she sits opposite them, noticing Anika looking radiant and suntanned and complimenting her very blonde hair and ice blue eyes, which in turn contrasted dramatically with Giánni’s swarthy dark and gentle looks, and with his warm dark brown eyes. Hope sees how they look good together.

The three of them scan the menu and Hope feels lost and confused at the variety of dishes that is truly Greek and also regional, to this part of the country. It’s mouth-watering and lip smacking, salivatingly good. Apart from the endless variety of
mezé
, (morsels of food) there are local recipes, especially in seafood (as the seafood is in abundance here). And what might be considered a luxury in another part of Greece is considered mainstream eating here; crayfish with pasta, coming under the very long word astakomakaronáda (crayfish pasta), and karavídes, a type of scampi. King prawns with rice, but the menu is rich in home grown vegetable dishes. The mouth waters before there is even a chance to decide. Eating out is almost hedonistic in Greece, and definitely ritualistic. Eating must be done slowly, drinking even more slowly, and there are types of food that can only be eaten with the hands.

The bus boy has already covered the table with butcher’s paper (that has the name of the establishment printed on it) and brought to the table the mandatory basket of bread, which also contains the cutlery. There is a pitcher of cold water. Greeks drink a lot of water and Hope often wonders where the endless amount of very cold water comes from, served to all the tables over a long drawn out ritualistic length of time taken to eating, amongst the patrons.

The waiter comes over and rattles off the specials and the recommendations. It’s an art to be able to do this and some waiters seem to have that slippery, silver tongue, and tonight it’s one of these. Anika and Hope let Gianni put their menu together, even though he asks what they would like to eat. It was easier this way.

They order a bottle of white wine, native to this island (although popular all over Greece now), glasses arrive, and so too does the first cold
mezé
an array of dips;
tirokafterí
(a cheese dip that is spicy hot), a shrimp dip and a delicious red pepper dip, to mop up the alcohol, as it is a habit not to drink on an empty stomach in Greek culinary culture.

They settle back, fill their glasses, and clink them together.

“Stin iyiá mas.”
(To our health)

Giánni looks over at Hope with a mischievous glint in his eye, “So what’s with the guy who greeted you?” The question surprises Hope and she feels herself heating up and feels vulnerable all of a sudden.

“What? Nothing.” Fiddling with her paper napkin, as she tends to do, (and usually make flowers out of them when she is out eating).

“He did not look as if it was nothing.”

“Ah Giánni, how can you tell what he looks like from this far away!” she is irritated, but in a strange way not offended by his curiosity.

“He held your hands, and looked into your eyes; your body language gave away both of you.”

She laughs and it’s a nervous laugh at that, “Giánni, he is too young.”

With this Anika’s eyebrows raise as she points at Giánni and herself with her finger going back and forth between themselves.

“What are you on about?” She exclaims with that cultured northern European, slightly accented, perfect English. They had a substantial age difference from what Hope can tell, Anika being older.

“You’re making weak excuses, ‘Do I like him?’, should be the question on your mind.” says Anika with an irritated tone in her voice.

“Guys, I don’t know yet. I’ll see.”

And with that, Hope dismisses any further conversation about the beautiful man with the deep green eyes and moves on to other topics. She finds out that Giánni will be moving to Belgium to live with Anika at the end of the Summer and he will try to find work there. “Wow,” thinks Hope, “How brave on her part and on his too”.

The food is spectacular, as usual. They sit for hours eating, drinking and talking. The evening is warm but as it is always, the sea breeze brushes their cheeks and bare skin and cools them.

There is nothing like a summer night on a Greek island; the stars, the breeze, the atmosphere of people being out of their homes en- masse. It plays on the senses in ways that Hope has not experienced anywhere else. It is these comfort zones inherent in a holiday on a Greek island, that makes her wary of what she sees in Jason.

But tonight, she is busy, concentrating on the table. The food is typical of this island, with an abundance of seafood and vegetables. There is so much colour laid out in front of them. The black-eyed string beans make up one of the salads with olive oil and lemon, sprinkled with fresh mint and dill, Greeks consume an incredible amount of olive oil and lemons. The local cheese (
kalatháki
, meaning
basket
, as it is formed in a small basket), can be fried and served with fresh lemon. There are the zucchini and eggplant fritters with
skordaliá
(garlic sauce made with potato, almonds and olive oil). And for mains, they have the
flomária
(local pasta) with crayfish and
flomária
, with cockerel. And this is all washed down with the unique local white wine that is sweet scented floral to the nose and slightly honeyed to the mouth, even though it is a dry wine. And always the mandatory fresh, summer bright red tomatoes, locally grown and drizzled with Greek olive oil, sprinkled with oregano - a taste to kill for!

They finish late and when they get up to go, Hope notices that Jason and his
paréa
(a group of friends) have gone. She did not see him all night, as she had her back to him but was painfully aware that she must not turn around at any time. Giánni and Anika walk her home, just for the company, but she never feels out of sync walking home on her own on this island, no matter how late it is.

The next day Hope repeats her routine, as she will for the next few days; she would go to the beach, lay around each day a little longer, go home, have a shower, have a short siesta, have an afternoon coffee on her veranda listening to music, and then get dressed, go to the retaining wall and wait for Jason.

It has become a habit and she expects him to be there every day, even for a few minutes, (that was all he could stay for, since he was on duty), it never occurs to her to ask him why he was her way every week day at the same time. She just took it for granted and expected to see him.

Never did he ask for her phone number, approach her or touch her, except for the night at the tavern, when he had held her hands for a few minutes and looked into her eyes, but she is not sure if she wants to touch him again.

Hope is good at building walls! She has done it all her life, since she has been a child, and yet she craves intimacy. She is not aware of these contradictions within herself.

It seems that Jason had worked out the time Hope would be there, and she would find him waiting for her, and there seemed to be order in that.

On this one day, he is not there. She is devastated by his absence. She has taken it for granted, that this gorgeous example of a man would be waiting for her every afternoon.

Dear God, what a feeling this was! She is shocked and exhilarated by the notion that she could even feel this strongly about an afternoon chat with a man. She drags herself into reality again and decides to walk up to the fortress. She walks to the base of the hill and begins to climb. She is half way up, when she stops, to look out to the sea.

She was a fair distance from the meeting spot and as she looks around, he is there, sitting on the bench and staring out to the sea.

Suddenly Hope is in a panic. How does she get back down, get to him quickly before he has time to leave and not show that she is eager or that she even cares, because she does not care, she tells herself, even though her heart is palpitating.

She feels her stomach rolling, her legs trembling and her heart pumping. “Please, please don’t go. I’ll be there shortly, but please don’t notice that I’m anxious about it.” She wants to walk down the hill and cross the sand at a leisurely pace and pretend that she doesn’t give a damn.

After what seemed forever she finds herself there, next to him, (casually and pretending how natural it all is, when in fact she has a war going on inside her whole body). Her brain is telling her how this is so silly; her stomach, the pounding blood in her ears and in her heart that would not stop. As she stands next to his sitting figure he looks up. “Hi” she says, in an overly-pretend casual voice.

“Hi”. He pats the space next to him as a signal for her to sit next to him, and she does. And for the first time, she allows herself to really take in his aura; his manly scent fills her nostrils.

“I can’t stay long. Can I see you tonight?”

“See me how?” her brain is making a strange connection with her mouth. What the hell did she just say! Woman, get a grip!

He looks at her with a crooked smile. He understands that she’s gripping for control here and she feels foolish, just like a teenager.

“You know, the way people see each other. Over food, a drink, that kind of stuff.” He continues to look at her but the smile has gone and she sees a look she has not noticed before. She’s not sure what it is, but his brows are furrowed and he has a “guess what?” look in his beautiful eyes.

“I have to go to the airport tonight to pick up a friend who is coming from Athens.”

“How are you getting there?”