Chapter 11
11
THE BAROS’S APARTMENT, KASSIOPI
‘Magdalena! Where are you going dressed like that? Where are the rest of your clothes?’
All the walls of this apartment were thin. Christos could hear everything from his childhood bedroom, even with the door closed tight and the air-conditioning unit blowing. This small space was the only sanctuary he had ever had yet still there had never been quiet. The conversation or arguments would seep from the open-plan kitchen/dining/living room or the other bedrooms. Magdalena’s room had always provided old-school Tupac shaking the floor. This conversation was pretty similar to how others had always been too. Magdalena dressing up to go out, their mother saying the clothing was inappropriate for her age. Magdalena was only three years younger than him. A grown woman! Her fashion choices should be her fashion choices.
‘Mama! Stop!’
‘It will be you who will be asked to stop by the local police thinking you are a woman of the night if you go out wearing that.’
Christos observed his own reflection in the mirror on the wall, which had one corner covered by a faded and half worn away sticker of a motorbike. A reminder of one of the only things he had done with his dad – riding the tracks of the mountainous island on two wheels. Now he was staring at that sticker more than he was looking at his own reflection and being impacted by the memories. He tugged a little at the collar of the light blue linen shirt. What did it matter how he looked? His life was no longer here, and whatever had been going on in his head when he had suggested this visit to a restaurant was… stupid. He didn’t need a distraction. He definitely didn’t need more than a distraction. His life was building up to something no one could take away.
He put his hand on the door handle and left the room.
‘I think you look very nice,’ he greeted Magdalena, without really taking in what she was wearing.
‘Christo! The length of it?! There are pieces of her you should only see if you are married with someone!’ Angeliki exclaimed, a tablecloth in her hand.
‘Mama!’ Magdalena shouted. ‘You cannot see anything like that!’
Christos watched his sister put her hands to the hem of the short dress and tease it a little further downwards. There was no need, but this was how their mother always got her way, by eating into your mind. The same way she had got him to come here sooner than necessary. The same way she was making light suggestions as to what he should do with his inheritance.
‘Perhaps if Magdalena shows a little marriage material there will actually be a wedding like you want,’ Christos suggested.
‘Christo!’ Magdalena shouted, striking out and hitting him on the arm. ‘And you cannot see anything… can you?’
He hadn’t meant to make his sister feel insecure. The dress looked very nice on a second appraisal. He could not see what the fuss was about.
‘No, Magdalena,’ he reassured. ‘You look beautiful. And you should not accept clothing tips from someone who has put some of Vaggelis’s blue shirts and one of his scarves in her wardrobe.’
‘What?!’ his mother erupted. ‘You have been looking in my wardrobe?!’
‘It is a wardrobe everyone uses because there are not enough wardrobes in this apartment. Still,’ Christos ended.
‘He is right,’ Magdalena agreed, nodding.
‘And you are wearing a blue shirt right now,’ Angeliki countered, throwing the tablecloth over the table. ‘You are going out? Where do you go?’
‘One of my own shirts,’ Christos answered, like this was the most important thing.
‘I go now,’ Magdalena said, heading towards the door.
‘Wait!’ Angeliki yelled. ‘I have made gemista ! You mean to tell me that no one is staying here to eat it?’
Gemista . One of his personal favourites, and his mother’s was the best. Peppers and tomatoes stuffed with rice and vegetables. His father had always heaped more salt on his. Philistine.
‘I am meeting Marilyn. I will be hungry when I come in. Leave it in a box in the fridge.’ Magdalena put her hand on the front door.
‘Christo?’ his mother queried.
‘I am meeting Molly at Tavernaki,’ he answered. Why hide it? He was just taking control of this inheritance problem. And it could be more of a problem than his mum and his sister knew. He had his own thoughts as to why Vaggelis had left Molly half of his estate and he had been observing Janette’s reactions to everything connected to his godfather – the questions, the sympathy, the tears…
‘You are meeting Molly at Tavernaki?’ Angeliki and Magdalena said together.
‘That is what I said.’
‘But I thought Katerina said there would be a meeting tomorrow,’ Angeliki stated.
‘That is correct.’ He began collecting his things from where he had left them. Wallet. Door key. Business cards. He put them inside his Louis Vuitton bag. He was saying nothing to his mother and sister right now. He could see they had enough to worry about; they were still grieving the loss of their dearest friend. It was therefore up to him to investigate a little.
‘So this is a date?’ Magdalena said, still in the apartment.
‘No,’ he stated.
‘But you are talking about Vaggelis’s gifts tomorrow,’ Magdalena said. ‘So…’
‘So you obviously know nothing about the art of business, Magdalena,’ he told her. ‘There are certain steps that if you take them slowly, with ease but intent, then matters can proceed much more fluidly.’
‘I have no idea what you are saying but it does not sound anything as nice as a date.’
‘She seems like a nice girl. Her mother, Janetto, I like. She always talks very much, but no one is perfect.’
Christos couldn’t help but break a smile. There was no one he knew who talked more than his mother. And did Janette talk a lot to cover up the truth she was hiding?
‘Then it should be easy to settle the matter of the inheritance. Nice people do nice things, right?’ he asked.
‘I am leaving now,’ Magdalena said, finally opening the door.
‘Wait!’ Christos said. ‘I will walk with you.’
‘And everyone leaves me and the gemista !’ Angeliki shouted after them.
The humidity hit him the second they stepped outside and he shut the door behind them. He hastened to walk down the steps but Magdalena was stalling by the burgeoning urns of flowers – pink, white, red. He was beginning to perspire already.
‘Just checking I have my keys,’ she said, finally catching up to join him. ‘If I do not have them I will have to wake Mama up when I get home, and I am planning on a late night. Like you are, I am sure.’
Had his sister just winked at him? He almost forgot about the broken step at the bottom of this flight and had to make a leap.
‘OK,’ Magdalena said as he landed awkwardly and had to swerve to avoid a parked moped. ‘Now I know you’re nervous. So this must be a date!’
He fanned out the front of his shirt, trying to draw the heat away from his body, cooling the outside while he worked on cooling the inside. ‘Do you have a date, Magdalena?’
‘Why are you avoiding the question?’
‘We should keep moving. Standing around in this heat is not good for?—’
‘You being able to avoid the questions,’ Magdalena said with a raised eyebrow.
‘I am not avoiding anything apart from the humidity.’
‘And Mama’s gemista ,’ Magdalena said as they walked together along the path that led downwards to the harbour.
‘I am not purposefully avoiding that.’
‘She hasn’t actually made it once since you last visited,’ Magdalena remarked, waving to one of their neighbours who was hanging out washing.
He swallowed. That couldn’t be true. But, also, that was not on him.
‘It has not been that long since I have visited,’ he answered.
‘It was Christmas.’
‘As I said. Not that long.’
Magdalena snorted exactly how their mother did when she was annoyed. The similarity was endearing to him as much as it was frustrating. His sister worked in one of the local supermarkets. Why didn’t she want more than that? She had once talked about pursuing her art, going to college on the mainland…
‘Do you still draw?’ he asked as the corner of The Harbour Bar came into sight.
‘If you visited more often you would not have to ask that question,’ Magdalena responded.
‘Magdalena.’
‘What?’
‘This place, it is difficult for me to be here,’ he said, slowing his pace a little.
‘Your home, Christo. This place is your home.’
Magdalena had said the words like an accusation.
‘I liked it when you drew,’ he said, softer, trying to change the trajectory of their conversation.
‘I liked it when you were at home more.’
He looked at his sister. The face of make-up made her look more mature than her years, sophisticated, not-to-be-messed-with. But the expression in her eyes was the same one she had worn when their father had raised his voice to her or raised his fists to Christos. He felt his own hands tighten now in response to that memory.
‘You should come to Athens more,’ he said, as lightly as he could manage.
‘I should come to Athens more,’ she answered, smiling. ‘I should also look for a job that doesn’t have me getting covered in meat juices.’
‘I would not disagree,’ he agreed.
‘OK,’ Magdalena said, bringing their walk to a halt as they reached The Harbour Bar. ‘I am going this way and you are going that way for your date at Tavernaki.’
‘It’s not a date, Magdalena,’ he said as she turned away from him.
‘Tell that to your own meat juices!’ she called way too loudly.
For some reason he surreptitiously looked down at the crotch of his linen trousers. He quickly looked back up, hearing his sister laugh as she strutted away.
He took a breath and looked down the road towards the taverna. It was time to handle this inheritance business and make sure he got his own way.