Chapter 7
Saturday evening had come around way too soon. Demetri stayed over at mine, his suitcase in the corner of the lounge, a constant reminder of what was to come. He had insisted on cooking dinner for me. It was his way of relaxing after his last day at the hospital.
When he told me he was cooking spanakopita, his favourite Greek meal, I wondered if it was his last attempt to change my mind. He knew that I loved my food and maybe saw a way into my heart through my belly. What he didn’t realise was that a part of him would always have my heart. Forever.
Methodically he chopped the onions, garlic cloves, fresh dill and parsley carefully and precisely into tiny pieces, using the sharp knife deftly, scraping them into a pan to soften. Watching how meticulous he was, a thought occurred to me.
‘Did you never want to be a surgeon, Demetri?’
‘No, I’ve been quite happy in accident and emergency. Dealing with patients quickly, diagnosing and moving them on to my gifted colleagues is my strength.’
He turned to stir the pan and I somehow felt like that conversation was over.
He swung back round and carefully placed the cooked ingredients into a bowl along with some spinach and feta cheese, and beat the eggs to bind the mixture.
He then added a few measured spoonfuls of various herbs and spices.
After tasting the mixture, he nodded to himself, then evenly spread it over some sheets of filo pastry before folding them into perfectly uniform parcels and placing the tray in the oven, setting the timer.
‘So, what shall we do for an hour then, while these cook? Any suggestions?’ he asked, a glint in his eye.
While I knew that it wasn’t the brightest idea, and would probably prolong the agony of him leaving, when he came round to my side of the breakfast bar and started kissing my neck, my body betrayed me.
He lifted me effortlessly and carried me to the bedroom, his lips locked on mine.
Our lovemaking was tender and gentle yet filled with passion and need at the same time, as if our bodies knew that this was our last goodbye.
I held back my tears until he left my bed and went to check on dinner, when I gave in and sobbed as quietly as I could.
Then, I pulled myself together, splashed some cold water onto my face and joined him.
After we’d eaten, he turned and placed the dishes in the dishwasher. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, committing everything to memory, drinking him in; never wanting to forget one single detail about him. As he walked towards me, his eyes were full of questions.
‘So…’ He came and leant up against the kitchen wall nearest to me and took my hand in his. ‘I suppose it’s asking too much if you’ve changed your mind since we spoke this morning?’
My eyes left his, and I looked down at the floor. A loud sigh escaped him. He already knew my answer without me having to speak the words.
I looked back up at him.
‘I’m sorry but I can’t come.’
‘Won’t come,’ he whispered.
‘OK. Won’t come,’ I murmured. ‘I’m sorry, Demetri, but everything I want and have worked hard for is here. And right now, you can’t be here. You’re needed in Greece.’
‘And you’re totally sure that you don’t want to do long distance?’ he pleaded again.
‘Those sort of relationships always sound so much better than they actually turn out to be. At first it will be a novelty, but your mother will need you and me being around will just distract you. If these are her last weeks, months or even years, then you need to be giving her your undivided attention, not having to worry about me and whether I’m OK in a strange country.
In reality, when we’re both tired, the travel will become a chore and we’ll end up arguing.
The travelling will drop off because of other commitments and I don’t want us to end that way.
I’d rather us go out the way we are. Just knowing that we were everything to each other, but that the timing was all wrong. You do understand, don’t you?’
‘I do, and I don’t. I love you, Michelle. I’m so sorry that things are ending this way.’
‘And I love you too, Demetri. But sometimes, love isn’t enough to conquer the things we need to do in life.
Time is something that you can never get back.
I know that from my own parents. I spent years beating myself up because I didn’t spend enough time with them, and I still do.
I still haven’t forgiven myself really for that.
But it’s not until afterwards that it comes to light.
I never knew that time was so precious and right now you need to spend time with your mother.
You’ll never look back and wished you’d been there. Because you will be.’
He gave a bittersweet smile, reached out and pressed his lips against the back of my hand where they lingered for what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds. When he let go, he sighed loudly in defeat.
Part of me wanted to urge him to leave there and then.
To tear off the plaster and get it over and done with.
But a bigger part of me wanted to cling on to him for dear life.
We sat side by side on the sofa, the TV on, but neither of us took anything in; neither of us wanted to go to bed for the last time as two.
If the evening hadn’t had been our final one together, it would have been perfect. I tried so hard to stay strong but as we lay in each other’s arms that night for the very last time, sadness overwhelmed me and I cried myself silently to sleep.