Chapter 24 Aristides
When I entered the kitchen the next morning, the chef was prepping ingredients at the far counter while Dede stood at the stove making eggs.
After nearly being discovered by the kids last night, I’d chosen to sleep in the guest bedroom, which was growing more cramped with each passing day as we filled it with purchases for the twins.
I’d needed the distance to think without her warmth beside me clouding my judgment.
Part of me wished we had been caught. Maybe then Dede would have been forced to finally acknowledge what we were to each other. Instead, she’d gotten lucky, and I’d spent the night alone.
Tia glanced up from her plate of fruit and yogurt and smiled, appearing entirely unperturbed by my presence. “Morning, Mr. Christakis.” She observed my rolled-up sleeves. “Wow, you have tattoos.”
Few people knew about the ink that covered my arms, chest, back, and leg. Chrysanthos did, obviously.
My son had seen me in every state of undress over the years, courtesy of his refusal to acknowledge closed doors meant privacy. It was no wonder he’d followed suit and gotten himself covered in them.
“Good morning, Tia,” I replied warmly.
Dede approached Tia with a plate. “I made you eggs, sweetheart. You need more protein than just yogurt.”
“I’m good with this, thanks.”
“But I prepared them the way you—”
“How many do you have?” Tia asked me, cutting off whatever Dede was about to say. She gestured at my forearms.
I felt a flash of sympathy for Dede. The hurt behind her too-bright smile was evident.
“More than Chrysanthos, yes,” I said. “Though he is working on catching up.”
Dede was afraid of damaging her relationship with Tia by revealing us but couldn’t see the damage already being done. The pregnancy had created a chasm between them, and my presence or absence wouldn’t change that.
Still, Tia’s behavior bordered on disrespectful, whatever her feelings about her mother’s choices. There were better ways to express displeasure than these petulant dismissals. Though I suspected Dede’s hovering over the years had earned some of it.
I took a seat at the island, and the chef poured me a coffee.
“Thanks for being there with Mom until Chrys and I could get here. I appreciate you coming after Yiayia called.”
I raised an eyebrow at Dede. So that was the fabrication she’d offered her daughter? That I’d arrived in Montrose yesterday, solely at my mother’s request?
Dede must have felt the weight of my sardonic glance because she refused to meet my eyes. She busied herself arranging napkins that didn’t need arranging.
“Father?” Chrysanthos said with surprise as he entered. “What are you doing here?”
It had been months since I saw him at his wedding. He had filled out, and his skin, sun-bronzed. His hair was shorter than I’d seen it in years, making it appear more brunette than blond, and his facial hair had grown fuller.
Dede interjected before I could respond. “Your dad was in Florida when your grandmother called him with news about my hospitalization. He flew in to check in on me. I invited him to stay here instead of a hotel.”
I could tell him the truth right now. End this charade. But I wouldn’t do that to Dede, regardless of how angry I was.
Instead, I took a slow sip of coffee, considering how easily the lie slipped from her lips. How smoothly she made me out to be a concerned family member rather than the man who’d been inside her just hours ago.
“Marriage clearly agrees with you,” I said to Chrysanthos. “You look well, yes?”
He moved further into the kitchen, still watching me. “Where have you been?” He poured himself coffee. “You haven’t been home in months, Theia Irida told me.”
“I have been working remotely from the US, yes. I wanted change of scenery.”
His eyebrows rose. “A change of scenery. For four months.” A pause, then a smirk. “Do you have a woman here? A girlfriend?”
I felt Dede’s stillness across the kitchen, the way her hands froze over whatever she was arranging.
“Something of that nature, yes,” I said.
“Good.” Chrysanthos’s smirk widened. “I was concerned you’d adopted monastic habits.”
I allowed a smile to cross my face. “I assure you, I find ample ways to occupy my time.” I took another sip of coffee. “The monasteries, they would find me woefully unsuited to their disciplines.”
I could sense Dede’s discomfort without looking at her, and there was a certain satisfaction in that. Let her squirm a little under the weight of her deception.
“Perhaps someday I will introduce you to the reason I have found America... compelling, yes,” I added with subtle emphasis, knowing the double meaning would sail past my son but land precisely where I intended with Dede.
Tia stood abruptly, glancing at her watch. “Chrys, we should go now if I want to get that driving practice in. The roads will get busy soon for the lunchtime rush.”
Chrysanthos nodded, but before he moved, he turned to Dede. “How are you feeling today, Mom? You need anything while we’re out?”
I controlled my expression, but I was processing this new information. My son called Dede “Mom.” Their relationship had clearly evolved beyond my knowledge.
“I’m good, baby. Just a little tired,” Dede replied, her tone softening in a way I recognized. “Maybe visit Mama Nettie. She misses Tia.”
“Definitely will,” Tia agreed.
Chrysanthos leaned over and kissed Dede’s cheek before turning to Tia. “Let’s go. I’ll even let you take the highway if you promise not to terrify me.”
Tia rolled her eyes. “One time I went too slow merging, and he acts like I tried to kill him,” she said to no one in particular.
“Drive safely, yes?” I said, raising my coffee cup in a small salute.
When the door closed behind them, silence descended on the kitchen. The chef had discreetly withdrawn to the pantry, leaving Dede and me alone.
“Aris,” she finally said. She looked at me, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Can I have a hug? Please? I just... I need...”
My resolve crumbled at the sight of her vulnerability. Despite my frustration, I could deny her nothing. I set my cup down and stood.
“Come here to me.”
She crossed to me without hesitation, fitting herself against my chest. I enfolded her in my arms, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other pressed firmly against her spine. Her body shuddered with silent sobs.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my shirt. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”
I said nothing, merely tightening my embrace. When her breathing steadied, I pulled back to look at her. “Have you checked your glucose this morning?”
She nodded. “It was fine.”
“Excellent.” I brushed a tear from her cheek. “You need to stay healthy for our babies, yes?” I drew her back against my chest. “This situation, it is untenable, but we will find solution, yes.”
She burrowed deeper into my embrace, not yet ready to relinquish the safety she found there. And truth be told, I wasn’t ready to let her go either.
But as the days passed, my frustration mounted.
We no longer shared a bed. Tia had nearly caught us one morning, walking into her mother’s bedroom without knocking, and I had to remain hidden beneath the covers while Dede made some excuse about being tired.
The humiliation of hiding like a guilty secret had left me seething for hours afterward.
Last Tuesday, we seized a rare moment alone in her office. Dede was bent over her desk, my hands pushing up her dress, when the front door slammed open.
We separated instantly, my body aching with unfulfilled need as Chrysanthos and Tia’s voices filled the hallway. I’d barely managed to zip my pants and settle behind her desk before they appeared in the doorway.
Sunday was particularly maddening. I accompanied Dede to Mount Olive for service, and the pastor’s eyes lingered on Dede too long.
When he spoke of “the sanctity of marriage when children are involved” while looking directly at her, I nearly stood up. Every word from that pulpit was his audition to become Dede’s husband and raise my children.
I sat rigidly with Tia and Chrysanthos forming a barrier between Dede and me. I couldn’t reach for her hand or lean close and whisper in her ear.
Every meal was a performance. Every conversation monitored. Every instinct to touch her, to claim her, to simply be with her had to be ruthlessly suppressed.
I watched Chrysanthos kiss her cheek each morning. Watched him call her “Mom” with easy affection and witnessed Tia gradually soften toward her while I remained the outsider.
So when Tia made her announcement at dinner one evening, I had to force myself not to show my relief.
“Yiayia’s throwing a baby shower for Kayla at Thalassía,” Tia informed us. “We’ll be flying over to attend.”
After two weeks of Chrysanthos and Tia’s constant presence, the prospect of their departure felt like the first breath after being underwater.
“When do you leave?” It was the first time I’d spoken since we sat down for supper, and I noticed Dede’s subtle glance in my direction.
“In a few days.” Tia twirled pasta around her fork. “Mom, do you, uh, want a baby shower?” She offered a half-smile.
“Yes,” I answered at the same time Dede said no. Our contradicting responses created a moment of tension that settled over the table.
Dede cleared her throat. “Thank you for the offer baby, but I’m good. Baby showers are for first-time moms.”
“I disagree,” I added. I set down my wine glass. “Baby showers are held to celebrate the baby, regardless of their birth order. All babies should be celebrated.” My tone left little room for argument, and I caught Dede’s narrowed eyes.
“I agree with Father. When we have children, we’ll have baby showers for each, aggelé mou,” Chrysanthos chimed in, reaching for Tia’s hand across the table.
The conversation moved on, but the tension between Dede and me remained.
Later that night, I lay on my back naked without covers. I’d kicked them off in frustration, tired of being entangled in them rather than with Dede.
The bedroom door creaked open, and I knew without looking it was Dede. When she slid into bed beside me, I couldn’t resist pulling her close.
“You are growing bold, yes. Are Relationship Police off duty tonight?” I asked while my hand moved over her stomach. “Did you take your evening reading?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “It was ninety-eight. Well within range.”
“Very good.”
“I know you’re angry with me. I know this has been awful for you.” She pressed closer. “I’ve missed you. Even though you’re right down the hall, I’ve missed you so much.”
I stroked her cheek. “Missing each other does not solve anything, agápi mou. We cannot keep living like this.”
“I don’t know how to fix this,” she admitted. “Every option terrifies me. Telling them terrifies me. Losing Tia terrifies me.” She pressed her forehead against my shoulder. “I’m paralyzed, and I know that’s not fair to you.”
“Being paralyzed is choice too, yes,” I said quietly. “And right now, it is the choice you are making.”
She was silent for a long moment, her breathing the only sound between us. Then she lifted her head to look at me in the darkness.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “I’ll talk to Tia. Before they leave for Greece. I’ll tell her about us.”
I held her face in both hands. “You are certain, yes?”
“Nervous,” she admitted. “But sure.”
I kissed her then, pouring weeks of frustration and longing into it. She answered with her own pent-up need, cupping the back of my head.
When we finally broke apart, she settled against my chest.
“You will stay with me tonight, yes?” I whispered.
“I wasn’t planning on being anywhere else,” she promised.