Chapter 9 Lee
Lee
As Lee’s plane descended into Athens International Airport, she watched shadows of sprawling islands taking shape below, framed by glimmering cobalt water.
Each Greek island was distinct: one mountainous, another densely populated on one side.
Lee’s gaze swept across olive groves and whitewashed buildings, temples, small harbors, and sandy beaches.
The aircraft approached the mainland. Lee tried—and failed—to remember her high school lessons about Greek gods and goddesses.
Athens was a sprawling cityscape of low-rise buildings with flat roofs.
Lee saw the honey-colored marble walls and columns of the Acropolis.
Roads originating at the ancient city center formed a web of threads that led toward modern neighborhoods.
Jagged mountain peaks surrounded the capital, a mixture of rocky and forested terrain.
How had it been ten years since Lee and her family had boarded the Splendido Marveloso cruise ship in Greece?
Lee rummaged in her purse for the peanut butter crackers Charlotte had pressed into her hand at the Savannah airport the day before.
Lee had refused the moist packet, but Charlotte said, “Trust me, Lee Lee—you’ll want peanut butter crackers eventually. ”
As always—and infuriatingly—Charlotte was right.
“Get a ginger ale to go with,” Charlotte had advised. “Or an airplane cup of chardonnay!”
Lee ripped the plastic package open with her teeth and stared out of the window, jamming a gritty, greasy cracker in her mouth.
The plane jostled, and Lee grabbed the armrest. Her mind raced back to the last time she had spoken to Regan.
Lee had been embarrassed about her breakdown; she’d avoided answering calls from her siblings.
When the sisters finally spoke, Lee had kept the conversation brief.
Regan had mentioned a new boyfriend, a “math guy” named Francois.
“Is he French? Where did you meet?” said Lee.
“Oh, well…” said Regan, with a weak little giggle.
After a moment, during which Lee had been scrolling on her phone, Lee snapped to attention. “Oh, well, what?” she said.
“Well, we met online, if you must know,” said Regan, so defensively that Lee felt a flare of concern.
“Like…on a dating app?” asked Lee suspiciously.
“Oh my God, no,” twittered Regan. “On Facebook! Anyway, I’ve got to run. You’ll meet him! He’s real, I promise. And yes, he’s French!”
Lee’s plane touched down, decelerating on the runway.
Her seatbelt pinched her waist, and there was a dull thudding behind her eyeballs.
She chewed her last peanut butter cracker.
When there was a ding, passengers all around Lee jumped to their feet to grab their overstuffed suitcases. Lee peered out at a rainy, gray day.
Of course, it was entirely possible that Regan was safe and might return home any minute. She might be in her Athens apartment already! But Lee felt uneasy. She would know if Regan were dead, wouldn’t she?
And who found romance on Facebook? It definitely seemed sketchy. But if Francois was not a fabulous new boyfriend, who was he—and what had he done?