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Authors: Nichi Hodgson
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Yorkshire at Christmas when we desperately needed some time alone together?’
I was being flippant but Christos failed to catch it.
‘
Arketa
, Nichi,’ he snapped. ‘You’re always trying to avoid my parents!’
‘Well, you’re the one who said we needed to get out of the house!’ I snapped back.
Christos’s face was thunderous. Then he sighed, and apologised. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right; I’m tired. Let me have a coffee and a cigarette and I’ll be on it. Jesus, this heat!’
On the way to the village we got lost. Four times. ‘Nichi
mou
, I’m sorry, but if these
malakas
would only update their fucking stupid maps.’
‘Christos, why are we in the car on such a hot day, look, why don’t we just call it quits and turn back?’
‘No! We’ve come this far! I refuse to be beaten by these idiots!’
When we finally made it to the village there was little to see. In the church a service was taking place, and as we didn’t want to join it, we couldn’t exactly go in. Everybody in the village seemed to be at the service. There wasn’t even a
periptero
open for us to buy a drink or snack.
‘Come on, I’ll show you the square where my parents had their wedding reception.’
Christos set off round the back of the church. I trundled off after him then ran up alongside him so that we could hold hands. But it was too hot to hold hands. When we got to the square there was nothing to see. It was just an empty square, bereft of decoration. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. ‘Imagine – there were two thousand people here at Mama and Papa’s wedding reception!’
‘Two thousand?’ I was incredulous. ‘Did they know everybody?’
‘Probably not,’ Christos replied. ‘But it’s a source of pride to them, especially to Mama. To have your wedding day marked by so many people like that.’
I felt a wave of envy, and then one of resignation. Realistically, we were never going to get married here in Greece. I wasn’t part of this culture. I couldn’t have had a load of strangers at my reception, pinning money on to my dress and showering me with blessings that I didn’t know the meaning of. Not when I couldn’t even get the family I would be marrying into to understand me.
For four nights we had eaten dinner with Christos’s parents. For four nights I had sat in appetite-snatching trepidation, waiting for the topic of the PhD to come up. But it didn’t. I feared, and also slightly longed for, an altercation so I could at least show them how hurt I was by what had happened. But instead, on the afternoon that I left for the airport, they simply kissed me goodbye as pleasantly and as warmly as they ever had. Clearly they felt nothing needed to be said.
Christos, meanwhile, had too much to say. Only he couldn’t say it. Before he let me pass through passport control, he clung to me like never before, constantly rearranging my hair, stroking my cheek, fondling the back of my neck like a mother cat about to give up her kitten to new owners.
‘
Kali mou
, we had a good holiday, didn’t we?’
‘We did. I love these holidays. Let’s never stop coming to Greece.’
‘Ha! Well, I don’t think there’s much chance of that!’
‘I hate leaving. It never gets easier. Always harder. Christos, maybe we should move to Athens?’
‘
Arketa
, Nichi
mou
, what rubbish are you talking? I certainly don’t want to live in Greece. Why do you think I came to study in Britain? I don’t know how you’d manage. I wouldn’t!’
‘I’d write! You can write from anywhere. Don’t you think we could do it?’
‘I’d never ask you to do it.’
‘But I would do it. I’d do it for you.’
‘Nichi
mou
. . .’ Tears brimmed in Christos’s eyes. Why, I wondered. Because he was touched by my show of dedication? Or because he was feeling guilty about his own lack of sacrifice?
‘We’re still going to be together at least half the week,
kali
mou
, you know that, don’t you.’
‘I
I was being flippant but Christos failed to catch it.
‘
Arketa
, Nichi,’ he snapped. ‘You’re always trying to avoid my parents!’
‘Well, you’re the one who said we needed to get out of the house!’ I snapped back.
Christos’s face was thunderous. Then he sighed, and apologised. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right; I’m tired. Let me have a coffee and a cigarette and I’ll be on it. Jesus, this heat!’
On the way to the village we got lost. Four times. ‘Nichi
mou
, I’m sorry, but if these
malakas
would only update their fucking stupid maps.’
‘Christos, why are we in the car on such a hot day, look, why don’t we just call it quits and turn back?’
‘No! We’ve come this far! I refuse to be beaten by these idiots!’
When we finally made it to the village there was little to see. In the church a service was taking place, and as we didn’t want to join it, we couldn’t exactly go in. Everybody in the village seemed to be at the service. There wasn’t even a
periptero
open for us to buy a drink or snack.
‘Come on, I’ll show you the square where my parents had their wedding reception.’
Christos set off round the back of the church. I trundled off after him then ran up alongside him so that we could hold hands. But it was too hot to hold hands. When we got to the square there was nothing to see. It was just an empty square, bereft of decoration. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. ‘Imagine – there were two thousand people here at Mama and Papa’s wedding reception!’
‘Two thousand?’ I was incredulous. ‘Did they know everybody?’
‘Probably not,’ Christos replied. ‘But it’s a source of pride to them, especially to Mama. To have your wedding day marked by so many people like that.’
I felt a wave of envy, and then one of resignation. Realistically, we were never going to get married here in Greece. I wasn’t part of this culture. I couldn’t have had a load of strangers at my reception, pinning money on to my dress and showering me with blessings that I didn’t know the meaning of. Not when I couldn’t even get the family I would be marrying into to understand me.
For four nights we had eaten dinner with Christos’s parents. For four nights I had sat in appetite-snatching trepidation, waiting for the topic of the PhD to come up. But it didn’t. I feared, and also slightly longed for, an altercation so I could at least show them how hurt I was by what had happened. But instead, on the afternoon that I left for the airport, they simply kissed me goodbye as pleasantly and as warmly as they ever had. Clearly they felt nothing needed to be said.
Christos, meanwhile, had too much to say. Only he couldn’t say it. Before he let me pass through passport control, he clung to me like never before, constantly rearranging my hair, stroking my cheek, fondling the back of my neck like a mother cat about to give up her kitten to new owners.
‘
Kali mou
, we had a good holiday, didn’t we?’
‘We did. I love these holidays. Let’s never stop coming to Greece.’
‘Ha! Well, I don’t think there’s much chance of that!’
‘I hate leaving. It never gets easier. Always harder. Christos, maybe we should move to Athens?’
‘
Arketa
, Nichi
mou
, what rubbish are you talking? I certainly don’t want to live in Greece. Why do you think I came to study in Britain? I don’t know how you’d manage. I wouldn’t!’
‘I’d write! You can write from anywhere. Don’t you think we could do it?’
‘I’d never ask you to do it.’
‘But I would do it. I’d do it for you.’
‘Nichi
mou
. . .’ Tears brimmed in Christos’s eyes. Why, I wondered. Because he was touched by my show of dedication? Or because he was feeling guilty about his own lack of sacrifice?
‘We’re still going to be together at least half the week,
kali
mou
, you know that, don’t you.’
‘I
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