world was just right, and every moment was a decadent celebration of life. I hadn’t had an appetite five minutes ago, but now I was ravenous. “Can I have another slice?”
“Certainly, koritsáki mou ,” he said, spreading more cheese on a fresh slice of olive bread. “I take it Christos made it home safely?”
“Yeah. Safe and sound.” For now, I thought. I knew his pre-trial wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but I felt a doomsday clock ticking down to Valentine’s Day on Friday, the day of his actual trial. Lameness. Could I petition to have Valentine’s Day pushed forward a day? Probably not. “Spiridon?”
“Yes, Samoula ?” Spiridon smiled.
“Do you, um, ah, I feel like maybe I shouldn’t be asking this, but do you, uh…do you know about Christos’ trial?” I was afraid maybe he didn’t know and I was going to break his heart, but I also felt like I was stuck in the dark on this whole trial topic, and I needed some emergency support.
His smile faded. It didn’t turn sour, like I could imagine my mom or dad doing, after which yelling and condescension would commence. Instead, Spiridon looked sad. “Yes, koritsáki mou , I know.”
Phew. One obstacle out of the way. “Are you worried?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “As many times as Christos has been in court, it never gets easier. There’s little I can do but pray for him and hope that the jury sees the good boy I know my grandson to be.”
“Yeah,” I sighed thoughtfully. “Are you going to go to the trial?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you go to the pre-trial today?”
“Because, based on my experience, it’s largely a matter for the lawyers. But I will be at the trial on Friday.”
“Oh.”
I sort of felt left out because Spiridon knew all the details. But it made sense. Christos lived with him, so I’m sure he’d told his grandfather about it awhile ago. But I felt hurt that Christos hadn’t told me. I wanted to be supportive in any way that I could, but that was impossible if he didn’t include me in the process. I sighed to myself and shook my head.
Spiridon patted my shoulder. “It’s okay, Samoula . Christos will be fine.”
I hoped so. But the tortured look in Spiridon’s eyes ignited the smoldering worry that had been twisting my guts in knots for the last twelve hours.
===
I drove to campus along the Pacific Coast Highway, slumped over the wheel of my VW. Class was the last thing I wanted to think about today. Worse, today was Sociology 2, starring my sleep-inducing Professor Tutan-yawn-yawn, and American History 2, where I always managed to draw cartoons in my sketchbook while conveniently avoiding putting notes in my laptop.
I contemplated bailing on class entirely. One of the perks of being a college student. But what was I going to do if I didn’t go to class? Fret? Wring my hands together?
The beach was visible as I drove out of Del Mar. Too bad it was foggy and gray and I could barely see the ocean. Not much of a beach day, otherwise I might very well have parked my car and strolled down with my towel so I could lay out and catch some rays. Tanning under the buttery San Diego sun always soothed me.
Stupid fog.
The light at Carmel Valley turned red and I came to a stop. This was the intersection where I’d first met Christos last fall. I’d driven through here a hundred times since that day. The view of the beach never got old. I was so lucky to live in San Diego. I swear, it was a crime that people had to live anyplace else in the country. I felt bad for my parents, who were still stuck in the arctic urban wasteland of Washington D.C. It was probably snowing there right now. All I had to contend with was a little fog. The thermometer on my dash said sixty degrees.
A little fog wasn’t so bad.
I reached for the Venti Americano I’d bought at the Starbucks in Del Mar. They didn’t have a drive thru, so I’d had to park and it had taken forever. But today, I didn’t care if I was
“Certainly, koritsáki mou ,” he said, spreading more cheese on a fresh slice of olive bread. “I take it Christos made it home safely?”
“Yeah. Safe and sound.” For now, I thought. I knew his pre-trial wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but I felt a doomsday clock ticking down to Valentine’s Day on Friday, the day of his actual trial. Lameness. Could I petition to have Valentine’s Day pushed forward a day? Probably not. “Spiridon?”
“Yes, Samoula ?” Spiridon smiled.
“Do you, um, ah, I feel like maybe I shouldn’t be asking this, but do you, uh…do you know about Christos’ trial?” I was afraid maybe he didn’t know and I was going to break his heart, but I also felt like I was stuck in the dark on this whole trial topic, and I needed some emergency support.
His smile faded. It didn’t turn sour, like I could imagine my mom or dad doing, after which yelling and condescension would commence. Instead, Spiridon looked sad. “Yes, koritsáki mou , I know.”
Phew. One obstacle out of the way. “Are you worried?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “As many times as Christos has been in court, it never gets easier. There’s little I can do but pray for him and hope that the jury sees the good boy I know my grandson to be.”
“Yeah,” I sighed thoughtfully. “Are you going to go to the trial?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you go to the pre-trial today?”
“Because, based on my experience, it’s largely a matter for the lawyers. But I will be at the trial on Friday.”
“Oh.”
I sort of felt left out because Spiridon knew all the details. But it made sense. Christos lived with him, so I’m sure he’d told his grandfather about it awhile ago. But I felt hurt that Christos hadn’t told me. I wanted to be supportive in any way that I could, but that was impossible if he didn’t include me in the process. I sighed to myself and shook my head.
Spiridon patted my shoulder. “It’s okay, Samoula . Christos will be fine.”
I hoped so. But the tortured look in Spiridon’s eyes ignited the smoldering worry that had been twisting my guts in knots for the last twelve hours.
===
I drove to campus along the Pacific Coast Highway, slumped over the wheel of my VW. Class was the last thing I wanted to think about today. Worse, today was Sociology 2, starring my sleep-inducing Professor Tutan-yawn-yawn, and American History 2, where I always managed to draw cartoons in my sketchbook while conveniently avoiding putting notes in my laptop.
I contemplated bailing on class entirely. One of the perks of being a college student. But what was I going to do if I didn’t go to class? Fret? Wring my hands together?
The beach was visible as I drove out of Del Mar. Too bad it was foggy and gray and I could barely see the ocean. Not much of a beach day, otherwise I might very well have parked my car and strolled down with my towel so I could lay out and catch some rays. Tanning under the buttery San Diego sun always soothed me.
Stupid fog.
The light at Carmel Valley turned red and I came to a stop. This was the intersection where I’d first met Christos last fall. I’d driven through here a hundred times since that day. The view of the beach never got old. I was so lucky to live in San Diego. I swear, it was a crime that people had to live anyplace else in the country. I felt bad for my parents, who were still stuck in the arctic urban wasteland of Washington D.C. It was probably snowing there right now. All I had to contend with was a little fog. The thermometer on my dash said sixty degrees.
A little fog wasn’t so bad.
I reached for the Venti Americano I’d bought at the Starbucks in Del Mar. They didn’t have a drive thru, so I’d had to park and it had taken forever. But today, I didn’t care if I was
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