There weren’t many graves in the cemetery, and the writing was hard to read on the ones that were there. However, one thing that stood out to me was the disturbing number of children’s graves. Off a little ways was the remains of an abandoned chapel. The doors hung crooked and the windows were boarded up.
At the end of the cemetery, right in front of the water, was a giant eight-foot angel with her hands spread in a welcoming, hug sort of gesture. Her wings looked a little chipped and her face was sad, looking almost as if she were crying with her head bowed. She was surrounded by wildflowers that were scattered along the cliffside, along with smatterings of tall grass.
I trailed my fingers along the fence, feeling the loose rocks under my fingers and watching the ivy try to pry it apart piece by piece. The Garden of Love, like Alex said in Vegas.
“I went to the Garden of Love, and saw what I never had seen: a Chapel was built in the midst, where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, and thou shalt not. writ over the door; so I turned to the Garden of Love, that so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, and tomb-stones where flowers should be: and Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, and binding with briars, my joys & desires,” I whispered to myself, reciting the poem from memory.
Alex had quoted it to me at the hotel in Vegas, not remembering or realizing the darker nature of the poem. It was more about growing up than anything, so maybe that suited us more than I liked to admit, but the actual nature of the poem was horrifyingly real right now as I watched him in the graveyard.
He wandered through the aisles slowly and came to stop in front of one stone in the back corner. I came up beside him and tried to decipher the writing. The first read Stelios Hatzistefanis, 1972-1984, and the one beside it read Kanavas Hatzistefanis, 1942-1993.
“Who are they?” I asked quietly. Not ‘were’, never ‘were’ because they were here being remembered, that meant that they existed in some capacity.
“My brother, Stelios, and my father, Kanavas.” The remorse in his voice made my stomach twist.
I looked up at him; his eyes were sad, his mouth set into a hard line. Reaching up, I touched his cheek tentatively. He leaned into my palm after a moment and laid his hand over mine. I didn’t push him to talk, instead we just stood there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind rustle the grass and the waves crash on the shore. Alex’s fingers laced through mine and he held my hand tightly in his while rubbing his thumb over mine.
“Kanavas died two months before Peter was born,” he said finally, his voice hollow. “He had kicked me out, Marie and I were living on the mainland, on the back of an old woman’s property. I didn’t have anything; I was working in construction, but I had to travel and I wasn’t paid very well…”
He trailed off and I glanced up at him; my heart ached listening to the pain in his voice, hearing him clearly miss and resent his dad all in one.
“He was so mad at me about her, he said I threw my life away for pussy.” He cringed at the words and I fought to hide my revulsion at his dad’s attitude. “Daphne tried get him to let me come home while I sorted things out with Marie, but he said he never wanted me to come back. He had a heart attack and died just before Christmas, and I moved back home. Mama and Daphne were glad to have me back, but things were…strained,” he continued. “I think Marie blamed them for us practically being homeless, she said my mother could have done more and that Daphne was just trying to ruin things for us. She told me Daphne was mean to her and Peter and Mama was dismissive of them.”
I wonder what Marie said to them. Was it wrong for me to assume that she had her hands in the pot, that she meddled with Alex’s sister and mother for her own gain? I wanted to believe that she was better than that, that my dislike of her was just unfounded jealousy and a sprinkle of misogyny at worst. So why couldn’t I convince myself that she wasn’t that type of person?
“Is that why you told Peter to live in the bungalow?”
A shadow crossed his face and his brow knitted together. “It was the right thing to do, he was struggling with the idea of becoming a father and I wanted him to have a stable place to go. I don’t want Lena on the property after what she did but if they need a temporary place while they look, then maybe you and I can talk about that some more.”
Was punching him the right thing to do as well? Not that I was judging him for that, but if we were operating on morality then I don’t think punching his son really stuck with that. But it made sense anyway, to want to offer Peter the choices that Alex didn’t, to always give him a place to live, because that would be his grandchild and he would want a place in their life.
But as for Lena, I had no idea what I wanted her to do. I knew through the grapevine that Iva was desperately waiting for her to come home but she’d laid out the rules and said Peter wasn’t welcome in her house. Now Lena was staying with Peter’s mom. The last time I had seen her was the clinic, and that had been devastating, what would it be like to watch her live on my property while pregnant? Making me bear witness to the whole thing? I didn’t wish anything like homelessness on them or for them to be forcibly separated during it, but at the same time I wasn’t sold on her living on the property. Especially if Peter was telling the truth and Marie wants to come stay with them in the bungalow, I couldn’t deal with that.
“What happened when you moved home?” I asked him, avoiding the Lena question.
“A few months later I came into possession of all Kanavas’s land; I sold some and used it to start getting equipment, then I opened up my own contracting company, built a few houses, and sold those. I was gone a lot, it left Marie home with the other women and things just got worse. Daphne asked for a plot of land from the will, so I built them a house and her and Mama left as soon as they could.” He paused and reached out for a rose off the bush growing outside the fence, he carefully laid it across the top of the headstone for his brother. “Mama and Daphne never called again, Marie chalked it up to them being jealous of my success, I tried calling them when she and I got married but they never returned the call, or the invitation.”
He called his dad by his given name, not dad or papa or anything else. Like Peter did. What happened between you? Peter said Alex wanted him to be someone else, Alex said his dad wanted him to be someone else, was it an endless cycle? Peter told me he fought endlessly with his dad, screaming matches that made Marie throw Alex out more than once. Was that why he thought his own mother wouldn’t want to see him?
No matter what happened in Peter and Alex’s past, no matter how badly Peter had hurt me, I wanted him to heal things with his dad. I wanted him to be able to bring Alex’s grandchild around and not have to isolate him further from his family. I won’t be like her, I vowed silently, I will do anything I can to undo the damage that Marie did, even if it doesn’t make me feel good to have Peter around.
“You don’t think they’ll return the call this time either, do you?” I asked as gently as possible.
Alex shook his head. “I don’t think they ever want to see me again, not after everything that happened between us.”
“No,” I scolded, turning him to face me. “You don’t know that. They miss you, they’re your family.” A brother and a son. How could they not miss him? “They lost your brother; they shouldn’t have to lose you too.”
Alex stared at me blankly; his eyes dark and vacant of any emotion. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed myself against him while refusing to look away. What happened to you? He used to be so closed off and almost cold at times, he’d changed in the time we were apart, or maybe he just grew up more, maybe something happened when he was gone. Or maybe he was always this way and I just never saw it.
“That was supposed to be me,” he said almost in a whisper. “It wasn’t supposed to be Stelios.”
No, never. “That’s not fair, don’t do that to yourself.”
“I was supposed to be the one going with my uncle to Albania, if I didn’t get sick then Stelios wouldn’t have gone instead and he would still—”
“Don’t,” I pleaded pulling his face down to mine. “Please, Alex, you can’t believe that’s true.”
He closed his eyes and ran his nose across my cheek. “I wish you could have met him; he would have liked you.”
I blushed in surprised and ran my fingers through his hair, gently soothing him. “Then bring me to meet your mom and sister,” I murmured as I held his head between my hands. “I know you want to see them after so long.”
“They might not want to see me,” he replied softly.
“Let’s go find out then,” I said without missing a beat. “Right now, before we go home.”
“Chloe, please don’t make me do this.”
“Alex, you need this, I can see that. Can’t you?”
He shook his head and pulled me closer, pressing his face into my hair. “What am I supposed to do when they tell me to go?”
They won’t. They couldn’t. Right? God, I prayed that Alex would be received well by his family.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, we both glanced out over the darkening sky and I squeezed his waist. He let me lead him away from the gravestones, pausing to lay a rose on his dad’s grave as well. Alex dragged his feet along the path but he didn’t try to change my mind.
The blue sedan waited in the distance and we were only about twenty feet from it when the rain started. Alex beeped the keyfob and we took off in a run before we got soaked. I threw myself into the passenger seat and waited until he was in beside me comfortably before turning him to me, kissing him hard.
“Everything will be okay,” I mumbled against his lips. “I promise.”
“Chloe, if they don’t want me…” he trailed off.
“They will.”
When he looked up at me again there was something in his dark eyes that made my heart pound. Excitement, or hope maybe. It was the same look in his eye that he had when we got married.
It took him a few minutes to work up the nerve to start the car. We continued back down the mountain the way we came until we were back on a real road. I laid my head back in the seat, my hand resting on Alex’s knee while I watched the beautiful scenery fly by. Open fields of beautiful grass and flowers on one side, thick wooded areas on the other, and the Aegean sea sprawling out as far as you could see.
We were already an hour outside Athens, and another forty-five minutes from the docks when we had gotten to the graveyard, but we drove for easily another hour up North. We had to be close to Lamia. I expected us to stop in one of the smaller towns, but eventually Alex turned off to a gravel road and away from the other houses. Rain had started to pound on the windshield by then and made seeing the path difficult.
“It’s just up ahead.” That was the first time he’d spoken since we left.
A small blue blob waited for us in the distance, progressively getting much larger and making my breath catch in my throat. The house was beautiful; smooth blue stone made up the majority of the perfectly shaped building, a small section was made of grey flagstone near the back and above it was a balcony with a wooden lattice and now drenched curtains. The white shutters were closed up, and on the covered front stoop a large white and orange dog laid on the steps.
“You built this?” I was in awe; this house was stunning.
He nodded and parked the car close to the front steps. “The main house on the island was pride and joy, but this one was always my best work. It looks like our old house, but it’s not crumbling or unsafe to live in.”
It was very traditional architecture, I was almost a little jealous as we sat there looking at the house. The rain lightened to a trickle and finally I took my seatbelt off, turning to Alex expectantly. His hands rubbed back and forth on his jeans, I reached out and stopped him from fidgeting.
“It’s alright,” I soothed. “It’ll be okay. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he answered, turning to look at me finally.
He leaned across the console and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, my eyes fluttered shut and I smiled to myself at the feeling of his scruff tickling my cheek. I pulled away and waited for him to undo his belt before reaching for the door and getting out. I stepped down into a shallow puddle and cringed as I jumped away from it, trying not to completely soak my ballet flats.
The rain had pretty much stopped but small puddles decorated the cobblestone path leading to the house. Alex came around the car slowly, gazing up at the house distractedly as he did so. I followed his eyeline to one of the windows on the second floor, the only one with open shutters, the purple curtain fluttered, and I frowned, blinking rapidly. Is someone watching us? I mean, it was someone else’s house so that was fair.
Before I could ask Alex if he saw it too, the dog stood up and started barking at the door, a second later it flew open and a tall woman stood in the threshold. I didn’t need to ask to know that was his sister; her hair was long, dark, and unruly, she was lanky and looked elegant as she stepped out into the light. She wore light-wash jeans with a flowy green peasant top, her hair was loose and tumbled down nearly to her waist with a soft dusting of silver on top, and her feet were bare.
She stared at Alex, looking like she was going to scream or maybe just cry, her mouth agape. Suddenly she charged down the steps and started yelling, pointing at him angrily and gesturing wildly back at the house. Alex spoke evenly and slowly, I stood beside him, unsure where to look or how to respond.
She stopped and Alex said something else and suddenly she was in his arms, hugging him tightly while he hugged her back. I took a step back, giving them space that they clearly needed. I was admiring them when something wet poked my foot; I jumped back in surprise. The dog was wagging his tail excitedly. I gave his chin a scratch and bent down to give him some proper love.
“Daphne, this is Chloe.”
Oh shit. I stood up quickly and held out my hand to her. She smiled softly and said something to me in Greek.
“I’m sorry, I only speak English,” I apologized. “Den miláo elliniká.”
She laughed and wiped her palms down the front of her pants. “That does seem to be the new thing around here, my kids still choose English over Greek.”
I grinned and glanced at Alex. “Yeah, he translates for me a lot, one of these days I’ll learn it though.”
Daphne gestured to me and looked to Alex. “So, she’s your…?”
“Wife,” he answered, taking my hand. “Chloe and I got married recently.”
“Married?” she repeated, her eyes going wide. “Where’s Marie, where’s Peter?”
Alex looked away and I squeezed his hand. “Can we continue this inside with Mama?” he asked gently.
Daphne looked at the house and back at him, her teeth on edge as she contemplated it. “Alright,” she agreed reluctantly. “Come on in, I’ll see if I can get her out of bed.”