Good Greek Girls Don't (13 page)

Chris is sitting beside me with his arms around me and it feels so good. I better savour the moments because, knowing me, I'll do something to screw it all up.

‘I thought you promised to keep your hands to yourself all night?' I'm only teasing, I think he knows that. Yeah, the grin on his face tells me he does.

‘Well, if that's what you really want. My wish is your command.' I can deal with that.

‘So anything I want, you will deliver?' This could be fun.

‘What do you want, Des?'

‘An ice-cream. I'm sure there's a Mr Whippy, ice-cream truck somewhere along the beach.' It wouldn't be a Melbourne beach if there wasn't. Although I have to have a serious talk with myself. Chris just gave me an opening that I could have played with. I could have asked for anything, set a challenge, but I went for the easiest and simplest thing that he would have no problem delivering. Oh well, it's often the simplest things in life that bring the most pleasure.

‘A Mr Whippy, eh?' He sounds almost as surprised as me at the suggestion; perhaps he had the impression that I'm a high maintenance kind of chick. ‘I can handle that.' So can I.

I begged my grandmother to let me book her tickets online, not through the dodgy Greek travel agent who is the nephew of some four times removed relative from the village. Everyone knows that most Greeks operate on the worldwide phenomenon of Greek time, which usually means four hours behind the rest of the world and by the looks of it pilots are no exception. I better find a way to kill some time. It's going to be a long day. Why didn't I have the foresight to bring a book or my mp3 player?

Waiting alone at the airport is quite a depressing experience. Of course, Effie couldn't look after her kids long enough to allow Mum to join me in picking up her mother, and Dad couldn't tear himself away from the tomatoes, cucumbers and whatever fruit or vegetable is in season. Their loss anyway. It just means I get a little bit of extra time with my grandmother before my family and the extended clan start trying to get their hooks into her. But this waiting is depressing. All around me I'm seeing happy reunions, children returning home from holidays, honeymooners coming home, first meetings with relatives from overseas. Even businessmen and women smile when they see a chauffer holding a placard with their name on it. God, I need caffeine and a cigarette before all these happy reunions have me crying for some unknown reason.

Come on, come on. This is ridiculous. It's been an hour and forty-five minutes since my grandmother's flight was supposed to land and still nothing. The lights on the arrivals board swirl with activity. Ah, success, she has finally landed. I give my grandmother thirty minutes, forty-five tops, to be through duty-free and customs and be smothering me in kisses. She'd put the evil eye on anyone who tried to stand in her way and I would expect no less from her. I wonder if she'll relent and buy me a carton of smokes through duty-free? I doubt it, but it was worth a shot asking her when she called before departing from Athens. God, I hope she doesn't try to smuggle in some olives or oils or extra sesame bars without declaring them. Yum, pasteli. I know all Greeks try to get in a bit more than the allowed amount and it's not like they're bringing in drugs or banned substances or anything, but what if? I can just imagine Yiayia getting busted at the age of seventy-six because she tried to bring in a few extra bars of my favourite sesame seed treat.

‘Despina mou!'

She's here! My Yiayia is kissing and hugging me. She's not going to jail over imported sesame bars. She's coming home with me. Phew.

‘Yiayia! I missed you so much.' I don't know if the tears are because I am so relieved that she is finally here beside me or if I am just so glad to have a part of myself back home. If she wants to go back to Greece again she is not allowed to go for three months. And she is not allowed to go for more than two weeks – tops. ‘What took you so long?'

‘Despina, agapi mou, so bloody slow customs. You look beautiful.'

Some customs clerk probably decided it was time for his afternoon nap just as Yiayia's much-delayed flight was landing. All's well that ends well. I have my Yiayia and we're walking to the car while trying to manoeuvre a luggage trolley that is possessed by the devil and keeps collecting fellow travellers, ankles. I have at least another thirty minutes with my grandmother before I have to share her with anyone.

‘Despina, you look different.'

How do I look different? I know I haven't seen my her in three months but I haven't put on weight or made any drastic changes to my appearance during that time. We've just gotten out of the bloody car park after battling the evil forces of automated ticket machines and now my Yiayia is going to make me look in the mirror to see if I have changed. Am I fatter?

‘I'm the same, Yiayia. You've just been away for too long.'

‘No, no. No, my love. You look special. Happy. What his name?'

How does she do that? Back in the country for a minute and she's already asking me what his name is? She's got a gift.

‘His name is Chris, Yiayia, but I hardly know him. We've only been out twice.' Well, once really, the second date was kind of in, aside from a walk on the beach. And I'm going to duck out later tonight to have a coffee with him, after I have well and truly enjoyed my Yiayia and she has retired for the night. I just need to see him, just for a little bit. God, I sound like a junkie.

‘He special, eh?' My Yiayia is as sharp as a tack. Nothing gets past her. ‘Your eyes tell me this boy special, not like that stupid Denny.' Yiayia hated Denny right from the beginning. She was right, of course, she always is. I just didn't listen to anyone then.

‘It sounds crazy, Yiayia, but I think he is.' I know she won't think I've lost my mind. She's the only one in my family that would get this, because she's the only one that has ever gotten me. I am just so glad she's back and living with us now. I honestly don't think I could do this without her. And I wouldn't want to. I want my Yiayia along for the ride.

Yes, Chris, you will definitely see me tonight. This is it. Tonight is the night. It's going to happen. My head knows that this is right, even though Chris and I have only been together for a month. The time is right, the scene is set.

‘Absolutely. Can't wait to see what you've cooked up for me.' Chris is cooking me dinner tonight. I wonder if he has any idea what I am cooking up. ‘I'll be there around six.'

‘What are you up to today?'

There's so much that I have to do before I go to Chris's tonight, but I can't tell him what. That would just kill all the mystery.

‘Just some shopping with Ricki – usual girlie Saturday afternoon stuff. I'm meeting her in the city.' I'm not lying, just not mentioning exactly what we are shopping for. And not mentioning that she specifically drove down from Ocean Grove to hold my hand through this shopping trip. Thank God she's a lot closer now and we do stuff like this pretty easily. Thank God we found her a place within walking distance to the beach, which means we'll be able to do some serious work on our tans. She's actually starting to see that the transfer to Ocean Grove is not the tragedy she initially thought it was, although she is still scamming a way to make it back to the Melbourne office as soon as possible.

‘What are you up to today?'

‘Taking some cooking lessons so I don't end up poisoning you tonight.'

As if that would happen. I would eat anything that he served up.

‘You're too funny. I gotta go.' Things to do, items to buy.

‘It's not too much, Des. It's just little enough.'

Great, my life is full of comedians. But she has a point. After all, tonight is not a night for control tops and a granny bra.

‘You can't resist it because it's purple.'

She knows me so well, it's scary.

‘Well, Chris will be disappointed if he gets under my layers and finds the predictable white, back or red.' I think this is it. I mean, we've only been to four lingerie shops and modelled what feels like a hundred different ensembles. I can do it no more. This is it, the last one. ‘Now get out of here so I can get dressed.'

‘Hurry up, we've got another stop to make.' Yikes.

I don't know if I can make the final purchase. Maybe I should give Chris a hint about what I am planning tonight and leave the final purchase up to him.

‘Coffee first.'

‘You chicken.'

Yep, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Besides, Starbucks is right across the road and I need a caffeine fix.

‘Do you plan on coming upstairs tonight, babe?'

Where the hell did he come from? Then I remember –the garage is hooked up to the monitor. Just how long have I been sitting here? And how long has Chris been watching me on the monitor hooked up with the intercom? Oops. I'm embarrassed now. I feel like such a dipstick tonight. I don't know why. This is what I want; I just wish I knew how I was going to go about it.

Oh, wow, now I know I have definitely got something amazing here with Chris. Dinner was incredible – a romantic meal prepared for me by my baby. He must have been cooking all day for this. He even had dessert taken care of, but that I know was courtesy of a trip to The Cheesecake Shop. I won't hold that against him. I'd rather hold myself against him. I think I might be losing my mind here. A couple of glasses of wine have loosened me up a bit but I don't want to be tanked tonight. Getting drunk and passing out would ruin the whole night and after the build-up that I have been through there is no way that I am letting that happen.

‘Are you going to join me on this couch, Chris?' Such a honey, he wouldn't even let me help clear the dishes. Granted, all he had to do was stack them into a dishwasher, but he did it anyway, telling me that this was my night to be pampered, after all, I had shopped hard all day. Sarcasm was not lost on me. I want him right here beside me. Why isn't he picking up on the subtle hints that I have been dropping all night? Is he really just as dense as every other male in the world?