Nicolai's Daughters (18 page)

She arrived twenty minutes late. Although she could see the sign for the restaurant, she couldn't reach it, trapped as she was in a maze of one-way streets. She went around once, then two more times before she found a parking spot five blocks away. She ran as fast as she could, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

Alexia spotted Theodora sitting in the corner, bouncing a fidgeting Nicky on her knee. Her stomach felt empty and nervous, as if she was about to throw up. Theodora waved her over. Theodora's hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “I did not think you would come,” Theodora said, and gazed at the back of her son's head. She didn't look at Alexia and seemed to be using her son as a shield.

Alexia felt sweaty and spent. She wouldn't have bought the moped, wouldn't have come, if it wasn't for having to meet Theodora here for lunch. And she wouldn't be in this country either if it weren't for their father. Their father. He fathered both of them. How did things get so out of control?

Alexia shrugged.

“Do not worry.” Theodora laughed, putting Nicky down beside her. “Sit down.”

“What?” Alexia couldn't control the irritation in her voice. She threw her gloves on the table and they fell onto the floor. “Nothing's going my way today.” She bent down and picked up her gloves.

Theodora pointed at Alexia's head.

She gingerly touched her head, then rolled her eyes. She'd run the entire way with her helmet strapped onto her head.

“I'm such an idiot,” she said and laughed. She took off the helmet, released her ponytail and ran her fingers through her damp, tangled hair. Her face felt caked with dirt. A fine layer of dust covered her blue pants and tiny insect bodies speckled her shirt.

Nicky stared at Alexia and whimpered. Theodora tried to comfort him with whispers and a stuffed frog. Its chest croaked when she pushed it. Nicky turned away from Alexia and lay down beside his mother on the bench. “He is not even two,” Theodora said. “He is shy.”

“I scare small children,” Alexia said. “I'm a mess.” She signalled towards the bathroom and went to wash her face and hands, fix her hair. People stared as she walked by. She smiled. What else could she do?

When she returned to the table, the waiter plopped a glass of water in front of her and stood above her, tapping the bottom of his tray. He asked what Alexia wanted. Theodora answered, her eyes slightly tipped down. “She's just arrived.” Her olive skin was radiant against her orange sweater. She had one of those open, trusting faces. How can I sit here and be dishonest with her, Alexia asked herself, not tell her who I am and what I'm doing here?

Theodora's bare legs were crossed and slanted to one side of the table as if she wanted someone to notice them. Dressed in a snake-covered stiletto heel, one foot bobbed persistently. The other shoe lay on the floor like discarded skin. Her son watched her swinging foot, sucking his thumb, his frog tucked into his chest. The toy's murmur seemed to comfort him.

“You look great,” Alexia said. “I feel like a hag.”

“What is hag?”

“Hag means a woman who is old, dirty, more like a witch.” Alexia pointed to herself. “The complete opposite of what you look like. I'm jealous.”

Theodora looked away, a blush rising.

“I don't know why I bought that stupid moped. I let a good-looking Greek charm me.” Alexia spotted another smear, this one on her pants, and dunked her napkin into the glass of water and rubbed at the mark. “I thought I got all these bugs off when I was in the bathroom.”

“My husband had a motorbike once. We used to go on many trips. I like the air, the roar, being on the road. Away. The sound drowns things.”

“I don't know how I'm going to get home on that thing.”

“Eat now,” Theodora said. “Later we think.”

Alexia nodded and glanced at the menu. She couldn't figure out what she wanted, didn't know what half of things on the menu were. She peered over at Theodora, who hummed quietly to her son. Liking Theodora wasn't going to be difficult. Telling her the truth was another matter. Theodora would surely feel betrayed and that was going to be the end of it. “I don't know what I want.”

“You are not the only one,” Theodora said. “I marry butcher and I don't know what to make for supper most times. I never know. This happens.”

“And that's okay for you?”

“Okay or no. What can I do? Nothing. Yes or no?”

Alexia nodded. “I like to control things.”

“Yes, I see.”

“How?”

“I can see the worry on your face.”

“Are you talking about my wrinkles?” Alexia teased.

Theodora furrowed her brow, stared at Alexia with intent. “Your eyes look like this,” she said. “Like you think all the time. Never stop.”

Alexia laughed at the face Theodora made.

“You like I order for us?” Theodora asked.

“Please.”

Theodora ordered grilled vegetables, a salad, bread and olives. “Calamari?”

“No thanks.” Alexia listened and understood a good part of the conversation between Theodora and the waiter. The Greek lessons were helping.

Without the distraction of the waiter, Alexia stared at her cutlery, then began talking quickly. She found herself going on about the highway, the cars and trucks and buses, how people used the shoulder as another driving lane, how frightened she'd been on the moped. As she talked, she ripped at the bread on her side plate and shoved small bits into her mouth. Theodora looked down at Nicky.

Alexia put the bread down, swallowed what was in her mouth. Stop it, she told herself. She had no reason to be nervous. She ducked down to see what Nicky was up to. He was tracing the dark lines of his mother's shoe with his index finger, the thumb of his other hand in his mouth. They both watched him for several seconds. “Nicky plays somewhere else, another world.”

“When I'm nervous, I talk too much.”

Theodora said, “I am more quiet when I am nervous.”

The waiter arrived with a bowl of salad, a plate of grilled vegetables and a small bowl of mixed olives, and placed them in the middle of the table. He asked whether he should bring side plates.

“
Ne
,” Alexia said.

“
Oxi
, we have forks. Do we need anything else?”

“
Piato
,” Alexia said.

Theodora speared a slice of zucchini, made several dainty cuts in the oily flesh. She gave Nicky a few pieces, then took one small mouthful for herself.

Alexia wondered if Theodora had heard her ask for another plate.

“Andreas liked eating like this,” she said. “One plate, two forks
.
Before we marry.” Theodora's smile waned slightly, her shoulders rounded. She sat up straight again as if someone had rapped her shoulder, warning her to fix her posture. “He is a very good man. We are friends since childhood.”

“Maybe he's concerned about germs.”

Nicky sneezed. She brought him to her lap. “
Kalo yia mena, kalo yia sena
,” she said and kissed his stomach. He giggled, his head thrown back, pushing her face away.

“Excuse me?”

“When a person sneezes, it means someone is thinking about them.”

“Everyone talks about everyone else in this country, so it's no wonder.”

“If they think about us, then we hope they think good thoughts.”

“That's nice. Highly unlikely, but nice.”

“Yes, yes, you are right. So we Greeks have solution for this, too. If they think badly of us, then we wish the bad thoughts go back on them instead.”

“Get them before they get you. Is that it?”

Theodora nodded. Alexia thought about her father's many girlfriends and how she had once wished bad thoughts on them, hoping they would die or move or leave her and her father alone.

She had really tried with his first “friend.” It had been a long time since her mother died and she wanted him to find someone. She was a teenager, after all; she understood. But that first woman didn't have much interest in Alexia's copy of
Moby Dick
or any of the other books she showed her. Instead, the bimbo said, “We should go find your father, see what he's doing.” She couldn't remember her name, but she remembered her fake smile. Later, Alexia overheard her say to Nicolai, “Can you get a sitter next Saturday so we can spend some quiet time alone?”

“Sure,” he said. “Why not? My friends Mavis and Stuart are always eager to have Alexia over for a weekend.”

After that, Alexia made no effort with his women. She sulked and her father ignored her. Sometimes she got angry with him and he said, “You have your friends. Doesn't your old dad deserve a few, too?”

“But they don't like me,” Alexia said.

“You don't try.”

The more she hated them and closed herself off, the more he insisted they attend her basketball games, come over for supper, go to the movies.

Loud shouts erupted at the bar. Theodora and Alexia turned towards the squabbling group of men. When they realized everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, the men shrugged. The women at the table beside Theodora and Alexia shook their heads and returned to their conversation.

“Men,” Alexia said. “They have to better one another.”

“Do you have husband?”

“Too much responsibility. No.”

“There is someone at the bar who looks at you.” Theodora tilted her head.

Alexia didn't turn. “My life is complicated enough.”

“How is it complicated?”

Alexia shook her head. “Losing my father, getting to know his family. Well, my family, too. It's all complicated.” Was she really using Nicolai's throwaway word to describe what she was facing? She glanced over at the bar and caught a glimpse of the man's confident smile. “No, I don't need any more complications.”

“Life is this way.” Theodora passed the bowl of olives.

“No thanks.”

“You don't like olives?”

“I know. I know. People have bugged me about it my whole life. My father used to shake his finger at me.” She mimicked his finger wagging and Theodora laughed. “And give me one of his looks, supposedly to force me to give them another try.”

Theodora laughed again.

Alexia grinned. She liked Theodora's laugh. “He said I was stubborn. I guess I am. But I hate olives for real.” Alexia scrunched up her face and pulled her cheeks inward. “They're just too sour for me. I don't get why anyone would want to eat them.”

“My stepfather told me tree-ripened olives were the best. I believed him and tried one. I guess it was a joke. I did not understand. This was the end for me.”

“Why did you order them?”

“I thought you might like them. I should ask you first. Yes?”

“Do you see your stepfather often?”

The waiter hovered and asked if they wanted coffee. They both shook their heads.

“We talk on the telephone once per week,” Theodora said.

“Do you go to see him?”

“Elena doesn't believe married women should travel without their husbands. Andreas is busy in his shop. But I want to one day. He is the only father I have.”

As they talked about Theodora's stepfather, her husband and Alexia's career, Theodora's smile remained fixed, but now and again her mouth twisted as if forcing herself to maintain it against her own wishes. Her plump lips hinted at what she was feeling and reminded Alexia of her father. He'd say one thing, but his jittery mouth said something different. And his eyes, the way he sometimes looked away, betrayed his thoughts.

“You remind me of someone.”

Alexia wondered what might come next. Had Theodora seen pictures of Nicolai? Or might Nicolai have sent pictures of Alexia to Theodora's mother?

“A girl from my school,” Theodora said.

“You go to school?”

“Not now. When I was child.”

“This is my first time in Greece.”

“And I have never been outside of Greece.”

“Do you have any memory of your father?” Alexia jabbed her fingernails into the bottom of her thighs, a habit she'd developed after her mother died.

“He worked on a ship and died in an accident before I was born.”

“Your mother told you that?” Alexia blurted out. “Um, I mean, did she tell you about him? What he was like?”

“My mother told me a little, but she did not like to talk about him. I had a stepfather who was good to me my whole life.”

The waiter stepped in to see if they wanted anything else. They hadn't finished the salad and were only partway through the vegetables. Theodora asked the waiter to remove the olives and to bring back a tray of the day's selected desserts.

Alexia stared at her. They had both been lied to by parents who should have told them the truth. And now, Alexia was caught up in these lies. How was she going to get herself out of this thing? How could there ever be a happy ending to this?

“The
bougatsa
is good. Save room.” Theodora's smile was so innocent.

“Dessert should always come first.” Alexia edged her hands out from underneath her. They felt stiff.

“Elena says sweets are the devil.
She
is the devil.” Theodora put her hand over her mouth. “Oh. I should not say these things.”

“It's only between us.”

“I do not want anything bad to happen to her. I just wish she lived somewhere else or…” She patted her mouth with her napkin, shook her head.

“Or liked you more?”

“
Ne
.” Theodora looked directly into Alexia's eyes for a moment, then quickly away. I bet you're shy, Alexia thought. Like your son. Maybe you got that from your mother. You sure didn't get it from your father.

“She's probably a bitter old woman.”

Theodora nodded, then laughed. “I wish I could say these things.”