Traveling Light (32 page)

Maybe she’d write a monograph about the area. Yet as she thought about the prospect of beginning such a research project, she was struck with a sadness that she’d never get to it. Perhaps she’d mention it to Bernie when she found the time to drive to Thunder Bay.

After dinner, Eleni spoke for about fifteen minutes on the significance of the evil eye and the Hamsa for the Mediterranean people. Paula looked around the room; many of the women sparkled with their evil eye jewelry.

After Eleni’s talk, Barb Zimmer got down to brass tacks about Avon products. Before the individual beauty consultations began, Barb singled out Paula for a group beauty consultation, demonstration and makeover. Though a lighted mirror was set on the table, Barb turned Paula’s chair to face the crowd as the women clustered around like a convocation of eagles in a tree. Barb held a magnifying glass up to Paula’s skin, discussed her crow’s-feet, dry patchy areas and frown lines on her forehead between her brow. One by one the women filed by, poring over Paula’s face like some Rosetta stone. As Barb tilted Paula’s head, she began a full consultation on older skin. Paula frowned and looked sideways at the woman.

“Look, you see how she frowns?” Barb said to the group. They all leaned in and nodded. Barb turned to Paula. “You have more frown than smile lines. You really should try to smile more,” Barb advised. “All that frowning’s scored grooves in your skin.”

Paula flipped around to look at her face in the lighted mirror.

“Whatever happened to ‘character lines’?” Paula shot back.

Barb frowned and glared back at Paula. “Women don’t get character lines; they only wrinkle.”

Paula was about to argue when Eleni gave her the death stare from the seat across. Paula slinked back. It pained her to let a statement like that go unchallenged, but it was better than arguing with a bunch of Avon ladies, and heaven forbid she rain on Eleni’s parade.

Barb shook a bottle vigorously before squeezing a drop of white liquid onto a cotton ball. Then Barb scrubbed Paula’s face before studying the fiber with certain disguised pride. Barb then held it out for the ladies to examine. “See the filth on her skin,” Barb said.

“Hhhh,” the group reacted. Eleni clicked her tongue in disapproval, shaking her head.

Paula frowned and gave Barb the eye. “Uhh—I think ‘filth’ is a bit strong,” Paula said in her defense. A few of the women chuckled.

After the facial scrub, Barb said, “There. Now we have a clean canvas. Moisturizer and foundation come next.”

Barb looked increasingly pleased as she layered product after product. Paula’s tailbone began to hurt from sitting so long.

Finally, after three shades of eye shadow, layers of foundation, blush and cover-up under Paula’s eyes, Barb stood back for everyone to see. “There. Now you’re done. Everyone: look at the transformation.”

The women were oooing and ahhing in approval. Barb explained Paula’s facial flaws and how they’d been corrected.

“Einai Oraio.” Paula turned as she heard Eleni pipe up. A sharp look from her said Paula ought to make more of an effort to fix herself this way.

“Now turn around and look,” Barb said with an eager smile.

As Paula stood to face the lighted mirror, she almost laughed.
Bride of Dracula
came to mind.

*   *   *

As she and Eleni were driving home Paula was infused with a deep feeling of
endaksi,
or well-being. It felt good to share a sense of belonging with this new group of people. They’d been so welcoming and open, though her face was itching and she couldn’t wait to get home and wash.

Upon Paula’s turning into Rick’s driveway, Eleni sighed deeply. “I like these people, Paula,” she said. “Not so much that Barb, though.”

CHAPTER 13

The morning after the Avon party, Paula and Eleni sat in front of the guesthouse on the pebbly beach in two lawn chairs. It was the first day off that Paula had taken since arriving. The calm lake and clear sky were mesmerizing as the two munched on leftover cold spanakopita and plowed through a bottle of white wine Eleni had discovered in a closet.

A plastic bucket served as a makeshift table, separating the two chairs and balancing the platter of food, wineglasses and bottle. Fotis sat beside them, begging for squares of spanakopita, of which he’d already downed two. They ate off mismatched dinner plates from the guesthouse kitchen.

“Ahhh.” Eleni took a bite of the cold spanakopita and kicked back, using a rock as an ottoman. “Now this is the life. What a great country—God bless America,
opa
!”

“Yeah,” Paula agreed. “Spanakopita always tastes better cold from the pan the next day.”

“Agreed,” Eleni said, using her fork for emphasis. She took another sip of wine and bunched the moose-patterned throw closer around her hips. “By the way,” she alerted her daughter. “Tomorrow I have plans.”

Paula looked at her. “What kind of plans?”

“I’m going for brunch with the ladies from the Avon party.”

“Not that Barb, I hope.”

“Uch,
no.” Eleni gave an emphatic head shake. “With the ladies at the Oklahoma Café. Some of them have names like Christmas cookies, I can’t remember. And then after, that funny Marvelline and I are going on a long walk.”

Paula stopped chewing. “Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I’m not,” Paula lied.

“Yes, you are; I just saw your face.”

“No, I’m pleased, Mom.”

“What?” Eleni turned toward her. “You don’t think I know how to make friends?”

“Of course you do,” Paula said, laughing. “I’m happy for you.”

“I like the people here.” She looked round at the hills, the sky. “You picked a good town.”

“Thanks, but I hardly picked it.”

Eleni turned to her. “Why do you always give me a hard time?”

“I’m not,” Paula protested, looking out at the lake.

“Can’t you just say, ‘Thanks,
mitera,
yes, I did pick a nice town’?”

Paula let it go.

To prevent her dyed hair from fading, Eleni had wrapped a china blue print head scarf around her copper hair. Both ends were crossed under her chin and secured behind her neck like a forties movie star. Eleni had an elegance about her that Paula guessed her mother wasn’t aware of. She wondered if it had been that way all her mother’s life. Eleni’s eyes were obscured by Paula’s knockoff Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. Since the Korean War, Eleni had worn the same red lipstick, but this morning—upon the advice of last night’s beauty consultant—her lips were a coral shade the rep had thought more flattering. Eleni looked like Garbo at a seaside rest home.

“It’s a little brisk out here,” Eleni said, rearranging the moose-imaged throw from the couch around her legs. Paula guessed they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

Once the food was gone, Fotis settled down, but not until he’d licked each plate clean. He was perfectly content sitting beside Eleni, keeping her company as she sat reading through back issues of
People
and
Us
magazines left behind by the previous renters.

Paula pivoted to face the sun and lifted her face.

“Have you already forgotten what the Avon rep said about your crow’s-feet?”

“Thanks for reminding me, Mom,” Paula said, but didn’t move.

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“Fine. Get like a wrinkled prune, like that Barb said,” Eleni said. “See if I care.”

Paula smiled.

Though the air was cool, the warmth of the autumn sun was restorative. The water shimmered. Somewhere far out on the lake they heard the drone of a motorboat. It was so quiet you could feel your ears working.

“I like it here,” Eleni announced. She surveyed the place like she was considering buying it.

“Yeah, I do, too,” Paula said.

“Maybe we should move here and I’ll come live with you.”

Paula laughed.

“I mean it.”

“I’m sure you do, Mom.”

“And what about ‘that Rick’?”

“What about him?” Paula said dispassionately with closed eyes, up to the sun.

The aluminum frame of Eleni’s chair squeaked. Paula could feel her mother’s eyes through the dark lenses.

“What a guy, huh?”

Paula refused to take the bait.

“Nice, good-looking, a real gentleman,” Eleni said, tilting her head toward Paula and raising her eyebrows.

“Mom?” Paula tilted hers toward Eleni. “Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “I have to go back.”

“Why?”

“Why? He’s my husband.”

“So?”

She opened her eyes, not believing what Eleni was proposing. “You know I love Roger.”

“Love?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Paula met her with a territorial glare, more shocked by Eleni’s insistence than the question.

“It means that I’ve known something’s very wrong, that’s all.” Eleni didn’t give an inch. “Mother’s instinct.”

Paula looked away first. So rigid she couldn’t breathe. Though Roger was deep in the periphery of her heart and thoughts, a whole life had bloomed and was establishing itself—the eagle, the owl, Maggie, Rick, Darryl and the craftspeople Paula had started to become friends with, the breathtaking eyeful of landscape that filled every corner of her vision, they’d all opened the way to something fresh and sustainable. A new home had fallen into place.

“Has he called?”

“No. He can’t. He’s underground in the collider. He won’t for another week or so.”

They were quiet for a few moments before Eleni spoke.

“You think when my daughter never once has me over to show off her home that I don’t wonder?” Eleni asked. “Daughters want to show off their homes, have their mothers over. Even with the first bum you married,” she said, “you had me over.”

Paula listened with a ready excuse but squelched it.

“You were so proud of how you fixed up that little apartment,” Eleni went on, turning to face her. “You’d made a home, Paula. At eighteen. You’d made a home you were proud of. And then your apartment before you married Roger. Remember? We used to get Chinese food every Sunday night and watch
Sixty Minutes
with that adorable Morley Safer. I like him.”

Paula looked into her lap. She had no defense.

“But now we meet at restaurants somewhere like it’s a job interview.”

Paula’s whole body stiffened. Eleni knew all; Paula had no comeback.

“Come closer,
kaimeni.
” Eleni patted her thigh. “Come here.”

Paula’s face contorted in the way she’d cry as a little girl. She couldn’t stop it; the muscles cramped in agony.

“Come, move your chair closer.” Eleni scooted hers, pushing the plastic bucket aside. “You’re all bottled up.”

“Things have been very sad for a long time.” The words hiccupped out of her and she couldn’t stop. “I couldn’t tell you. I was ashamed, embarrassed.”

Eleni patted her thigh. Paula leaned over, resting her head on Eleni’s lap like she did as a child. “Go ahead and cry,
kaimeni;
don’t be ashamed.”

Her chest had been bound with straps so long that the knots were too hard to untie. “Go ahead,” Eleni said. After only a few minutes, they loosened and Paula felt better. “There’s something wrong with him.”

“Did you see it before we married?” Paula hiccupped as she sat up. Her nose was so stuffed; her face felt like it was filled with wet concrete. Eleni pulled a tissue from her sleeve and held it up to Paula’s nose.

“Blow,” Eleni commanded. Paula blew into the tissue. “Again,” Eleni ordered. Paula could finally breathe. “Not so much,” Eleni said. “Everyone thought you two looked happy, I did, too. So in love. Even that Elvira, the
pharmakia.
” Eleni looked at Paula. “You remember her. The priest’s wife who’s a sourpuss and a bitch thought so, too. There was such hope, but sometimes hope isn’t enough.”

They sat like that for some time. The sun began to warm the breeze, the remaining leaves on the surrounding trees so bright it hurt to look at them.

“Oh, Paula,” Eleni went on to explain, “when people have been unhappy in love it’s easy to spot it in others. You feel it. It’s like a sixth sense.”

It made Paula sit up straight. Eleni didn’t look back but rather pulled out another tissue from her sleeve and handed it over.

“Here, wipe off your mascara,” she said. “You look like a raccoon.”

Paula chuckled as she wiped; the tissue was black with eye makeup.

“So, you were unhappy with Dad?”

The way the sun shone on Eleni’s face Paula could see through the dark lenses into her mother’s sad eyes. Eleni then laughed to herself and reached over to touch Fotis’ head. The dog looked up. She didn’t answer immediately but looked out to the lake. Whether she was reluctant or gathering her thoughts, Paula watched as Eleni studied the blue horizon.

“You see,” Eleni began. “Long ago before I worked for old man Pappas, I worked for other furriers. I had just started a new job when I met Vassili and he proposed. I was nearly thirty. No one else had asked and everyone said to take it.” She looked at Paula. “Nobody wants an old woman and back then thirty was old. Now at fifty they’re half-naked on the beach with those water balloon boobs.” She stopped. “Vassili was a hard worker. No one could
ever
fault him for that, ten years older, clean, didn’t drink too much. But the month after we married, Thanassis, the son of my new boss, surfaced out of nowhere. Same age as me, an artist, smart and talented, but not right in the head,” Eleni tapped her head with the empty wine bottle. “But whenever I looked at him I felt like the world was being created for me.”

“Wait, so you were married to Dad then?”

Eleni looked at her through the dark glasses, adjusted the throw around her feet.

“I kicked myself,” Eleni said. “Letting the others talk me into it, but how could I have known? The agony of missed timing, bad chances, but that wasn’t all there was to it, Paula.”

“What do you mean?”

“Thanassis would hear voices. He made beautiful paintings, but then he’d disappear for weeks. His father would go searching, sometimes finding him in an alley, batting away things that weren’t there.”