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Northern Eyes

The sun is bright and hot. It stings my eyes. I close them and I see red behind my eyelids. I think, “I’m tired of making all the decisions my self. I need someone else to make the plan for the day”. You say, “Today we’re going to swim in Heronissos”, “Tonight we’ll have dinner at “Odos Oniron”. And I say “yes”. You decide everything and you chose all my favorite places. So relaxed for the first time in my life.

I see you in a jewelry shop for the first time. I’m trying a pair of earrings. You say, “You should buy them”. I say “maybe” and I leave.

The next days I see you almost everywhere. In ‘Botzi”, in “Argo”, in Vathy, while I’m having breakfast in “Rabagas”, when I swim in Platy Gialos. You invite my friends and me for dinner, and my appetite surprises you. I say, “I love Italian food” I say and you reply “I’ll cook for you tomorrow night”. And I say yes, and it’s funny because I had decided to say no.

We cook together very often in the small, isolated, white beach house you’ve rented in Vathy, and invite all the friends we’ve made on the island to come over for dinner. But every evening we go first to Kastro to see the moon rising, sitting on some rocks, at the most beautiful bar in the world, the name of which we keep as a secret, so that it will never be too well-known and crowded. I have a kitten on my lap and I play with it. I suddenly say, “You have to promise. You wont’ e-mail or text me, or call me after you leave”. You look at me with those northern eyes of yours and you say, “Of course I won’t”. And then you kiss me and we go home.

You wake me up in the middle of the night and you make martinis and we sip it half-lying on the beach. We don’t talk to each other at all and when we finish the drinks we make love and then we return to the house. We lie on the bed. You start talking to me in your language for a few minutes. Not just words, but long sentences, like you’re telling a story. I don’t understand anything. I laugh. You look serious. You pull me close and we make love again. I can see the first light of the day through our window.

I have bought a dark blue pillowcase; I love the contrast it makes with your hair. I have a white one. I put the timer of my camera on and now we have a picture, my dark head on the white pillow next to your blond head on the dark blue pillow.

I forbid you to use your shower gel or your perfume. I say, “You’ll use my shower gel and no perfume at all. I don’t want to smell your smell on a strange someday and get this Sifnos feeling again.” “It will break my heart” I think, but I don’t say it out loud.

Tonight we’re dancing bare-footed in the little bar in Kastro. I sing along “¿Como te voy a olvidar…”; you ask me what it means. I say, “How am I going to forget you”. You say “You won’t. I won’t”. You are so sweet.

I’m trying to drive my new car through the narrow streets of the island. I swear in Greek and you laugh. You are young, you are blond, you are beautiful, you are laughing out loud and I can clearly see the small child you once were. I give you the keys and now you drive. You hold my hand (oh, I love automatic cars!), I close my eyes, now I’m the child, I feel safe.

It’s your last day on the island. I’ll keep the house for a few more days. I say, “Please don’t leave anything behind. Not even a cigarette end in the ashtray. Like you’ve never existed.” You say “Don’t worry, I won’t”.

I’m driving you to the port. We’re not kissing and we’re not hugging. We had agreed on that. We say “goodbye”, I’m crying a little as I watch you getting on the boat. I drive back home and you haven’t left anything there. Then I find a half-smoked Marlboro in the ashtray. I hate you for that. I love you for that. Under the ashtray you’ve left a letter for me. I read it now.

This post first appeared on The Ladies Way, please read the originial post: here

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Northern Eyes


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