“Like this, Eva. Like this. Then slice. Now try, try.” Yiayiá had placed a cucumber on a cutting board and put a sharp blade into Eva’s hand, handle side first. Then she stood back and observed.
Eva had made one slice before her finger got in the way. The blood hadn’t scared her, and now she couldn’t even remember the pain, the only thing she could remember was her Yiayiá. The elderly woman wailed. “Oh no, no, no,” she chanted, along with some choice phrases in Greek. She rushed to Eva, towel in hand, and pressed against the wound. “No cut no more. I cut,” she insisted. “I cut.” Yiayiá clutched Eva tight to her ample bosom, the scent of anisette and lamb powerful and intoxicating. After a few minutes rocking her back and forth, Yiayiá took the towel off of Eva’s wound. “Good yes? Like new?” she examined the tiny cut on Eva’s finger, now mostly clotted. Yiayiá took down a bandage and wrapped it. Eva proudly sported the sparkly bandage until it grew dingy and fell off in the tub. Eva remembered her Yiayiá returning to the lamb, but looking at the towel, at the small speckles of blood, and saying to herself, in perfect English, “I can see it. There, in her blood. Listen as it whispers to you. She must die to live again.”
That sour turn of the memory made Eva’s stomach clench. She put the food back in the fridge and jogged upstairs to her room.
Lori followed her in with a sigh. “I have no idea what I did with my shoes. I can’t find them anywhere.”
Eva walked to the radish-colored bathroom attached to her mauve bedroom. “Bummer. Sorry you can’t find your shoes. Need a pair of mine?”
“No, I’m going to wear these. It’s frustrating because I know they’re here somewhere, but I don’t have time to look. Bill’s going to be early. Just wanted to let you know that I’m heading out.”
Eva poked her finger into one eye, waiting for the familiar suction feel of the contact before leaning out of the doorframe to respond. “Have fun tonight.”
“You too. And don’t forget to call for an Uber if you drink. Or you can call me. I’m sure I’ll be home early enough to be your designated.”
“Will do.”
“Eva?”
Eva looked up. “What’s up?”
“Be responsible tonight.”
“Always.”
Lori turned to leave, but spun back around. “Eva?”
“What?”
“Also have fun. Be responsible but have fun. Ooooh, be responsible for having fun.” Pleased with herself, Lori grabbed her keys and smiled.
Eva watched her mom slowly turn to leave, still scanning the floor for her sparkly shoes, and hoped she would age as gracefully. Lori’s voluptuous frame was reminiscent of the great Marilyn Monroe, and the thin laugh lines that crept from the corners of her almond eyes gave a nod to her happy spirit. She was way too pretty for Bill, and Eva didn’t understand what her mom saw in him. Sure, he was attractive in a bland, plastic way, had money, and took her to nice places, but there was something off about him. The memory of him at Home Depot again entered Eva’s mind. He was too smiley. Like the Joker. And he smelled funny. Not like stinky garbage funny, or even old man funny, just funny. But Bill was the first man who’d made her mom happy since her dad left.
“Oh well,” Eva sighed aloud to her reflection. She didn’t care whether or not her mom dated, but she didn’t like to think about her dad abandoning them. Eva studied herself in the mirror. It had been so long since she had seen her dad in person; she had a hard time identifying which parts of her face belonged to him. She had her mother’s almond-shaped eyes, round face, high cheekbones, and full lips. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what her father looked like. Lori swooned and called Eva into the living room each time John Stamos came on TV advertising Greek yogurt. She swore Dean could be his doppelganger, and from the pictures Eva saw, she wasn’t too far off. Thanks to John Stamos, and some very old photos, Eva knew her tan skin tone was because of her father. She brought her hand to her face. Is this his nose?
Rooooaaarrr! Chewbacca’s howl went off, signifying a new text, and she fought the urge to squeal.
Bridget: My mom won’t get out of my ass about sending you this. She can’t work her new phone so here’s the link. I’ll let her know that you got it. I’m almost ready! See you very soon! Bring mace!
Eva clicked on the attached link and the messaging screen promptly traded places with a YouTube app.