“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just not very hungry.”
We told stories about the old days and Wild Dunes when our children were little. We reminisced about Max’s fall and how Clarabeth felt responsible. And, once again, described how Carl all but saved his life. Clarabeth had always had a kind word and a little surprise in her pocket for the kids. She was the most thoughtful woman I’d ever known. We got through the weekend, but only with God’s grace and quite possibly Clarabeth’s loving eye looking down on us. I was so happy to see my boys and to see with my own eyes that they were satisfied with their lives and their futures.
Sunday night, the last night Adam and I were together, was awfully sad. The boys had left, Luke to Atlanta and Max to Durham. I wouldn’t see them again until Easter, and even that wasn’t certain. It had begun to dawn on Adam that he had done some serious damage to our marriage and that it might have been irreparable.
We were sitting in the kitchen, eating the hamburgers and French fries that I’d made for supper.
“I don’t want you to go, Eliza. I know I’ve probably been an idiot.”
“Not probably,” I said.
“Come on, Eliza, cut me some slack. You know I love you and you know that whatever I did that you think was so wrong, well, I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll be the perfect husband. I swear.”
“That’s not enough, Adam.”
“Jesus! What do you want from me?”
“I want you to understand that you hid your desire for Eve from me for over twenty years. How would you like it if I was miserable inside because I couldn’t be with someone but I put on a brave face for you for all these years? How would you feel if you found out it was a friend of yours?”
“Probably not so great. But this wasn’t like that.”
“Yes, it was, Adam. From where I’m standing, it was exactly like that. You think about it and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. I’ll let you know.”
“God, Eliza. I feel so terrible inside. You make me feel so terrible.”
“Classic man. Blame transference. All this heartbreak is a result of your ego. Not mine. Yours.”
“So what are you telling me? That I can never make things right?”
“To be honest, Adam? I don’t know.”
chapter 18
back in corfu
I was in the kitchen at the restaurant with Alexandros rolling dolmades, known in America as stuffed grape leaves. He showed me how to roll them tightly so they didn’t fall apart, something I’d never been able to accomplish at home on the two occasions I attempted to make them. And he was tickled pink to show me how to make all the traditional dishes of Corfu. His hospitality was irresistible. I had arrived with a lemon cheesecake with meringue topping that won his heart. He sliced himself a piece immediately.
“This is delicious!” he said and licked his fingers. “Will you make this for me to sell?”
“Of course!”
“It’s so good to have you back! Tell me about your family. Is everyone fine?”
“Well, it was very sad to lose our dear friend, especially in such a sudden way. She was like an adopted grandmother to my boys almost all their lives.”
“Yes, I understand. Terrible. And the boys handled it okay?”
“Yes, yes. My boys are doing very well, thanks.”
“And your husband?”
“He lives in the doghouse now. In the backyard of my house.”
Alexandros laughed so hard his little belly shook. I wondered if Kiki or Nicholas had said something to him about my situation. Probably.
“What did he do to get moved into the dog’s house?”
“He got caught,” I said.
“Ah!” he said.
No further explanation required.
I said, “Hey, do you want me to make the tzatziki?”
Alexandros made tzatziki fresh every day. It was a simple dip made of garlic, cucumber, and plain yogurt. His patrons used it on everything and with everything.
“Yes, please.” He looked at me long and hard. “I don’t know this husband of yours, but I am one hundred percent positive that he is very foolish.”
Alexandros was so serious and dramatic it made me laugh.
“Why do you say that?” I was peeling cucumbers then, happy just to be there.
“Humph. Because he let you out of his sight. If you were mine, I’d never take one eye from you.”
I knew what he meant. He had no intention to remove one of my eyeballs.
“Oh, Alexandros! You are too sweet.” I blew him a kiss. “You don’t let your wife travel to see her family?”
“Oh, yes. Of course I do. I wish she would travel more!”
“Alexandros! Are you flirting with me?”
He was smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, no! I’m simply explaining the situation. She is a bitter woman and no longer a pleasure to live with.”
He was flirting not because I was an object of his affection but because he was so gregarious it was impossible for him not to flirt.
“Is this because you got caught?”
“No, it is because she gained one hundred kilos.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. She is a whale. I want her to be happy, but please, go be happy on Mykonos with her relatives. Please. Would you please get us a liter of olive oil from the storage room?”
“You bet!” Was his wife really that fat? I’d have to ask Kiki. “Alexandros? How much olive oil do you think you use every week?” It seemed to me that he was always opening another can.
“Six, seven liters? What does this ‘you bet’ mean?”
I put the huge can of olive oil on the counter near him and took the empty one away to discard.
“Well, it means ‘you can bet money that I will do it.’ Slang versions vary from ‘ya bet your booties, baby!’ to ‘you can bet your life on it!’ or ‘you betcha.’”
“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to simply say, ‘of course I will,’ or ‘with pleasure’?”
“Yes! But isn’t it more charming and colorful to paint the picture with an image than to be precise and succinct?”
“Yes, I agree. Greek is like that too. Well, you improve my English and I’ll teach you how to make taramosalata! And kleftiko!”
Taramosalata was a rich dip made from cod roe and bread crumbs, a kind of Greek caviar. Kleftiko was a lamb stew, cooked slowly in a special oven. Both were incredibly delicious.
“That’s a deal,” I said. “Hey, I saw the prawns that came in this morning. They’re beautiful!”
“My friend goes out in his boat every day and brings them back. The octopus are his too. I’m gonna make bourtheto with octopus and swordfish. It’s the best fish stew in the history of fish stew! When I make my fish stew it’s all gone just like that!” He snapped his fingers in the air.
“The best in the whole world?”
“In the whole world!”
“I can’t wait to taste it!”
“I’ll put some aside for us for later.”
“So. Alexandros? May I ask a personal question?”
“Of course! You are almost my cousin!”
“In your mind, is there a circumstance that excuses infidelity?”