One More Night (Part 1)

- This is at least the fifth time you hear this same song in a row…

- Yeah. I know.

- What’s up?

- Nothing…. that really matters.

- Yeah. Right. If you need something, just tell me so. I’m heading to bed.

- OK.

I did not turn around. My mind was too busy contemplating the immense and dark void ahead of my eyes, to an invisible line beyond the horizon, where the ocean met the starry pitch-black firmament.

The night was fresh and quiet and it was quite enjoyable to stay by the shore. It was late and there was almost no noise on the streets of the neighbourhood. A strange silence embraced me with its cold arms, chilling me up and giving me goose bumps. I shivered, but I knew it was not because of the cold.

The song started again. The singer’s strong and pungent voice filled my senses and hit me like an ice stalactite falling from the dark and gloomy ceiling of a cave, into the calm waters of a lagoon, rippling the surface and hitting the deep unscathed darkness.

How many mysteries and secrets can be hidden below that apparently quiet and undefaced surface?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, diving into my own well of thoughts. Each word of that song was serving as a background to a kaleidoscopic sequence of images which brought my past back to the present with a cruel and vivid emotional distinctness.

…” They say that love can move a mountain
    They say love can break your heart 
   They say love can make you forget 
   Things that happened in the past” …  (*)

(*) One more night with you : Ged McMahon featuring Kaz Hawkins

If those words were true, I had never experienced anything that could be close to those emotions… so far…

***

I touched the scar with my fingertips, as if caressing a dear pet.

It is incredible how we get used to wounds left in our bodies and souls and we tend to touch them every time we feel weak, as if it would give us some comfort or lessen the pain or our so protected solitude. It is the same as petting our errors, giving them a more condescending view. It is like trying to protect our hearts from the consequences of our sins, hoping for a chance and opportunity to have our souls saved.

…”So wave goodbye to heaven for me

  I've thrown it all away

 Just to spend one more night with you”…(*)

- Are you still like that?

- Like what?

- You know. I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to try and fool me…

- I know.

My hands swept the piano keys, lightly, perhaps trying instinctively to forget those chords that had kept on hammering my mind for weeks already.

I read somewhere someday that the piano keys denote our feelings. The white represent the good emotions and the black, the pain and the bad sensations. The harmony, however, comes from the balance between them. You cannot make good music without playing both, as life cannot be fully and truly lived without the balance between the good and the bad emotions.

- You should play the song up to the last chord. It’s the best way to exorcize the pain away forever and for good.

I looked at her in awe. She was a very wise young woman. So I played it. Not necessarily to exorcize anything, but to feel the pain as alive as if it were being felt for the first time at that very moment.

I played the beginning of the song as a nocturne, with my fingers gently stroking the white keys and slightly touching the black ones, as if I was caressing my soul and its pain. The music took my body and emotion and my voice, weak at the beginning, became like a cry filled with melancholy, a blues feeling, with all my nerves reacting to the sequence of notes and chords… and words. My eyes and my soul overflowed…

…” They say that love can last forever
    They say love can last a day 
    They say love is like an ocean 
    For us to sail away” … (*)

I was going down to the bottom of the well, to get the impulse and go back to the surface. I needed to go to the bottom of the bottom or else I would never come back with strength enough to overcome the pain.

***

- Was it here?

- Yes.

- Let’s walk down there.

- No, we won’t.

- Yes, we will. Come with me.

She led the way before I could even answer or protest, descending the path from the top of the sea cliff. My stomach ached. I followed in silence. That foot track was not safe and I had to keep close to her just in case, although I knew there was no real reason to worry about.

When we reached the bottom of the trail, the white sandy beach was invitingly tempting, even though it was still early spring. The ocean roared, like a beast trying to threaten us. I did not feel intimidated, though. I was born on the island, so I always faced the sea as a comrade, not a foe. You should respect, but never fear a true old friend.

We walked along the shore for a while, with our feet in the chilly waters and our heads worried only with our own individual thoughts. A group of noisy seagulls were flying over our heads and the wind blew almost fiercely against our faces.

- It was an accident, wasn’t it?

- Yes, it was… an unhappy accident.

- Did you two love each other very much?

I did not think about it.

- We were very good friends, since our school days.

- This is not an answer.

- I know. It’s not.

She looked at me with that ‘questioning the truth’ look knowing that there was no truth to be revealed anymore.

- Then why did you two decide to have a child, after all?

- Because she wanted it. It was the best decision to have a child from that respectful relationship we had, than waiting for a love that would never come. She was a very practical woman. She knew we would love and respect the child above it all.

- And you never regretted that decision?

- Of course not! Why would we?

- Don’t know… there was no love…

- It was a very wise decision, based on true respect and care. She was afraid of getting old and never being able to become a mother. She wanted it so dearly. You know what women are like…

- Haha… Yeah, right!

We laughed out loud. My pale smile could not hide the awkwardness of having to tell her the same thing for the millionth time.

- Do you think you two were happy?

- Perhaps, before the…

- It’s odd…

- What?

- Your relationship. The illness. The accident.

- It’s not odd. The accident was caused by the disease.

- But you too could have died.

- I don’t think so. I fell down when I tried to help her… I was so clumsy…

- The scar is big.

- The pain is bigger!

She shut it up. The sea seemed to explode against the rocks. She walked away in silence for a while, then she turned around to face me. She squinted her eyes as if trying to see better something that was behind me. For a moment I felt a shadow crossing her face.

- Dad?

- What?

- Is that him on top of the cliff?

- Uh? What the hell is he doing up there?

***

The Thirteenth (Part 3)

It was not too late at night, in the suburbs. The silhouettes of two people, with very dissimilar looks, moved among the shadows, among the narrow streets and the dark alleys. Some people were still walking outside, others were chatting happily in the pubs and restaurants. It was quite a pleasant and fresh autumn night, fresh but not chilly at all. To the stronger man, that temperature was ideal, but his companion was uncomfortable, feeling his pale and fragile body tremble with cold.

- Let's go that way. We are not far by now. I just hope I don’t give the old man too much of a fright.

The other man looked at him, not quite realizing what that really meant and continued to follow the strong man, first behind a large house, which covered a whole block, in the farthest part of the village, then through a children’s playground at a small park and then they finally crossed a large patio that led them into a dense group of large trees.

When they started walking through the woods, they hit some branches of the Swan Milkweed that were hanging on their way and that had a surprising effect on some of the forest's temporary residents. A rustle of movement and color impressed the clone, but irritated the man who led him down those dark paths in the cool autumn night.

- Oh! What are these?

- They're butterflies. Monarchs, more specifically...

- How interesting... They are so...

Words failed him. He could not, with such a short life, say what he felt about beauty, one of the few things that really impressed him.

- ...annoying when they fly around us. We should avoid these swift moves because anything we do can raise suspicion and put us in danger. We have to keep our presence as discreet as possible.

The clone looked at the man, who was annoyed with such beauty and did not understand why he did not enjoy that unusual moment. The man pulled him by the arm, whispering, irritated.

- Let's go! Every minute we waste is too precious and we'll miss them eventually. You'll know more about the Monarchs, if you ever have the time... Now, let’s move on!

They finally arrived at the entrance of a tunnel, hidden in the basement of a building. From there, after passing through a series of other passageways, tangled in a rather intricate network, they finally got into a small old shed, built in the backyard of an ordinary house.

From there, they noticed there were lights on in the house, showing evidence that someone was still up. They were careful to stay hid in the shadows until they were absolutely sure no one could see them. The silence was proof enough that there was no danger. The two of them stepped up to the door. The stronger man knocked on the door with his knuckles. He then stopped for a short while and knocked again twice. That was the code he reminded. At the sound of footsteps coming from the inside, he felt a strange apprehension.

A middle-aged man opened the door, but his expression soon changed from a smile to a mix of worry and fear. What those two strangers were doing there at his door, using the code only known by his son and daughter, was unknown to him, but he felt they were no good news. The strongest man reminded him of someone he knew, but he could not recall who that could be.

- What can I do for you?

The man kept the door half open, trying to control the situation. He sensed that he was at a disadvantage, but he had to try and intimidate the visitors, who still stood somewhat in the shadow of the night.

- Can we come inside? It is important.

- No. You cannot, without telling me who you are and what you want.

 The younger man stepped forward, while the older man grabbed the door firmly, trying to close it, before he lost control, but his strength did not match that of the other one.

- Father?

The man's eyes widened. That was unexpected. He was absolutely sure he had no children that age. The younger man's eyes, however, when they were struck by the light from within the house, were as green as his son's, but he immediately refuted that common characteristic.

- My son is a lot younger than you and I'm pretty sure I've never had another one. I do not know who you are or what you want, but you will not get anything from me.

- I know it sounds unbelievable, but I can explain... Let us in, please. We are all in danger.

The older man’s face changed immediately to a very serious and hard expression. The younger man then tried his last attempt.

- I’m not trying to fool you. Look at this! Do you believe me now?

The man pulled the door open, carefully, so as to let the two visitors in. Until then, he'd hardly noticed the features of the little man, which he now watched, attentively. He was extremely pale, young and almost hairless. His head seemed to be disproportionately larger than those with whom he used to be. Her skin looked very thin. The green eyes also reminded him of someone, but he did not catch it at first. He was now busy examining that strange being whose anomaly he had already seen before in his own son.

- How could this be possible?

- We believe the answer is here at this time. That's why we need your help.

The three of them turned their attention to a spot in the shadows, behind the old man, from which the female voice was coming.

- Leona? What happened to you? You're so different...

- We are all, Father, but…

- You shouldn’t have come.

- And let you trigger a catastrophe? This untimely behavior of yours has already put us in a very big trouble... We have to interfere as little as possible with this time and place. Everything we do here, will surely have consequences in that world.

- What world? Can anyone explain this whole mess to me?

Before her brother began telling improper truths, Leona went forward. She would be more careful with the words and say only what would not change… much… the course of the events, but their father had to know what happened... or was going to happen... as a matter of fact… so he could help them.

The scientist listened quietly but not without showing how impressed he was. He would never imagine how important his research would become in the future. In his modesty and simplicity, behind all intelligence and brightness, he did not foresee that his work would bring so much benefit to mankind... or at least to a portion of it...

***

- Father, the chief scientist, who is a very experienced and competent man, could not find out what caused that anomaly in the clone. The concern is that it is serious and that will put a good part of those who are born at risk, as if it were an epidemic, difficult to control. Some element in the vaccine might have stopped working, or there was some mutation of a sort.

- I brought a sample of the new vaccine, which is under test, to be analyzed by you. How did you reverse the effect when it happened to me? There is no record about this in the known data.

- I know. I never left any of it written in the official records. I only made a few notes in my diary, which I kept out of sight for everyone. But I know what to do... I dealt with it not so long ago. But we're must first go to the University's laboratory, do some more tests. We have already eliminated the... err... I do not know if it will result in a clone, whose DNA may have already undergone many mutations, nor do I know what kind of reactions can still happen, but it’s worth a try.

Before they left, however, the man looked at the three visitors and, frowning, asked, with childlike ingenuity.

- What are clones for, anyway?

The three of them looked at the old scientist, as if he had said an obscenity. Leona laughed tenderly and said to him,

- I’ll try to explain on the way...

***

- What is it? It's so nice...

- It’s music. Let's go.

- Where is it coming from?

- Come on! Quickly! We do not have time for this.

The father, much more patient than his son, tried to explain, in a more or less coherent way:

- Music is the language though which the souls of men talk to those of the gods. It is capable to touch the most intangible living being. There are many different types and styles. This one that you hear is by a famous artist, who no longer walks on this Earth.

- No? Where does he walk on, now?

- He’s dead. His name was David Bowie. The music comes from the club bar ahead, but we should avoid going there. We cannot raise any suspicion and it’s too late in the evening already...

- By the way, we have to find a name for you. If someone stops us, for some reason, it will be the most convenient... and appropriate way. We should not take unnecessary risks.

- I am the Thirteenth.

- Yes. But that's not a decent name for this place. We have to choose another one; more common and suitable...

- Could it be David Bowie?

Leona chuckled loudly.

- It can be David. Forget the Bowie. It will raise more suspicion if it is used here.

***

The university campus was practically deserted when they arrived. There was a white van at the entrance, parked near the research area, where the lab was located. The letters N. M. E., painted in red, on the sides, did not raise suspicions, when the four characters descended the flight of stairs, which took them to their destination. As soon as the scientist took the key out of his pocket and turned the lock in the narrow metal door, a hiss was heard and a deep mark was engraved above his head, in the light gray hard metal. They threw themselves in, closing the door behind them so to gain some time and rushed to the Main Lab.

- Who are these? We are being attacked by fire guns. We have to get away and try to get back to the terminal. Let's all go. Run!

As they entered the lab, they dragged a large cabinet and blocked the door.

- We must use the emergency exit that is located at the opposite end of the laboratory. I'll show you the way. Now, hurry and keep on walking to the end of the hall and go through the door where it’s written "To the roof" and, instead of going up, go behind the stairs. There is another door there, at the bottom of the broom and cleaning cabinet, painted the same color as the walls, to make it difficult to find. I’ll have to go back and get my notes.

At that moment, they heard a loud blast. The front door had been broken into with explosives. The sounds of footsteps running down the hall, very close to them, made them panic and imagine a hurried escape plan.

- There is no time to go back. We have to get out of here as soon as possible. They are already coming after us...

- But it's extremely important... it's right in the desk drawer...

The younger man knew his father was right. It was extremely important to seek the information, to fulfill the purpose of that time travel or else it would have been useless. Without thinking much, he decided:

- I’ll go back. I'm faster and stronger. I can defend myself better, and besides, when we get back to the terminal, we will not be able all four to travel at the same time. The programming will be done for three, only...

- We can reprogram it.

- If we have time... Let’s hurry. I’ll come back. Don’t wait for me. Don’t worry, I'll find a way. If the portal is not open anymore, I’ll wait for a signal.

- We'll send one, as soon as we get there, programming the terminal for a passenger, only, so it closes as soon as you get in and we bring no more danger along with us to the future.

- OK. Now, let's move on. Time is short.

Leona felt a sting in her chest. Things had gotten out of hand. The whole operation had been too risky, and now they were struggling to stay alive. She had the lead and show the way, but they had to be fast and unsuspecting, until they reached the terminal.

Then they heard a series of gun shots. What an efficient and dangerous way to rush things...

Birds In Love

- I think I have fallen in love.

- Seriously?

She blushed. To me, she was still that little girl I saw growing up, who used to run fearless through the house and used to sing the lyrics of songs invented by herself, each time in a different way and that left us astonished and giggling, before her early cleverness...

- Very seriously!

- Is he good for you? Does he respect you and make you feel good?

She looked at me thoughtfully, hesitated for a millisecond and answered.

- Yes.

- So I can only support you, of course, my love.

She smiled and hugged me, whispering a 'thank you' to my ear, as if my support would make a difference in how she felt or to what she wanted. It certainly lightened a huge emotional burden with my approval but could not change her feelings.

She kissed my cheek and ran out of the door, to 'dunno-where'...

I watched the way she looked radiant. She was almost floating with such happiness. Before leaving the gate, she still turned around and waved me a funny goodbye with a huge grin on her youthful face. I smiled and waved back at her, noticing finally that she had fully grown and blossomed. Youth is such a wonderful stage of life.

I watched the empty gate after she disappeared in the distance and thought about my own life.

Behind me, the words of a known song playing, seemed to poke my heart with a certain almost intentional cruelty. My memories were always so associated with music and many meaningful songs, I could hardly control my emotions, every time I heard something that had somehow marked my life.

... I wish you, I wish you, I wish you all the best

    I'll miss you, I'll miss you, I'll miss you not the least ... *

***

- Dad?

- Yes, my love...

- Who was the greatest love of your life?

The question caught me off guard. I played with the answer, to gain some time.

- It was Ginger.

She laughed.

- I should have waited for that answer, but I mean it. Ginger was undoubtedly a great love, but I was talking about a person, not the cat.

- Ginger was more than a cat. He was a great companion, my love...

- Dad?

I smiled. I knew she was not going to give up without receiving an acceptable response. Her eyes seemed like two big balls of dark glass. I pretended I did not notice...

- Yes, my love.

- Who was it? I mean it!

- I do not know if there was the 'greatest love' of my life...

- Oh! Really? And mom?

I looked at the serious face of my little girl and I answered truthfully.

- She was truly a great passion and she gave me you, who are my greatest gift of life. It is true that I had many other passions, but to be the greatest love, it cannot be a one-sided thing, is not it?

- Not necessarily. If that made you feel loved; if it was intense; if it made you dream and feel special and somehow a better person... If that brought out the best of you...

- So much wisdom in such a young creature...

She laughed awkwardly, with her cheeks blushing slightly. I recognized that time had transformed that little girl into a young and wise woman and I thanked heaven for that. She was radiant and her happiness made her shine and had some grip on me too.

But she was right. Who else could make us happy, but ourselves, even for a few moments? Is this not the true meaning of love - to make us spring and bloom from the inside out?

I had learned, however, that neither the small nor the great love survives the distance or the lack of reciprocity or even worse, the lies. Sooner or later these things come up to the surface and destroy the good things the feelings used to keep in ourselves. The masks fall off, the truth appear, the time and distance cool down our links and the affections fade to the point where the thread of tenderness finally breaks forever and what was everything turns into only a destroyed illusion and a sad and harsh reality of broken expectations...

Even worse is when that love turns into hatred or contempt or other feeling as bad as these. Instead of being happy for what was good, we feel bad about what no longer exists.

  

How could I tell her that my heart had many very intense passions, but I could never reveal they have ever existed? For all practical purposes, those were just ‘affairs' that never happened. For all practical purposes, they were passions that only mattered to me and no one else... unilaterally. That sad but that true...

- Well, I think this is the greatest love of my life.

- I'm glad for you, my love. I'm sure it can only do you good. It seems like you've seen a blue bird!

- It's green, dad! Green Birdie!

I laughed. She laughed too. That was a little joke we were used to. A 'private joke' only ours.

- My little love, never let people, who do not know your history, interfere in your love life. Your life is only of interest to you and no one else...

- I know, Dad.

- And be careful not to hurt yourself. The heart sees through glasses that reason does not wear.

Even knowing better than anyone that a person in love does not listen to advices like those, as consistent as they may be, I could not help but give them.

I knew that what mattered most was the voice of the heart and the way we live intensely...

"May it be eternal while it lasts," as the poet used to say...

And how would I know if she was right or not in defining that as "the" love of her life, if I was not living what she was? In the end, I just wanted her to be happy.

***

- Are you nervous?

- No! You?

- A little worried.

- I understand. But don’t worry. No one will notice if something goes out of your plans. Everything is part of the process.

She seemed to absorb those words with confidence. Whatever happen would not ruin the brightness of that day. Only the closest people were present and there was no reason for worries. Her simplicity and charisma were enough to make her shine, but she was less aware of that than I was.

- Go there. Now it's just a matter of facing it and go ahead!

She was, so to speak, marking her birthday with a very important and courageous decision.

When she returned, dressed as if for the most memorable occasion of her life, until then, she looked stunning and nervous at the same time. She had sparkles in her eyes that left no doubt about the purpose of that decision.

At her side, the love of her life smiled, fingers entwined in hers, as happy and gorgeous as my little girl.

The two formed an exceptionally smooth and beautiful couple, that was, at the same time, strong and fearless, like two brave amazons.

I smiled and opened my arms and the two girls fell into my fatherly embrace. At the foot of their ears I said quietly:

- You are two warrior goddesses! Be very, very happy!

The two lovers embraced me and kissed my cheeks. They were blessed.

What would come forward from there, were battles for the two to face together...

* (Benjamin Clementine's "The Movies Never Lie")

A Small Blue Bottle (Part 2 of 2: Ένα μικρό μπλε μπουκάλι (Éna mikró ble boukáli))

I was amazed at how much my daughter had blossomed like a rare flower over a year’s time. She was a smart kid and her beauty was admired by everyone, to my own pride. Although she was already a young woman, to me she was still that little girl who dreamed of dragons… and she meant everything to me.

We had agreed that we would come back to that same place at the beginning of the following summer. She talked about the trip almost every day of the few weeks before our departure date, always full of detailed plans... and they were not just a few.

It was not yet noon when we reached the beach. As expected, she ran barefoot towards the sea, kicking the salty and fresh water. She was back to being my little girl, who had a huge fascination with the sea. I followed her, slowly, for I had no desire to run. On the shore, what I really liked was walking very slowly. I lost sight of her when she won the curve of the bay, but I knew where she was heading to. Before long I spotted the familiar silhouette, moving slowly ahead of me. I wondered why she was walking so slowly, but I soon realized the reason.

There was a young man sitting on a log on the beach. His eyes were as blue as the sky that opened above our heads and he was staring, very seriously, at a point beyond the horizon. His black straight hair was misaligned by the wind. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his old jeans were wet up to the knees. The man, who had surely past his twenties, but was far from his thirty years of age, noticed our approaching, but did not move. My daughter clenched my hand when she realized that he was holding a small blue bottle in his left hand.

***

- Late last summer, I found it on the other side of the bay. I was hoping to find the owner, but did not know how to. I decided I should throw it back to the sea, where it belonged, anyway. I was sorry, but had no right to keep it with me. Maybe another one would be luckier than me somehow. But the poem was so beautiful, I hesitated...

- Poem?

- Yes.

I noticed the young woman’s cheeks blush as she looked away. I knew her quite well. That kind of reaction could only mean one thing. He could not disguise satisfactorily the interest he felt for her either. The conversation went on easily as if we were long-time acquaintances. We were sitting on the terrace of a small restaurant facing the sea and not far from our kitchenette, relaxing and sipping some drinks, while waiting for the food to be served. On the corner of the table, a blue bottle with an old piece of paper, rolled up inside, was the witness of that unpretentious encounter. I had invited him to have lunch with us, something I would never do if we were in a big city. There, in that small town, however, where everyone seemed to know each other, I believed that should be the most polite and harmless thing to do.

- I came back here after my University graduation. My father, a widower and old aged man, needed help and I decided to settle down around here for now, working in an office on the island. One day I will have my own, but I need experience and money to invest... This week-end we will have a Greek festival. The community maintains certain traditions. It will be fun – to say the least. You should come.

My daughter looked at me, smiling. It was evident that she had already made her decision. I smiled back. I winked and she smiled broadly. A Greek event... I thought of people dancing in the streets, broken dishes, good wine and lots of seafood...

- We will come.

He smiled in approval. She was radiant.

***

Songs by Nikos Vertis and Nikos Oikonomopoulos, Antonis Remos, Vasilis Karras, Paola, Giorgos Mazonakis, Pantelis Pantelidis, Melisses and many other Modern Greek singers played the night away in the main square speakers. The restaurants were open and the tables were placed outside. People were dressed in white and danced in the streets, which were closed to traffic. When they put Natasa Theodoridou’s most poignant song to play, the young man took my girl by the hand and asked her to dance right there in the middle of the street. Other couples did the same. I remembered that her mom loved that song.

"Να 'Σουν Θάλασσα, να μην σ'άλλαζα" (Na soun Thálassa, na min s' állaza) ... 'If you were the ocean, I would never change you'... said the singer, in a duet with Sarbel, with his deep voice and in perfect contrast with hers.

I felt a huge nostalgia and my eyes flooded with tears, remembering the last time we danced, exactly to that same song. I swallowed hard, trying to untie that knot that tightened my throat, but I could not. I sat down at an empty table, with my thoughts floating far away from there.

- They make such a beautiful couple...

I turned around to see who had spoken. A woman a little beyond her middle age, owner of one of the taverns attending the festival, was staring, dreamily, at the couples dancing in the street. Her attention was more focused on the young black haired man with tanned skin who was dancing with the pale faced brown-haired girl with the expressive green eyes.

- It is true...

I could have felt some sort of jealousy or any protective instinct, but it was not what was happening in my head at that moment. I looked at them and saw other people, from a nearly recent past. I was not delusional. It was like a strange haze that mingled nostalgia, memories, dreams and real life. In my view, she seemed to change into her mother, dancing with a man I knew very well... and he was not the same one I was watching at that moment. I had changed... and quite a lot... Basically, I was afraid that history somehow repeated itself...

In the Sirtaki, both the slow (argo) and the fast (grígoro) forms of the hassápiko are danced. The hassápiko is one of the best-known popular demonstrations in street festivals. At both ends of the long line of dancers, as they do not form a closed circle, the coryphées spin handkerchiefs in their free hands. According to the tradition, it is important not to let a hand be free, so to avoid it to be clasped by some tricky demon.

Typically, a large cluster is formed at the hottest hour of the evening, when the first chords of the Sirtaki of Zorba are heard, exactly as it was happening at that moment.

A young man with very light hair popped up from nowhere and pulled my daughter by the hand, followed by a stream of other hands, which began to form a long line of dancers in the middle of the avenue. Another string of people holding one another’s arms side by side was formed opposite to the first one. Our friend was at the end of that, but as he was a little distracted and let the handkerchief be taken by someone else, an older man hastened to take his place and the party continued as if nothing had happened. Our young friend frowned at first, but soon returned to his normal, once he was closer to the place where my girl was dancing and he apparently forgot what happened few seconds before. The crowd was rehearsing the steps popularized by Anthony Quinn, in the famous movie released in 1964. In a short time, everyone had followed perfectly, the traditional sequence, as a large group of ballet artists. Although for some of them it was the first time, for others it was another... and it was fun for both...

- Give food, drink and music to the Greeks and they will dance, happily, all night long.

- I see that is very true...

I agreed with the lady, who was still watching the crowd playing, with her eyes slightly distant, as if full of nostalgia. I wondered how much history would be hiding behind that tired and nostalgic look...

When the dance was over, my daughter dashed to meet me, panting and laughing, with her cheeks as rosy as a child’s. It was evident that she was enjoying herself so much. She sat down beside me and put her arm in mine, leaning her head on my shoulder. I rested mine over hers as we watched people passing by. Shortly after we saw the young man coming closer with two glasses of some drink in his hands. He sat down and offered one to the girl, who accepted, smiling. He also had his cheeks flushed by the heat and the dance.

- Let’s go to the Zorbás. There is live music and it is less hectic than the streets.

I was not too excited to be in a closed place, but given that my daughter was so excited to agree, I decided to join them. The Zorbás was located in one of the streets outside the hubbub of the festivity and, therefore, less crowded. I thought that would give us a momentary bit of peace. When we got in, however, the place was packed with people laughing and drinking. Some were dancing merrily, but most were only drinking and talking. There was a group on stage, playing modern music. I glanced around us trying to capture the details of the place. The décor was simple but quite interesting. Small framed pictures of landscapes and typical Greek themes hung upon the bare stone walls. Despite the low light, some strategic points over the tables and the bar, as well as on the stage, could be seen clearly enough. We were standing in the middle of the room, watching people moving about, dancing and drinking. The young man excused himself and left us. I assumed he had gone to fetch some other drink.

To my surprise, however, he, instead, sat on a tall stool in the centre of the stage and started to sing the first few bars of Thelo na me niosis. The song, originally played by Nikos Vertis, was being very well interpreted by our newest friend. I did not expect him to be so in tune and to have such a clear voice. The other musicians seemed to know him well by the way they treated him. He could not take his eyes off my daughter, while singing, as if doing it only for her.

- Να 'ξερες τα βράδια πως μισώ

Που με τιμωρούν που σε 'χω χάσει

Θέλω να σε δω το ομολογώ

Άλλη τέτοια νύχτα ας μη περάσει

*(Na 'xeres ta vrádia po̱s misó̱

Pou me timo̱roún pou se 'cho̱ chásei

Thélo̱ na se do̱ to omologó̱

Álli̱ tétoia nýchta as mi̱ perásei)*

- Do you know the meaning of those verses?

- Not really. It seems to be a very sad song, but nonetheless very beautiful and touching...

- It's a love song, stating the agony two lovers feel when they leave each other, especially when the night comes. You are right. It's romantic and sad at the same time.

- Yeah...

***

* If you knew how I hate the night

  Because I am punished for losing you

  I admit I want to see you

  And I do not want to spend another night like this...

***

Apparently she had all her attention directed to the singer and smiled, blushing lightly. I had the impression that my vacation that summer would be in some ways more solitary that it had been in years. I realized that I was not really worried when that thought formed in my mind. When the performance ended, he joined us again, smiling. My girl greeted him with a hug and, consequently, with a tender kiss. I saw that I was being one too much into that scene and decided it was my time to leave. She looked radiant and, strange as it may seem, it made me happy. I apologized and left. At the exit door, I bumped into a guy with very fair hair, who rushed in visibly drunk.

***

A few hours later, I woke up in the middle of the night, totally confused by the sounds of sirens and people outcry, outside the condominium where the kitchenette was. I only realized what was happening when my daughter came in, sobbing and with her blouse covered by a large stain of blood. I panicked immediately, but she was not hurt. The blood wasn't hers.

A policeman, who brought her in, told me what had happened, since the girl seemed to be in a complete state of shock. A young man with very light hair and visibly drunk entered the Zorbás and tried to pull the girl to dance, but she had refused, being defended by her partner at that moment. The other did not take rejection well and tried to fight with our friend, who punched him and left, before causing a worse damage. At the door, he called the security guards to take control of the situation, while the other man screamed for revenge.

When they were coming back home some hours later, the blond boy, who had followed them, unseen, pulled a knife and stabbed the back of my son-in-law to be, a couple of times. He ran away when my daughter cried, desperately, for help. The wounds were so deep, he could not resist until the arrival of the ambulance and died on the spot, with his lungs pierced by the long and sharp blade. It was all very quick. A real tragedy, on a day that was so special for the young couple. We were all absolutely horrified and disgusted.

***

- Why, Dad? Why can life be so cruel?

- I don’t know, my sweetie...I don't really know...

We both cried like two children, holding each other and getting comfort for the happenings both in the recent and the distant past. The story, which had repeated itself, had the malice of demons who take our hands when the handkerchiefs inadvertently are dropped off of them.

***

We avoided coming back to that place for more than three years after the tragic accident. At her insistence, however, we decided to go back there in the early summer of the fourth year.

As soon as I stopped the car on the beach, already known to us, the dark haired little boy, who had fair skin and eyes as blue as the sky that opened above our heads, leaped off impatiently, running barefoot on the beach, like the son of a fisherman. He was about three years old and it was his first contact with the sea. Upon reaching the edge of the water, he stopped, stepped a little backwards, turned around, looked at us and then ran towards the waves breaking nearby. He laughed happily while jumping over the waves, soaking his whole outfit without any concerns. His mother smiled, completely amused, in spite of the sad look in her eyes.

- That is definitely my son...

- Without a doubt. My grandson has a very strong affinity with the great dragon...

She smiled, but I realized that a stubborn tear slipped down her cheek, from the corner of her eye.

The boy ran around the edge of the water and disappeared in the curve of the bay. Minutes later, he came back bringing a blue bottle in one hand and an old parchment, tied with a red line, in the other. He said he had found the bottle on the beach, half buried in the sand, near a fallen log. The manuscript contained a little poem handwritten in a calligraphy we both knew very well.

"When you see me,

You will know who I am,

Just by the way I look at you.
If you hesitate
To approach me,
Think I have waited
Too long
For this meeting
And I can wait no longer
Anymore...
If you embrace me,
Make it entirely,
As if our bodies

Were just one.

And when you kiss me,
Then,

Do it as if it is a last one,
Even if it is the first,
For the first,
May well be,
Also,
The very last one. "