Flying to the sun - a short story

Things would have been so different, had I not fallen in love that hot summer. I would have spent my days boating with my brothers, working in my father’s carpentry business, and chasing girls who would not be caught. Instead, because of a chance meeting at a summer acting workshop, I did catch one. And from that moment on, I wanted nothing and no one, but Eliana.

Papa shook his head at me. “I gave you all the smarts you need, Niko! You could be making good money working for me. But you toss it all away for a girl.”

I smirked. “No, Papa. You gave me wings. You have always told me to make my own decisions.” I waved and was out the door to meet Eliana.

Each day was a scrapbook page. We strolled the streets of Athens, exploring the sights, though we had both lived all of our lives in the city. Eliana loved the open air — the parks, fountains and beaches. She wore blouses that fluttered in the summer breeze and cotton trousers that showed the enticing shape of her legs. I was smitten. But I touched her only the way one touches a friend, afraid of frightening her away.

Photo credit: Pixabay image by Free-Photos

One evening, we walked the cobbled roads of a quaint village near our neighborhood, tickling one another’s sides and laughing.

The butterflies in my stomach that I woke with that day still fluttered and stirred. We had been together since the early morning, when we sat with coffee and pastries in a cafe overlooking the port at Piraeus, with the ships coming and going and seagulls squawking overhead. Then we strolled the market, where we bought oranges, bread and hard cheese for a beach picnic. Finally, we took a cable car ride to Mount Parnitha and hiked up the steep hillside trail where we pretended to be king and queen of the city below. It was the most wonderful day of my life.

On the sleepy ride back in the cable car, Eliana rested her head on my shoulder, and dozed, for it was mesimerianós ýpnos -- siesta time.

Now night was falling. We would be expected home. I could hear her soft breath, even above the sound of our shoes on the cobblestone street. The occasional moped sped by, usually with a couple saddled together and laughing over the tinny zing and whine of the engine. And yet I felt alone with Eliana as if we were in a separate world.

We walked past shops, their bright lights shining invitingly into the street. Cheeses and salamis hung in sumptuous displays in some of the shop windows, while others summoned shoppers with trinkets and candies.

Eliana taunted me. “You are a shy one, Niko!”

I had to kiss her. It was time. I touched her arm and we faced each other. The light from a flower shop shone on her hair.

“Eliana, Eliana. Your name is like ringing bells.” I took her hands and pulled her close. And I kissed her for a long moment, our lips soft against one another’s. Then I laughed, because she tasted of baklava -- sweet syrup and cinnamon -- our last indulgence of the day.

I breathed in the outdoor aroma of her hair, then I let her go. She smiled and touched her mouth, as if to hold in the sensation.

She inched backward. “I cannot see you tomorrow, Niko. It is laundry day. I am helping my mother.”

I swallowed my disappointment, as an exquisite pain seared my stomach, reminding me of the time one of my brothers jabbed me beneath the table with his dinner fork.

I put on a heroic smile. “Of course. I understand. I am also busy tomorrow. I have to be at church early, and then my father needs my help with repairs.” I did not want to mention I worked as a senior altar boy at the Church of Panaghia Kapnikarea. I could see the little church from where we stood, its evening lights creating a holy aura. Was it a sin to hide the truth from my girl?

Image source: Photography by @nubellorona

Eliana turned and walked away. “Kalinychta!” Then she turned down an alleyway lit by festive dangling lights, and was gone.

I thrust my hands into my pockets and turned the other way for home, the luckiest man alive.

As soon as I stepped into the house, I was accosted by my brothers. Alex was the first -- always the leader. Alex worked out, and took every opportunity to display his muscles. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against a door. “Well! If it isn’t lover boy!”

Chris and Theo made kissing noises, annoying as snotty preschool children.

“Let him have his happiness for the moment,” Alex said. He looked at the others with a superior smile. “It won’t last. It is mere puppy love.”

Theo made big sad eyes at me and Chris began to howl like a wounded dog.

I pushed them away. “Stop, mongrels! You don’t know the first thing about it. You don’t know her.” Then I stomped toward the room I shared with Chris. Father looked up from his paper as I passed the door to his study. I said nothing.

I wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction of hearing this, but in just these few weeks with Eliana, I had imagined more than once what it would be like to marry her. They would see. We were in love.

But as I flopped onto my bed, an unsettled feeling wormed its way into my heart. Perhaps Eliana was merely toying with me.

I was up before morning light, restless to face the day without Eliana, which I would endure in a painful, suspended animation, so the next day would come, and I could see her face.

Pigeons cooed and murmured near the balcony where Mother was watering her geraniums. I stepped out to the patio to wish her good morning. Thunderheads gathered above the city, thick and ominous. The air was dense as cotton.

Mother kissed my cheek. “Théleis kafé, love? We have sokoláta croissants.

“No, no,” I said. “Efcharistó. I have no appetite this morning.”

Her knowing look was enough. She too believed I was the victim of a temporary psychotic disorder, that would blow over like the oncoming storm. I snorted and turned away.

I walked to the church with my vestments slung over one arm, entered the sanctuary through the side door and kneeled in prayer. “Forgive me Father. I have sinned. I have had unholy thoughts about a girl.” I repented as well for wanting my brothers to drown in excrement. Then I dressed in my vestments and prepared the altar for mass.

The storm held off. The church was full and so stuffy that Mrs. Petropoulos had to be taken to the infirmary to lie down with a cool cloth on her head. We altar boys opened the doors to let in the moving air.

And that is when I saw her — Eliana — passing by the doors of the church with a boy, laughing and carrying bread. She did not see me standing there, dressed in robes as if for a Christmas pageant.

I had no time to think. Rage and despair replaced reason. I ran into the church, to the surprise of the patrons, and grabbed the incense thurible. It took me only a few moments to chase them down.

Image source: Wikimedia Commons

Aiming carefully, I swung the weapon at my rival, which made a resounding whack on his skull. But he was a stout, solid fellow, and he simply looked at me with stunned eyes. “What the…?”

I had achieved nothing at all. I raised it again for another blow.

“Niko!” Eliana stepped toward me, blocking the impact of the thurible, which made a terrible smack against her cheekbone.

Eliana’s fall to earth seemed to occur in slow motion, yet my rival and I were powerless to catch her. I knelt and took her hand, tears in my eyes. Her cheek was already purple and swelling. Thunder crackled overhead. The storm was about to unleash its deluge upon us.

“I’m so sorry, Eliana. I never meant…. Oh God, I… I love you!”

Eliana touched her swelling cheek. “No, Niko. This is not love.”

My rival kneeled where Eliana had crumpled in wet grass, for the rain was coming down. I quickly removed my outer vestments and used them as a shield over her.

She gestured toward the thug and looked at me. “Niko, please meet my cousin, Mathias.”

I gasped. “Oh no!”

Mathias nodded. Then he dipped his hands beneath her like a gentle shovel and scooped her into his arms. He had not been my rival at all, and yet he had won. And me — desperate to reach great heights — had burned too hot, like Icarus, and fallen.

I watched them walk away down the street, with Eliana curled against Mathias and the gift of my vestment protecting her from the rain.

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Thank you, as always, for reading. This story is my entry in The Writers' Block Art Prompt Writing Contest.

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Posted from my blog with SteemPress : https://jaynalocke.com/2018/08/13/flying-to-the-sun-a-short-story/

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