Cursed Eyes - Καταραμένα Μάτια - [a short story]

There was a moody hunch to his shoulders as we sipped at our cold beers, sitting outside on the patio, despite the cheeky nips of sudden chill breezes against the back of my neck and head. I usually hate sitting in a draft as I then become ill, but I was not tempted to ask we move. Even I could sense this was a ‘moment’, despite my not understanding the why.

The wives sat inside watching television, happy to watch something of their choice while they confided their latest experiences and thoughts. The reflection of the television in the glass drew the eyes of Lefteri and he mystified me by softly telling me, “Time and love have taken me where they willed - and I know not that I am pleased.”

“You are unhappy?”

Nearly seven years it is we have been neighbours and friends, and this is the first time he ever opened up to me, though, the truth is, I think he was mostly speaking to himself - and maybe to Francisca, his wife.

He did not directly reply, continuing with his train of thought. “Those feelings when we meet the soul that dances within our soul, and whose heart is a treasure we will fight the world to hold, whose eyes transport us to spaces exotic to the male mind, what happens when we fight for them, willingly sacrifice - or, are willing to sacrifice everything else that matters to us, so as to lay claim to the right to be a part of them for all eternity, what happens then? How does time rob us of such magnificent dreams without a cry of protest from us?”

I am not one who ponders deep questions when I see no reason or profit to it, but he is a friend, so I tried to find an answer for him. To tell the truth, I was a bit uneasy, for both my wife and I are half in love with these two, for theirs is the closest to a perfect relationship we have ever seen - and I was troubled at the confidence he was sharing, fearing it may sully my dreams of what is possible, or would be, if I were a better man.

“Francisca is a good woman, something rare in the world we find ourselves in at this time. She must have the most loyal heart of any woman and it is her goodness and caring nature that robbed her of the freshness of youth…”

He was staring into my eyes as I spoke, a bad habit of his, as if surprised by the world I have adopted as my own; as if my truths are not part of his. He jerked impatiently, “I do not speak of youth and beauty - good god man, just look at her, she still is all I could ask for; beauty and strength and an honest gaze in her eyes. A woman fit for a powerful king. Do you think I bemoan the changes of time in her? I am not that shallow, nor do I wish my Francisca were any different.” He shook his head. “What I speak of is the lack I see in myself. Old age is slowly stealing my sight, but I shall not regret the loss as keenly as what else I have lost, for it is the years in-between that were the ugliest of thieves, that stole what mattered most, without reason or need, just through my carelessness. They stole the devotion, the strength of my feelings, so that I am but the shadow of what I used to be - of what she deserves me to be for her.” He seemed to give up making himself understood and sitting back, took a sip of beer.

His eyes seemed fixed on the little he could see of Francisca as she talked with animation, which we both knew meant she is talking of their two sons. “Why is it the poets abandon us? Is only the birth of love important to them? And…why do we abandon our dreams, settling for less than is offered us?”

He looked at me. “I have betrayed myself, more than her. I was her dream too and for a time we shared what we are to each other, but then we let life claim tiny parts of ourselves, forgetting that what we were truly doing, was stealing from the other what does not belong to us. Not her so much, for what she took for giving elsewhere was for our sons. I, I let the best of me go without reason.”

He heavily touched my arm. “My friend, we Greeks say, eyes that have seen paradise are cursed, for they forget to look at the treasure of gifts bestowed us by a kindly Fate, especially those we have not earned.” He got up. “Let’s go inside, the beer is talking and I am too old to be sitting outside in this cold night.”

Αλέξανδρος Ζήνον Ευσταθίου

(Alexander Zenon Eustace)

^{1st September, 2018}

• posted on Steemit: 1st September, 2018