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CHAPTER – 43: A Night on the Town (1)
Initially, they wanted to go to one of the nearby shopping centers, but I suggested the town center, because I missed the colorful and unique ambience of the district. It was the center of the bohemian art scene, and for centuries, it had been the center of nightlife. There were many lively bars and clubs on the main street as well as on the side streets. Also, it was one of the focal points of the city’s center for shopping, entertainment and urban promenading; always full of people and tourists. The main street, recently pedestrianized, was lined with fashion shops, bookshops, cinemas, markets, restaurants and even hand-carts selling trinkets and other stuff, thus it was packed throughout the day until late into the night any day of the week. The old tramcars had re-entered into service, shuttling up and down the street, capturing the atmosphere of the early years with which my parents were very familiar, and allowed us, the younger generation, a taste of how it had been then. Since it was Sunday, I expected more shops would be open compared to any other district, and if we wanted to have a bite, the choices were limitless, from a simple fast-food stand, to small eateries that served local delicacies, to 5-star restaurants and anything in between.
After a short discussion, both girls agreed on the plan. Dana suggested we should drive part of the way and leave her car at one of the car parks, then take a taxi, instead of dealing with the mad traffic, and received a grateful smile from me. I hated the congested mid-town traffic, and I was going to do the same if we took my car. The girls changed into tight jeans, wool sweaters, and grabbed light coats. I put on jeans and a wool button down shirt and took my windbreaker.
An hour later, we were walking down the main street, window-shopping. Sarah showed an interest in one of the lingerie shops, and the girls decided to take a look inside. I suggested one of the fashionable shops a block away, because I knew the service and quality would be much better, but they didn’t listen. However, it didn’t take them more than ten minutes before they gave up, and I didn’t even have to say ‘I told you so!’ Of course, both knew what I was thinking, and Sarah said, “I don’t want something too expensive.”
“Look, the shop I have in mind has some very good stuff, and it’s worth every penny. And I want both of you to enjoy it as much as I would, OK?”
After exchanging a look with Dana, she nodded. That was the end of the discussion, and we walked to the other shop I mentioned. When we entered someone who looked like the manager of the place looked us over quickly, but didn’t say anything. From the casual way we dressed, he figured we were probably window-shopping and not real customers. Well, it was time to change his mind and adjust his attitude.
“Excuse me. Can you perhaps help us? The ladies are interested in some lingerie?” I addressed him politely, but my tone left no doubt I wanted service and right now. My body language was also that of someone who was used to getting prompt service and attention. While I may be shy, especially around the girls, that was the extent of my shyness; I usually command respect.
His eyebrow arched minutely, as he gave an appraising look, before he responded with a polite smile, and said, “Of course, Sir. Right this way. On the second floor. I’ll ring up one of the clerks to help you out.”
I guess he figured us for ‘richies’ who were slumming, by the way we were dressed for a Sunday shopping. He must have seen some of those to know that looks could be deceiving, even though their usual clientele were normally dressed in slacks and not in jeans. I led the girls to the second floor, and a young sales girl met us, asking Dana and Sarah what they were looking for. After a short discussion, the girl showed us their selections. I followed them a step behind, listening in, and when Sarah and Dana made their choices, the sales girl directed them to small change rooms, to try on their selections. The section seemed empty save for us. She offered me coffee while I waited for the girls, so I took a seat and waited patiently.
Several minutes later, both of them came out wearing some very interesting bras and panties. If I had been sipping my coffee at the time, I would have had an accident. Sarah was wearing a smoke colored bra and panty set, with material so thin I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming there was any material. Dana had opted for a similar material but in pale blue. I knew if I stared any longer I would turn into a tripod, and wouldn’t need crutches to walk if I broke a leg.
Damn, but they look good!
Hastily I took a sip from my coffee to wet my suddenly dry mouth, before putting the cup on a small table and stood up. I managed a smile, but didn’t trust my voice to state an opinion. The girls recognized immediately the effect they had had on me.
“I don’t think he liked our choices,” Dana said to Sarah, who nodded trying to put a hurt expression on her face.
You witches! You both know how good you look in those.
Pulling myself together, I gave an appraising look, and then shrugged as if I weren’t very much impressed with the fantastic display.
“Maybe he’s too far away,” Sarah suggested picking up my game plan, and both girls took several steps closer to me, and slowly turned modeling the pieces.
“OK! OK! I surrender.” I gave up hastily, before things got too far.
Moving closer, Dana said, “You have a choice. Either we tease you now, or you’ll be punished later?”
“Have a heart, Dana,” I said softly. “Unless you want to kill me.”
“Later it is,” she announced with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“Please?” I whined.
“You should have thought about it when you did what you did, Mitch. Sorry, but we’ll make it pleasant. It’s not going to hurt,” she retorted.
In the meantime, Sarah had also closed in on us, and was listening to our discussion. With a giggle, she concurred with Dana and added, “Not too much.”
“Can you at least wait until Monday, so I can draw up a will?” I retorted.
“You won’t need a will. Do you remember what you said a few nights ago at Kathy’s? About taking Sarah and me shopping? Be careful about what you wish for, it might just come true,” Dana said.
“All right! My mistake! But you know... I wouldn’t change it even if I could.”
“Yes, I know, handsome. Don’t be scared. We’ll have some good fun,” Dana replied. Turning to Sarah, she asked, “Do we need anything else here?”
Sarah thought about it, and then whispered something to Dana, getting a nod. After more quiet discussion, Dana turned to me, and asked, “What do you prefer? Pantyhose, garter belts, leg-hold-ups?”
“Definitely leg-hold-ups,” I replied quickly, getting a smile. They were trendy, and I really liked the look when Sarah was wearing them before.
“I think he has good taste,” Dana quipped to Sarah, and they turned to the sales girl, asking.
“Leg-hold-ups? Oh, you mean thigh-hi stockings? Yes, we do have some,” I heard her reply, and she steered them to one of the shelves.
Ten minutes later they were back, wearing the thigh-hi stockings. Sarah had opted for a smoke colored and embroidered one to go with her panty–bra set and the dress she was planning to wear tonight. She looked quite spectacular. The top was lace, and dark gray, almost black. Dana had chosen a slightly darker tone, which drew attention to her smooth, long legs. When I asked about the color, she said she was going to wear a black dress tonight.
The sales girl packed our purchases, and I paid. We thanked her for the help, receiving a polite smile. After we left the shop, Dana said, “I think I enjoyed our first shopping adventure more.”
“Why?” I asked, surprised at her comment.
“The sales girl was friendlier. This one didn’t even glance at the sizable lump you had,” she retorted.
Laughing, I said, “She was probably being polite. Not everybody is a flirt.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she said, “I guess.”
“I’m already in it up to my neck, and you want more help?” I quipped.
Caressing my cheek, she nodded, teasing me. Shaking my head, I asked them what else they wanted to buy. They didn’t have anything specific in mind, but wanted to have a look at some blouses. We visited several shops, and Sarah ended up buying a wool shirt and Dana a silk blouse, and then they pulled me into a Men’s store and bought me a silk tie for my suit, and a light blue Oxford shirt. All in all, we had a good time, and then spent a few minutes discussing what we wanted to eat. We weren’t hungry enough to eat lunch yet, but wanted coffee and something on the side. Looking around I realized we were very close to one of the patisseries—especially known for its French style sweets—that I knew from my childhood. I asked if they would like to have a good cup of coffee, and something with chocolate. That piqued their interest, so I told them I had a treat for them, something special, and steered them to the patisserie. On the way, I saw the office of one of the coach services, and reminded Sarah about her return trip arrangements. We made a stop there, and she bought a ticket for late Monday night bus, before continuing on to the patisserie.
The girls took a seat by the window, with a view of the main street and the Sunday shoppers, and I went to the counter to order coffee and profiterole with extra chocolate topping. About ten minutes later, a girl served our order. The chocolate sauce was thick and warm, and the pastry was fresh out of the oven with buttery cream filling. As I took a bite, the whole thing melted on my tongue without chewing it. I watched Dana and Sarah as they took their first bite, and their faces lit up in pure delight.
“Is this...” Dana started, before she picked the menu card on the table, and checked the name of the patisserie. “Of course. I should have guessed,” she said almost talking to herself. Turning to me she asked, “How did you know about this place?”
“I’ve spent many summers with my grandparents, just couple of blocks away from here. Dad and Mom used to stop here for ice cream when they took their afternoon walks, but when I discovered their profiterole, ice cream took second place.”
“I can imagine. They’re famous for it, especially the chocolate sauce they make,” Dana concurred.
“Am I forgiven?” I asked, with a teasing smile, being opportunistic about the situation.
Turning to Sarah, Dana asked, “Should we forgive him?”
“I think we can take it easy on him. He’s just being a big sissy about the whole thing.”
“Yes, he is. But you know how men are, especially when they get sick or have a headache or other ailments? They turn into babies!” Dana retorted.
I knew they were both teasing and goading me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to rise to the bait. “Nine tenths of bravery is knowing when to run away,” I quipped, getting a laugh for my efforts.
We spent almost an hour there, enjoying another cup of coffee and I had a second helping of the delicious profiterole. Dana asked what kind of restaurant we wanted to go to. I was in the mood for some seafood, but I wasn’t sure what Dana and Sarah would like to have. When I made the suggestion, they were agreeable, so I mentioned a particular restaurant.
“You know, they have uncomfortable wooden chairs, and you both are going to be dressed up, so if you prefer another place, that’s all right,” I said to Dana.
“I know, but the food is delicious and the view is great. At least, they put pillows on the chairs,” Dana replied.
“Really? It’s been a long time for me. They never did that. Has it changed much?”
“No, it’s the same decor, same atmosphere, and the same food,” she replied.
“What kind of place is it?” Sarah asked.
“It’s an old restaurant, very small, run by a couple. Greek, I think,” Dana said.
“Armenian,” I corrected.
“Armenian?” Dana asked, and I nodded. Then she continued. “The tables are made from old wooden wine barrels, and as Mitch said, the chairs are very uncomfortable. While it looks like a fishermen’s eatery, it’s very nice. Has a great view of the bridge, and the food is simply delicious.” Turning to me, she said, “We won’t look out of place, dressed up. Although their usual clientele is the younger couples, and middle class, some dress up. Not the regulars of course, like the journalists and the artists.”
“So it’s changed. I know it used to be the in-place for the ‘in-crowd’, that’s why I quit visiting it. I guess, it must have been a short-lived fashion. It’s good that they didn’t stick around too long.”
“Oh, you’ll see some of them. Especially the up and coming painters, and a few singers among the artists, but the old timers still make up the bulk of the clientele.”
The plans for the dinner made, we left the patisserie and walked to the square, which was a huge open plaza. Several five star hotels, with cabs, dotted this area, so we took a taxi to where we had our car parked, and then drove home in Dana’s car.
* * * * *
When we were back at Dana’s, I dug out Alex’s number and called him, to make an appointment for Monday, and also to see Gary. I knew Alex was going to work, so I thought we could visit Gary during his lunch break, and after Alex left, I could talk about the rolls of film I wanted to get printed. Both Dana and Sarah were listening to the conversation, and they figured out what I was planning. The rest of the afternoon, I read the novel I brought with me, while the girls talked among themselves. Taking care they weren’t disrupting my reading, they sometimes asked me questions, more to make me feel I wasn’t being excluded. Towards late afternoon, they prepared a few sandwiches and served tea, and I put down my book to talk with them.
Later, I shaved, took a quick shower, and got dressed, opting for the new shirt and tie they bought. The girls also took showers, and helped each other dress up. They didn’t chase me out of the bedroom when they were dressing, and it was a real treat. Reflecting on it, I wondered if I, too, had a voyeuristic streak.
Sarah put on her new smoke colored panties, and with her gray and translucent dress, it was difficult to see whether she had panties on. The thigh-hi stockings were also a good match, and the embroidered design drew the attention to her long legs. The light and dark colors matched the translucent and darker colors of her dress, exposing and hiding at the same time the strategic parts. When she sat down the hem of her dress pulled up high, exposing creamy thighs, a very eye-catching sight. Of course, she didn’t put on the bra from the set she bought—which I expected—and her nipples and dark areola were partially visible behind the darker portions of the dress.
Similarly, Dana opted for a very revealing black dress with thin straps that went behind her neck. The material was shimmering in the light, and the décolletage in the front put her breasts on display. The back was non-existent, somewhat similar to the outfit Kathy had worn a week or so ago, but the main difference was that only a little piece of cloth covered her tits, with nothing on the sides under her arms. Same as Sarah, the thigh-hi stockings complemented her look perfectly. She put on a black G-string, and seeing the quizzical look on my face she told me the blue panty set was for a blue dress she had. They both put on high heel pumps, accentuating their shapely legs further. They looked comfortable in them, and remembering they wanted to visit a club to dance I was sure they were very well versed in the art of moving in high heels. Because both were tall, around 5’–8”, with the addition of pumps, they stood almost as tall as I was, perhaps an inch shy.
I noticed Sarah putting a G-string in her purse, and when she saw me catch her she shrugged nonchalantly with a wry grin. Considering what I knew about her, it didn’t surprise me that she was taking precautions, and worse yet, I suspected I was going to be teased mercilessly.
Oh, well! I’ll even the score one of these days!
Just before seven, Dana called a cab.
* * * * *
On the way downtown, I asked the driver to take the longer but scenic route by the shore. It was a lovely mixture of modern architecture and the opulence and splendor of the past: modern hotels standing next to shorefront wooden villas, mansions, and marble palaces. Further along the way, outside the main city, elegant high-rises surrounded neighboring small fishing villages. Despite the richness of culture, and history visible at every inch of the way, it was as cosmopolitan as any other major city in the rest of the world. However, the mixture was unorthodox, and perhaps what gave this city its unique flavor: a melting pot of past and present, the exotic and mysterious, elegance and simple beauty, centuries-long traditions, customs, and modern style living.
We all enjoyed the view of this magnificent city, taking in the sights. In the distance, we could see the legs of the bridge rising up as two giant columns. We were close to one of the most popular spots, and the restaurant wasn’t too far away. The whole area was previously a small fishing village, where university students and teachers gathered to drink tea and discuss a wide range of subjects. While that still hasn’t changed, it had developed into a district with an increasing number of restaurants, bars, and shops. There was a huge market that attracted a lot of people, and the side streets usually had small stands with the students from the nearby university displaying their art: paintings, photos, trinkets, original designs of leather, textiles, and jewelry. Second hand books, and old LPs were there in abundance, and the scene was usually very lively with lots of young people gathering, especially during the weekends.
Apart from the big restaurants, and bars, there were many small establishments, such as bistros, taverns, and pubs. Some of the small eateries on the side streets would be open 24/7, serving breakfast, lunch, dinner. In the early morning hours, they would get rather busy, serving a traditional soup—which was quite heavy and fatty—to those patrons that were looking for something to settle their stomachs after a night of heavy drinking. Even though I didn’t much care for the taste, I knew from first hand experience it was a good remedy after indulging in too much alcohol, and it was very effective as a precautionary measure if you had been moderate in your alcohol intake.
As we neared our destination, I directed the driver to a side road. Dana looked at me quizzically, hearing my instructions.
“I want to take in the sights and smells, and walk the short distance to the restaurant,” I said.
“That’s all right. Why did you choose this road? It’s kind of away from things.”
“Umm... Most of this area has cobble stone streets and pavements, but there’s a narrow strip of cement-paved walkway by the shore. I thought you two would be more comfortable walking in those high heels, and I miss the smell of sea.” Seeing the surprised expression on her face, I added, “Kathy hates walking on irregular surfaces with high heels...”
She laughed softly in amusement at my explanation, but I could see she was pleased, because she patted my arm in affection, and leaning in, she said, “You really surprise me, Mitch. Thank you. Yes, it’s not only uncomfortable, but it can ruin the heels.”
The cab driver pulled next to the curb. We all got out, and crossed the short distance to the walkway. The air was fresh and crisp, despite the various smells of cooking as we passed by the various restaurants. The sounds of different kinds of music (the traditional classic music, Greek tavern music, gypsy violins, disco and pop) were trickling out, mixing with the sounds of traffic. The put–put–put of a small fishing boat, and the cries of sea gulls complemented the symphony of sounds. For an October evening, it was relatively warm, but a bit windy. When we reached the walkway and the shorefront, we stopped, and took in the sight of the few local anglers looking for a catch or just idling. To our right, there was a huge waterfront teahouse that was a favorite for the locals of the district as well as students, and despite the hour, it was fairly crowded, mostly with young people.
My eyes took in the scenery, scanning, and absorbing each tiny detail hungrily. The light was fading, but it was still light enough. I felt myself slowly become immersed in the atmosphere, in the magic of this city and the moment. It was like those rare occasions on the rig in winter when I would watch the snowflakes fall down, listening to the sound of silence. Now, I could feel the choppy waters of the sea, and if I concentrated more, I could almost feel the wind beneath the wings of the sea gulls. When the sound of a horn from a passing ferry cut through the soft symphony sharply, melancholy welled up inside me. It was a peculiar sound (like the horn of a train leaving a station) that I had always associated with parting and loneliness—long before I learned the meaning of those words. Since my childhood, this city had evoked mixed and often contradictory feelings in me. On one side, I had happy memories, and I loved this city; there was so much beauty to be seen everywhere I looked. On the other hand, it evoked so much melancholy that, at times, I found it difficult to reconcile my feelings. Now, I was coming to understand its dual nature, and perhaps, accept it to a certain degree. Despite the present company, I didn’t fight it but let the melancholy come and wash over me until it faded away on its own accord.
At the tip of my tongue were a few lines from a short poem; a poem Alex had written about loneliness and this city some years ago... when we were more than a thousand miles away... away from our homes, and lives we’ve known... at the other end of the country... in a place that had nothing, but nothing at all in common with this city... or with us for that matter. We had been strangers in a strange land... at least, I knew I have felt that way. Even now, I still felt like a stranger there despite the length of time I’ve spent.
I doubt that will ever change!
We had been in his room; drinking and talking... about this city, of our memories... feeling rather melancholic and lonely that particular night. While I was refreshing our drinks, he picked up his notebook and started to scribble a draft. in a matter of minutes, and in the next half hour he put it in its final form. He had a knack for words, and I remembered fondly how it had rubbed off on me as well, eventually. I wasn’t as good as him with poetry, although I’ve scribbled some, but mostly I wrote letters... letters that had never been sent, now sitting in a small safe deposit box in a bank with my other personal effects and valuables.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
I glanced at Dana barely hearing her question, as my mind was still far away, trying to recall the exact lines from Alex’s poem. “This city... Alex...” I trailed off, without realizing what I said.
“Alex?” Dana inquired with a confused tone. That brought me back to present, partially. As I was thinking how I should answer her question, she asked, “Did you miss it that much?”
At the sudden change in the question and her tone of voice, I turned to her. From the expression on her face I could see she thought I didn’t want to talk about it. I suspected she was offering me an out. I nodded still busy trying to formulate an answer, but paying attention to Dana. She was watching me carefully. I also noticed that Sarah seemed to be lost in the atmosphere.
“Yeah, I missed it,” I said. I swept the scenery with my hand. “This scene reminded me of... things. Memories from childhood... Alex and of our talks about this city...”
There followed a long period of silence as I turned and gazed at the sea again. I went back to my search for the lines from Alex’s poem. As I recalled each line, I mumbled them out quietly to help my memory, each line bringing forth the next one.
I was struck—once again—by how he seemed to capture the essence of loneliness, melancholy and this city, but also a part of ourselves... as we were then.
I was mentally repeating the lines again, to make sure I had them correctly, when Dana asked softly, almost hesitantly, “What’s that?”
I turned to face her again, and saw her looking at me with a quiet appraisal, and curiosity. “It’s something Alex wrote... about this city.”
She asked me to recite what he had written, and I repeated it once more, and this time I noticed Sarah was listening to our conversation.
“Is it really about this city?” Dana asked after mulling it over for a short while.
“In a way it is,” I replied. “You have to know some things about Alex to understand it. He was born here, but as you can guess from his name, he’s of Greek origin; I think his father is from Thessalonica. However, in many ways that’s not the only thing he is. This country is a mixture of many cultures, and minorities, each bringing something special and unique. Alex is someone who embraces all those things. That makes him a child, a product of this country... but especially of this particular city, of its history and mixture of cultures. So when you look at this city, its history, its people, you can see all those things he mentions in his poem.”
“Yes, but I get the feeling he was talking more about loneliness and perhaps his feelings,” Dana said.
“Perhaps... but as I said, he’s a product of this city... almost an embodiment of all those things that makes this city what it is. There’s love, hurt, loneliness, happiness and melancholy in this city... in abundance. It has seen its share, perhaps more than its share of wars, pain and hurt, but also great times, beauty, growth, riches, prosperity. We tend to be products of our environs, shaped by history and culture... at least that’s what I believe we are. Alex and I share an interest and love of history, and of this city. Maybe that’s why I think the poem is about this city. It’s also the way he writes. He doesn’t use any punctuation, but simple indented lines and blocks of text with free style verse. If you add inflections or pauses at different spots than where the lines or blocks end, the poem takes on a different meaning.”
“What do you mean?”
I explained by reciting the poem with pauses and inflections at the end of each line, and then recited it a second time, making subtle changes where I inflected pauses. The effect was more pronounced at the last two lines, where I added a comma after “an oft frequented shelter,” to separate it from “we hide in.” Then I joined the last line to “we hide in,” and the effect was complete.
“So you see, it could be that the loneliness is the shelter we visit—hide—and seek refuge in, or it could be that there’s a shelter that is hidden inside loneliness. The changes in meaning are subtle and the whole poem is quite amorphous in nature. Alex likes to use that amorphous style whenever he can, and I really love that.”
“But does it make any sense to change it like that?” Dana said.
“Why not... in fact it’s the very description of this city, in terms of love and loneliness, encompassing the amorphous nature of our love of this city. I have a love and hate relationship with this city, depending on my mood... and other things. Of course, on a different level, it is a personal description, a romantic expression.” I gave her a mischievous look, and asked pointedly, “Does that make more sense?”
She smiled, but wasn’t going to let me get away with it so easily. “So which one do you take it to mean?”
“Oh, I’m flexible. Both serve their purposes and I like both for different reasons,” I returned with a challenging grin. “As I said, it’s amorphous, malleable, and I like that.” Before she could object, I added, “What really counts is Alex’s interpretation of what he sees as he puts it onto paper; after all he wrote it.”
Until then Sarah had been quiet, and when Dana didn’t continue, she chose this opportunity to join the conversation.
“I didn’t figure Alex for the sensitive or insightful kind, but that poem is quite beautiful, and complex.”
“Alex is... many things. He’s complex,” I said, and left it at that.
“Well I thought he was...” Sarah trailed off, suddenly realizing she was going to say something negative about a friend of mine, knowing that Alex and I were quite close...
“That he’s a womanizer, a skirt-chaser, a tease, an outrageous flirt?”
She nodded hesitantly.
“It’s all right, Sarah. Impressions differ from person to person. I’m not sure if I would call him a womanizer. That’s what Kathy thinks he is. I know he goes through women, but he’s not trying to keep a scorecard, or using and discarding them. He’s not that kind of a person. He might have been joking about being a gardener, but it was really a self-deprecating humor... and yet, it is, in some ways, how he sees himself. He just loves women... in some ways he’s like Zorba.”
As I mentioned Zorba the Greek, I remembered Alex frequently quoted something or other from it, and couldn’t help but grin at some of the quotes that came to my mind.
“What’s so funny?” Sarah asked.
“I was just remembering some stuff Alex used to quote frequently... stuff from Zorba the Greek. Some were... ummm... entertaining.”
“Like what?” Sarah asked.
“Nope. I’m not telling you. I don’t want to be taken as a sexist pig, and neither do I want you to get the wrong impression about Alex.”
“Come on, Mitch. I know you’re not a sexist pig,” Sarah said.
I shook my head.
“I don’t think Alex is a sexist pig,” Dana said. I knew she had figured out some stuff about Alex, so I wasn’t really surprised about her comment. Hearing that Sarah gave a quizzical look at Dana.
“As Mitch said, Alex is a complex person. Your first impression of him is misleading,” Dana elaborated.
Sarah got thoughtful at that, and after momentary pause, she said, “Please, Mitch. I’d like to hear those quotes.”
“Taken out of context, they would sound awful. You’d better read the novel, or watch the movie. Anthony Quinn was great, and the movie was excellent. If you don’t believe me, talk with your granddad. I’m sure he has some good things to say about Zorba.”
Sarah nodded, but gave me an expectant look, urging me to give an example.
“OK... here goes nothing. ‘Life is trouble. Only death is not. To be alive is to undo your belt and look for trouble.’”
First, Sarah’s face broke into a smile, then turned into a grin, and finally she broke into giggles, while Dana gave me an amused grin.
“I can see why you were reluctant to tell us. Are you looking for trouble?” Sarah quipped, in between giggles and tittering.
“Now, don’t start that! I was only quoting. I didn’t say I subscribe to the idea.”
Dana must have felt I needed to be teased as well, and following Sarah’s lead, she said, “Why, Mitch? Don’t you want to be alive, or aren’t we appetizing enough?”
“Oh, God! I’m not talking to either of you if you keep on like this,” I retorted.
When they continued to grin I raised my hands as if disgusted at their antics. “Zorba is an interesting character. He has a different philosophy and ideas about life, work and things. He’s a bit crazy, or mad. He says ‘you need a little madness, or else you’ll never cut the rope and be free!’ I guess it sums up his outlook pretty well. So you have to take his words within the context of his character and his cultural make up,” I said, trying to explain, but it was as if my words were falling on deaf ears.
After a little more of smiles and giggles they decided to put an end to their teasing and changed the subject.
“You said you missed this city, and you look like you do. How long has it been?” Dana asked.
“More than a year I think. The last time was... when I was visiting my cousin-in-law. Well, actually, I should say ex-cousin-in-law. They divorced a few years ago, but I still keep in touch with him. He used to take me to the restaurant we are going to, and the last time, we lunched somewhere over there,” I replied, turning to point in the direction of one of the side streets, while my mind went back in time.
Perhaps she heard something in my voice, because she asked, “You visit him, but you don’t visit your cousin?”
I returned an embarrassed smile, and nodded. After a pause, I said, “It’s kinda difficult to explain. You can’t choose your family, relatives, but you can choose who you want as friends. He’s been closer than most of my other relatives, more of an uncle than a real uncle. He’s quite a bit older than I am, early 40s, and when I was younger, I used to call him uncle. Now, I call him by his name, but still he’s more of an uncle... and a friend.”
Hesitantly she asked, “Something happened with your cousin?”
“No, not really. It’s not that I dislike her, but she often treated me like I were a child. I was 12 when she got married and I met him, and he treated me as a grown up from the very first moment. She, on the other hand, kept on treating me like a child for several years, and it’s still a sore point. The funny thing is, when she had her baby, her daughter, she trusted me to look after her at the time, despite my age.”
I found myself smiling, reflexively, as I thought about my second cousin. She was such a doll, and fascinated me to no end when I was 13 years old, holding her in my arms, a small bundle of lovely beauty, a very quiet baby who didn’t cry much. It had been such a strange experience at first, and later, something I looked forward to every time I visited my cousin and stayed with them for a week or two during semester breaks. I literally saw her grow up, from a toddler crawling on the floor, to a child that learned to walk. To tell the truth, I never considered myself as somebody who would be interested in babies or children. At that age, babies were strange creatures that required constant attention, and children were pests; at least, that was how I felt about them.
How strange it is that, every now and then life throws you a curve ball, and you get involved in things you never thought you would.
I chuckled at the thought, and both girls gave me a quizzical look when they heard me.
“You have a second cousin?” Sarah asked.
I nodded, but when I didn’t continue, she said, “From the smile on your face, she must be something.”
With a grin, I nodded again. “Let’s walk to the restaurant. I’ll tell you about her.”
We walked the short distance along the walkway, before turning into one of the side streets. The restaurant was located at the intersection of the walkway and the side street. Just when we reached the door, I heard the sound of wind chimes, and turned to the sound. I saw a display about 20 yards away, on the opposite curb; a student was selling his wares. Seeing me stop and turn, the girls stopped, and followed my gaze. Without another word, I walked to the display to have a quick look, while the girls followed me, their high heel shoes clicking on the cobble stone street, joining the cacophony of the traffic sounds from the main street, and the tinkling of the wind chimes.
We all looked at the display. Besides the few wooden wind chimes, there were several metal ones, and small trinkets made from ceramic, glass and other materials. There were also leather purses, wallets, and belts for ladies and men. Testing the sound of a few of the metal chimes, I chose a small one, and remembering my wallet was worn out, and noting the more than agreeable prices of the leather wallets, I added a wallet to my choices. Sarah was busy looking over the trinkets, while Dana was checking out the belts.
“The belts are nice, aren’t they?” I asked Dana, who nodded. “Why don’t you get one?”
She smiled, and after a few minutes of going over the various belts, she chose one. In the meantime, I checked Sarah, and she was going over rings with colored stones. I leaned, and whispered, “Like you, he’s a student, and you’ll make him very happy if you see something you want.”
She nodded, before giving me small smile, then chose a ring that resembled a puzzle ring, but with a more intricate design. It was slightly larger than her ring finger, and I saw her try it on her thumb, which looked really nice. I saw bracelets with very small ceramics shaped like a teardrop, attached with tiny links to the bracelet. Looking it over carefully, I recognized the blue and white design used to ward off the evil eye on the small ceramics, sort of a charm bracelet. Although it was something for younger people, I knew many women wore something like that, especially in the summer. I bought two of them, for Dana and Sarah, receiving surprised looks, however, it was hard to miss the symbolic nature of the bracelets. They both put them on.
“It’s all right if you don’t want to put them on now. They really don’t match your dresses. I was hoping you might wear it when you are dressed casually or in the summer by the beach,” I said, and they both smiled in appreciation, but they didn’t take them off.
We had a short-lived, but good-natured argument over who was paying for what, while the student, a young guy in his 20s—we later learned he was a third year student in the nearby art college—watched us in amusement. I got the feeling he was hoping we would continue our discussion, because he hardly took his eyes off Sarah. I couldn’t fault him with his choice. He probably felt Dana was out of his league because of her beauty and age, but Sarah was closer to his age, and she had been friendly with him, noticing his interest. While we were looking over his wares, she kept asking about this or that and he seemed quite taken by her melodic voice and friendly manners.
In the end, Dana and Sarah paid for the wind chime and my wallet, while I paid for the other purchases. While he was wrapping up our purchases, a raven-haired beauty came, carrying two big sandwiches. From the looks of it, she was either his girlfriend or a fellow student. Sarah being Sarah, probed inconspicuously, and we learned she was both, as well as the designer of the leather products. Dana and I praised her for her designs, and Sarah gave a discreet but admonishing look to him, for flirting with her, when he had a beautiful girlfriend. Luckily, the girl didn’t notice, but the guy looked properly chastised, and perhaps scared of his girlfriend’s reaction. Collecting our purchases, we left for the restaurant.
“You scared him, Sarah,” Dana said in a low voice.
“Well, he had it coming. Didn’t you notice how beautiful his girlfriend was?”
“Yes, she was,” Dana concurred. “He wasn’t really flirting with you, was he?”
“No, but he looked interested. Sometimes, I don’t understand men... especially the young men,” Sarah replied.
“Grass is always greener on the other side of the fence,” I quipped, receiving a sharp look from both of them. “Hey, I was just offering an explanation. I didn’t mean to defend him or anything...” I added hastily.
They kept giving me the look, but eventually relented. I was wondering if I really offended them, but when Dana turned to Sarah and said, “You know, it’s so easy to control men. Just one look and they know their place,” I realized they had been pulling my leg.
“You witches! You just wait and see,” I retorted.
“Oh dear. We woke up the sleeping lion,” Dana quipped, getting a giggle from Sarah.
“Sleeping lions aren’t much fun. We can take turns taming him,” Sarah responded with a gleeful smile.
“We’ll see about that,” I replied, feeling defiant for some reason.
“Very admirable, Mitch. I hope you’ve not forgotten that you asked us to take it easy on you,” Dana reminded me giving me a challenging smile.
Oh, shit!!! I’ve really put my foot...
I tried to keep a poker face, but both knew me too well, and didn’t buy it. Instead, they flashed me evil grins, making me laugh. By then we were at the restaurant, and I opened the door to let the girls in. Seeing we were in a small hallway, with no prying eyes, I quickly stole a kiss from each girl. We walked into the main room, and looked around. The place was half-full, this being Sunday, and mostly with the regulars. I recognized a few faces: journalists, writers and poets, and some others that I didn’t know their names, but their faces were familiar from their occasional public appearances. Then, we saw the wife of the owner coming toward us. In the dim light, she didn’t recognize me, and as it had been more than a year since I visited this restaurant, I didn’t give it much thought. However, as soon as she got to us, I saw her face light up with recognition.
“Mitchell!!! What a pleasant surprise,” she said, before hugging me, and kissing me on both cheeks.
I returned her hug, and then pulled back to look at her. “Siran, you look lovely as ever. How are you?”
“Oh, you know... Slaving away in the kitchen, feeding my children,” she replied.
“And how is Hagop? Still, giving you a hard time?”
“He’s dreaming about the day he’ll establish his harem. He’s still looking for my replacement.”
“Why do you put up with him? Just put him in the loony bin, and let your admirers take care of you,” I returned.
“I would... if I could get the secrets of his family recipes,” she replied with a soft laugh.
Turning to my guests, she greeted them, while I made the introductions, then she showed us to a table by the window, with a view of the shore and the bridge.
“So, you’re a regular here?” Dana asked, after that little exchange.
“Not really. My uncle—I mean, my ex-cousin-in-law—used to take me here, over the years. So I guess I’m a familiar face. My uncle is more of a regular. I kind of prefer places I know, and feel more comfortable, than in some new and strange place. I don’t mean I wouldn’t try a new place, or explore, but sometimes I opt for familiarity,” I offered.
“Siran... That’s an interesting name,” Sarah commented. “Is she... are they really Armenian?”
“Yes, they are. As you might know this country has many minorities, but a select majority of them are here, in this city: the Jews, Armenians, White Russians that escaped after the Bolshevik Revolution, some Poles—remember the nearby village with the big national park, named after them?—and many others. Each add their unique flavor to the mix, and that’s what makes this city so rich in color, and special. Maybe you don’t know it, but many of the appetizers and some of the dishes we think of as our own, are from different places. You can trace their origins from the Balkans, to Persia to the Middle East, and so on. And here, they have some of the best examples of Armenian kitchen.”
Dana was listening to our conversation, and she asked, “Does her name have a special meaning?”
“Yeah. It means lovely,” I replied.
At first, she thought I was pulling her leg, but then she realized I was serious. “I know. I wouldn’t call her beautiful. Perhaps, a handsome woman, but when you get to know her you come to see her as her namesake. She’s lovely,” I explained.
“Now that you mention it... Yes, she is a handsome woman. I never thought I would use handsome to describe a woman, but it applies to her, and I think you’re right about her name. It suits her perfectly,” she responded.
Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Siran’s husband, Hagop. He had put on some weight, and lost more hair since I saw him last, but he still looked very much as he used to look: a classic picture of a tavern owner and cook. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, and a white apron around his belly, which he used to wipe his hands, before extending one to me in greeting.
“Mitchell. It’s been a long time. How are you?”
“Fine, Hagop. I’m not going to ask how you’re doing. Siran told me you were up to your antics again. When are you going to give it up?” I replied with a wry grin.
“Now, lad... let me tell you something. A man needs more than one wife: an Armenian woman in the kitchen, a Greek woman in his bed, a Jewish woman to look after the purse, and a Turkish woman to mother his kids. I thought your cousin would have taught you that a long time ago,” he lectured me with a grave expression on his face, before it gave way to a knowing grin. I’ve heard the same lecture from him so many times, I’ve lost count.
After that little exchange, I made the introductions, and remembering how the girls had been teasing me, I said, “Well. I’ve learned that lesson, and as you can see I’m ahead of you.”
Although surprised, both girls smiled good-naturedly at my quip, and Hagop gave me a measured look, trying to see if I was serious, before he started to laugh. However, part of my mind was busy, and considering the nature of my relationship—our relationship—I didn’t want either girl to take it the wrong way. “Sorry, Hagop. I couldn’t help but tease you. They are good friends, and lovely companions,” I offered.
“I was thinking you were off to a promising start. Why do you shatter the dreams of an old man?” Hagop retorted, getting smiles and soft laughter from Dana and Sarah. Turning to them, he asked, “I hope you don’t mind the banter of a cranky old man, do you?”
“We don’t mind, do we?” Dana responded, directing a questioning glance at Sarah who shook her head and flashed a dazzling smile to Hagop. “And, you’re not that old.”
“Thank you. Both of you are sweet and lovely. I wish I had met you before Mitch did,” he responded. Then he asked, “So, what can I serve you? I’m assuming you would like to have some fresh fish.”
I nodded in confirmation, and turned to the girls. “How about some cold and warm apetizers, then we can choose the fish?”
When they agreed, I asked what they would like to drink. Sarah asked for Ouzo, and after a slight hesitation, Dana joined her.
“You don’t have to. If you prefer white wine, they have a very good selection,” I said to Dana.
“I prefer Ouzo,” she responded.
Turning to Hagop, I said, “I think a small selection of cold starters would do fine, Hagop. You know, the usual: melon, feta, fava mashed bean salad, topik, eggplant puree, artichoke bottoms, and tossed salad of greens. Do you have stuffed vine leaves?”
“Sorry, Mitchell. Yesterday, it was very crowded, but I have some stuffed mussels if you want. There’s some left over from yesterday.”
“Great. Let me see... Oh, yeah, a half carafe of Ouzo with plenty of water and ice.”
“You don’t want any warm appetizers? I have fresh mussels, calamari, cheese rolls...”
“Cheese rolls... yes, please. I think we will wait a bit for the rest of the warm appetizers,” I said, turning to the girls. Dana seemed a bit overwhelmed with the list, and I got the feeling she wasn’t familiar with some of the items. Sarah on the other hand, seemed very much at home with the choices.
“Dana, something else you’d like to have?” I asked.
“I... I think I’ll go along with your choices,” she replied, hesitantly.
After Hagop left with our order, she said, “I may have grown up here, but there are still many things I’m not familiar with, like some of the appetizers you chose.”
“It’s all right, Dana. Most of the appetizers go with the Ouzo, and some are Armenian preparations. If you’re not an Ouzo drinker, you wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, I drink Ouzo, but I’m not very familiar with all the appetizers that go with it. And I spend as much time abroad as at home,” she replied.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I hope you’ll like some of it.”
“I’m not familiar with topik. What’s that?” Sarah asked.
“It’s sort of a potato cake made from boiled and pureed potatoes, and filled with raisins, cinnamon and onions. It’s a very old Armenian dish, and has quite a unique flavor. I know of a few places that serve it, and I think it’s preparation is turning into something of a lost art.”
My eyes took in the décor, and I noticed quite a few changes. Even Dana noted that it has changed since her last visit, some months ago. The tables were the same simple wooden planks fixed on top of an old wooden wine barrel, but the chairs were more comfortable, sporting thick cushions. The ceiling had old fishing nets, with various artifacts—mostly boat and ship accessories—hanging from them. There were a few strategically placed lamps that supplied ambient light, however he still had most of the oil lanterns lit and placed on the walls at regular intervals. Oil lamps also adorned the tops of the tables. I also saw some tables had candles instead of oil lamps, and noticing what I was looking at, Dana told me, Hagop had to give in to the request of some of his regular customers, when they complained about the oil smell, and the candles seemed to help with the cigarette smoke. Most of the clientele were writers of one sort or another, and a majority of them smoked; the journalists were the worst bunch. Sarah was gazing out the window, watching the scenery, and in the soft light, she looked very beautiful. I directed my gaze discreetly to Dana, and she had the same extraordinary quality to her beauty. Perhaps, she felt my eyes on her, because she turned and caught me watching her. I caught my breath, and despite her questioning eyes I was unable to put into words what I felt. I shrugged in answer, but I could see she wasn’t satisfied with my response. Then her expression changed, suddenly, as if...
She reached out with her hand, and patted my arm, giving me an appreciative look, then turned to watch the scenery, and Sarah. Feeling our eyes on her, Sarah turned to look at us. Then her eyes locked on Dana, and she almost looked like she was going to ask something, when her expression changed, a small smile forming on the corner of her lips, as she kept looking at Dana.
Dana broke the silence, first. “Do you like it, Sarah?”
“Yes. It’s lovely. But I think, being with you two, here, adds more to it than anything else,” she said.
Dana reached to take her hand in hers, and said, “Thank you, Sarah. I’m very happy to have both of you here. I’ve been here a few times, but it never felt as special as it feels now,” eliciting a soft smile of appreciation from her.
We returned to watching the scenery outside, as we waited for the food to arrive. I lit a cigarette, and when Dana searched for her pack in her purse, I offered one, and lit it. We sat quietly, absorbed in the view. In an hour or so, it would get much darker, and then the scenery would change: the lights from the traffic on the opposite shore would assume the look of a colorful snake, and the bridge would look majestic against a backdrop of darkness. Still, I could already discern a faint reflection of us in the windows. As I took in the sights of both girls, I was amazed at the easy comfort we seem to have, sitting quietly, yet sharing in the experience. I was in a contemplative mood, contrasting this moment to the times I had been here before, with my cousin-in-law, and his friends. This was the first time I had a girlfriend with me, in such a setting, especially in one of my favorite spots. It felt good to have Dana and Sarah with me, but more than that, it felt right, in some strange way, despite how unconventional our relationship was. Was it because I had seen such things before, among the artists I had noticed when I became old enough to realize what was going on? Or was it because I was raised in a somewhat unorthodox family environment? I wondered about my choice of word, unorthodox, to describe my family environment. It didn’t really deserve the label, but it hadn’t been traditional, either; I knew that after the talks I had with Mom, in the recent days. I wondered about Dana’s family life, how she had grown up. As these thoughts came and went, I knew I was looking forward to getting to know her better, and in the back of my mind, I was wondering whether I should take her to our summer flat, to show her around. A day or two visiting some of the more interesting spots would be nice, before we went to some other warmer place. I wasn’t sure why I felt like that, but I suspected, part of me was telling me to share with her some of my more personal things, and to some degree, I was surprised feeling comfortable enough to consider sharing them.
I took a long drag from my cigarette, and held it for a moment before I exhaled slowly. Putting my elbows on the table, I cupped a half fisted hand inside the palm of the other, the cigarette trapped between two fingers, sticking up. I watched the smoke curl and twist for a few seconds, almost hypnotized by its movement. Then I turned my gaze back to the window and the scenery outside. I missed this city, this restaurant, and some of the other familiar spots.
Perhaps, it will be nice to return here, after the vacation, and spend some more time with her. It’s been a long time.
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