*** January ***

Exiting my plane in the Athens airport I search the sea of people waiting for passengers. My eyes quickly land on a big, tall, blond soldier. I raise my arm and wildly wave. He stands firm and stoic, catching me as I jump into his arms. His arms circle me as our lips meet. I grasp onto his shoulders tightly, thrilled that I’m finally with him. Way too soon we release from each other’s grasp.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I’m so glad you got leave.”

“I told you, I’m a lucky guy.”

“I have a lot of luggage I hope we can hire a van.”

“Is this a repeat of our trip to Napa?”

“Better.”

As the luggage rolls by on the conveyer, I point to the first of my duffels. “There it is.”

“Man, this is heavy, what did you bring?”

“Wait, there are four more.”

“Olivia?”

I look up into the inquisitive Navy blue eyes. “Lufthansa allowed me to bring two hundred and fifty pounds. I packed five, fifty pound bags of shoes.”

“Hopefully not all for yourself.”

“Yeah, not for me. I found out what they need the most are men’s shoes and socks.”

“How many did you buy?”

“I only bought the duffels. I ran an event at school and got two hundred and fifty new shoes and socks donated. How cool is that. There’re two more of my bags,” I exclaim as I point. “This works out great. I love having my G.I. Joe pick me up at the airport.” I give him a wink as I rub my hand along his large biceps.

“And to think, I came for the sex.”

We lug all five duffels to our hotel room.

“Which bag has your stuff?” Conner asks as he looks at the pile of duffels in our hotel room. I point to the one little carry on wheelie. “No, the stuff with all your clothes.”

I zip it open and pull out my toiletry bag. “I desperately need a shower.”

“No, really, all you brought is this one little suitcase.”

“Conner, I lived for a year in Azraq with less.”

“College Olivia would be shocked.”

“College Olivia was a long time ago.”

He pulls me into his arms and kisses me like he means it. “I want you,” he murmurs into my ear.

“Mmmm, I think that shower can wait,” I purr as I run my hands down his chest and run my fingers along the edge of his jeans.

“I guess four months is the charm,” Conner murmurs as he moves me towards the bed.

“Four months?”

“When we were in Petra you said if you hadn’t seen me in four months you’d choose me over a shower.”

I bark out a laugh as I start stripping off my cloths.

***

“My feet hurt,” I moan as we sit down at the table to order dinner. “We did a lot of walking today.” I look up at the glowing Parthenon and point. “I think that was the best part of the day.

“Visiting the Parthenon?”

“And the museum.” I look over the menu. “Everything sounds good. I really like Greek food.”

“We have two more weeks of this. Let’s see how much you like Greek food at the end of our trip. Though I’m not sure what we’re going to get in Lesvos.”

“Greek food, it’s an Island with a big tourist industry. I’m sure there’re plenty of restaurants happy for our business.”

“I’m not sure how many of them will be open in January.”

“They have over three thousand aid workers there. I’m sure business is brisk.” I reach across the table and run my fingers over Conner’s hand. “We need to enjoy every moment we’re together.”

“That’s why you chose to turn our vacation together into a volunteer aid experience.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Liv, I’m doing everything I can to get six weeks off this summer. Do you think we can do something fun.”

“You don’t think Greece is fun?”

“We get two days to sightsee in Athens and the rest of the time we’ll be helping out with the refugees. It’s the equivalent of a bus driver’s vacation.”

“But we’re doing it together. More than that, we’re volunteers. That means we don’t have a boss. We can always take a mid-day siesta.”

“Liv, how come I suddenly have a feeling this summer isn’t going to be hanging out on a beach.”

***

“It’s charming,” I gasp as I lean my arms on the ferry’s railing and look out across the Aegean Sea. All the buildings of Skala Eresou are nestled along the beach with the hills as a backdrop. “How about I search out the rental car while you wrestle our bags. I’ll text you where we can meet.”

“I think you’ve chosen the easy task.”

I run my hand over Conner’s shoulder. “But you’re so big and strong.” He raises one eyebrow and smirks.

Conner gets into the car after packing the last of the duffels.

“I booked us a hotel in Eftalou Beach, Molyvos,” I explain as I show him the map of where we are going. “The hotel’s rooms look decent and breakfast is included.”

“Do we even get to eat breakfast? I thought we had to show up at sunrise to help.”

“Good point. But it’s right on the beach and the pool looks amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s fifty outside. I’ll leave the swimming to you.”

“This whole little adventure is reminding me of Jordan,” I explain as we drive across the island. “This is not summer camp. It’s up to us to find the relief workers, and to pitch in and help, there’s not a map that will show us the way.”

He drives with one hand on the wheel and the other holding my hand. It’s been four months since we’ve been together; we both want to be close. The rugged terrain reminds me of California. By mid-morning we’re at our hotel.

“How about if we leave our things here, grab some lunch, then hunt down the aid organization and see how we can help,” Conner suggests.

“Should we bring the shoes with us?” I question.

“Do you know where they're needed? No matter how well meaning, an aid agency doesn’t need a bunch of supplies dumped on their doorstep.”

“You’re right. How about after lunch we drive along the water to see if they’re picking anyone up. Then we can head over to Moria, that’s the processing center. We probably can talk to other aid workers to see where they need help.”

“That’s your plan?”

“When I contacted the aid agencies, they sounded happy to have Arab speakers to help out, but we need to find the work. The guy I spoke to at IsraAid said everyone communicates using WhatsApp. Don’t worry, I planned ahead and downloaded it, I also got his phone number so I can connect on to the network.”

***

“There’re some people over there,” I call out to Conner as we drive along the beach that skirts the Channel of Mityleni, a six mile wide body of water that separates the Island of Lesbos from the country of Turkey. Conner pulls over and parks.

“I hope they’re aid workers, not fishermen.”

We walk along the rocky coast. I’m surprised what I find. There’re a number of inflatable empty rubber boats, discarded clothes, and discarded life jackets strewn all over the rocky beach. A small group of people are picking things up.

I wave as we get close. “Hey, do you speak English?”

“Yes of course,” a women replies with a Germanic accent.

“We’re here to help out. What can we do?”

The man near her stops what he’s doing. “We’re helping out Allison from Dirty Girls. We pick up discarded clothes. She washes them and makes them available to refugees.” He points to some large containers. “Put what you find there.”

Conner and I dig in, spending the next hour gathering clothes that have been discarded along the rocky beach. When we’re done, we help the couple move everything to their truck.

“Allison came here a few months ago and started this aid group. She saw a problem and solved it,” the woman explains.

“What do you do with the life preservers and the boats?”

“No one does anything with them. I’m not sure who takes the engines, but by tomorrow, they’ll all be cut off the boats and probably sold in the Turkish black market.”

After dinner, as we walk arm-in-arm, Conner nuzzles my ear. “It’s the first day on the island. How about we go back to our room? We need to get up before daybreak if we want to help out at the beach.”

“Mmm, that sounds like a good plan.”

At daybreak we pull up at Kayia, a very rocky section of the coast. There’re a number of people already here. A couple of people with binoculars stand on cars surveying the water. A group of people are sitting around drinking coffee.

“Hi, my boyfriend and I are here to help,” I say in Hebrew to a woman wearing an IsraAid sweatshirt.

“What can you do?” she responds in English.

“We both speak Arabic,” I reply.

“I’m Noa, I’m a doctor.” She points to two other women, “They both are nurses. Are you squeamish?”

“I’m a med student, my boyfriend’s a soldier, I think we can handle whatever you throw at us.”

“You work with Ori,” she says to Conner. “He pulls in the boats and helps the people off.” She calls over to Ori, “This guy speaks Arabic.” Looking at me she continues, “You can work as my translator.”

We stand around for the next half an hour until one of the guys standing on the car starts to yell. “BOAT.”

A few people pick up sticks with life preservers on the end and wave them to signal the boats. We watch as a dark blob move towards us, as it gets closer you can see that it has a bunch of orange dots, even closer, the orange dots turn into life preservers. Then all hell breaks loose as the Aid workers race out to the boat to help the people off and perform triage. We make sure the people are dry, exchanging dry clothes for wet clothes, and providing food for those that need it. Someone calls for transportation since at some point the people are all moved to Moria. This effort reminds me of working in Azraq. Although instead of kitting people out and showing them to the place they’ll live, we send them to more uncertainty. This pattern is repeated for the next few hours. By noon I’m exhausted and my voice is hoarse from yelling directions at everyone.

 “Liv, you look exhausted,” Conner comments.

“I guess I’m still fighting jet lag.”

“How about we grab lunch. We can find someone else to help in the afternoon. We’ll join these guys again tomorrow morning.”

“I feel terrible leaving when there’s still work to be done.”

“There will always be work to be done.”

“True, and it’s our vacation.”

After lunch Conner easily convinces me to head back to our hotel room for a siesta, which of course, includes sex.

In the afternoon we head out to Moria, the processing center. After living in Azraq for a year, you’d think I’d be inoculated for bad situations, but Moria is still shocking. It’s an old prison, still with its high walls and barbed wire. They have forty eight Ikea huts, which are little more than tool sheds. Only ten have heaters, and it’s in the thirties at night. Many people are assigned to each of the huts.

“We have enough heaters for all the huts, but we don’t want to make this place too comfortable,” one of the aid workers tells us. If discomfort is their goal, then they’re wildly succeeding.

Since another goal is to limit clothes to just what everyone needs, they limit what anyone can collect. That is a parent can’t collect food or clothing for their family. Whole families can be seen walking around carrying garbage bags with all their possessions. At the top of the hill there’s a large hut for at risk families, there’s also a separate hut for single men.

“This place makes me depressed,” I tell Conner as we leave. “I much prefer working with the landing parties.”

“That’s because no one died today.”

***

After two weeks of aid work, Conner and I take the ferry back to Athens. In the airport, as he walks me to the ticket counter I hold onto him real tight as I wonder why I’m willing to part.

“Don’t even think of breaking up with me again,” I declare. “We’ll skype, we’ll text. You’ve got my school calendar. You need to get your commanding officer to give you leave this summer.”

“Next time we meet can we go to a beach to swim?”

“I saw you charging into the ocean. You got plenty of water time.”

“Let me clarify, do all my vacations now include rescuing people?”

“Do all of your vacations include me?”

He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “I hope so.”