No matter what I did, or how many times I cast my line into the sea, I couldn’t put what I’d seen out of my mind. I wanted to know who those people were… It should have been simple to move on. They were strangers, maybe even tourists, why should I care what they were doing?

The fish I carried over my shoulder had been promised to Costas at the Fish Tavern, and even though it was still early, he would be waiting for me. I walked along the high-tide line and my toes dug into the warm sand. I would much rather spend my whole day here, but my father was expecting me at the museum, and a very long, very boring, day stretched out ahead of me.  

It was early enough that the beach was almost deserted, but I could hear a child’s laughter over the crash of the waves. As I came closer, the laughter seemed to change. It might have been the sound of the ocean, or the way the waves pulled away from the shore, but my heart beat faster as I saw a dark head bobbing in the azure water of the Aegean.

Drowning. The child was drowning.

Without a second thought, I dropped everything into the sand and raced down to the ocean. As soon as my toes hit the water, I launched myself forward and swam with strong, confident strokes. I was so close to him, impossibly close, when a wave washed over the child’s head and tugged him under the surface. Panic surged through me as I dove down towards him. The water was clear, and I could see him ahead of me, a small, lithe shape in the water.

I swam harder and wrapped my arm around the child’s waist so I could haul him to the surface.

I pushed the child ahead of me, frantic to get him into the sunlight. As his head broke the surface he began to struggle against me, pushing me back with surprising strength. “I have to get you to shore,” I spluttered.

“I was holding my breath!” the child announced. He frowned at me and the metallic taste of panic on my tongue began to fade. “You made me lose count!”  

“I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I thought you were in trouble…”

The child laughed at me, shook his head and pointed to the shore. “Papá told me to see if I could beat his record. I was very close this time!”

I followed the child’s gaze and saw a tall figure standing on the beach. His hands were on his hips and his skin was beaded with seawater. I felt that same curiosity slip over my shoulders again.

“Cayden!” the man called from the shore and I had the distinct feeling that the stare he directed my way was suspicious and perhaps even a little hostile.

The boy started swimming and then paused to look over his shoulder at me. “Elá,” the boy said, gesturing for me to follow him.

I paused for only a moment, wondering what I was going to say to the man on the beach. “The truth, obviously, idiot,” I muttered. “You thought his kid was drowning.” It seemed logical enough, easy to explain. I swam after the child, who was moving faster than I could have expected. He beat me to shore and stood beside his impossibly tall father. As soon as I stepped out of the water the boy grabbed my hand and pulled me over.

“What were you doing?” the man asked darkly as he glowered down at me.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm. I was walking by… I thought he was drowning.”

“Drowning?”  

The child swung my hand and laughed. A smile seemed to ghost over the man’s lips as he looked at me.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Nikolos… Niko,” I stammered. I didn’t know why he made me feel so nervous. I never had trouble talking to strangers before, but there was something about him that made me feel strange; as though there were bugs crawling all over my skin.

“Niko,” he said, and a chill ran up my spine at the sound of my name on his lips. “Thank you… but my son was in no danger. He has been swimming in these waters since he was a babe.”

“So have I,” I blurted out. “But the ocean can be dangerous if you’re not watching… I was just—” The man raised an eyebrow and I closed my mouth and swallowed thickly. Seawater dripped in my eye and I knuckled it away before looking down at the boy as he squeezed my hand. He smiled at me and I felt some of my unease fade away.

“We won’t keep you from your day, Niko, I’m sure you have somewhere to be?” His question wasn’t really a question, and I could hear the command in his voice.

I did. Skatá.

“Yeah… I have to get to the museum.”

The boy beside me tugged on my hand and I smiled as I looked down at him. “Do you work there?” he asked.

“I do, me ton papá mou.” The boy grinned at me and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes.

“Is it fun?”

I chuckled lightly. “Not all the time,” I replied.

“Elá, Cayden. Thero will be waiting for us,” the man said. The boy pouted and let go of my hand reluctantly.

“I didn’t catch your name,” I said. The man’s eyebrow rose and I felt that crawling bug sensation again.

“I didn’t say it,” he said.

I stared at him for half a second before registering what he’d said. “Right, well, have a good day. It’s a small island, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I’m sure,” he replied, but it wasn’t clear if he was sincere about it or not.

“Bye Niko,” the boy called as I walked up the sand. I waved at him and bent to retrieve my bag of fish and my tackle from where I’d thrown them down before my rescue attempt.

I slung the bag over my shoulder and shook my head at my own foolishness. A guy like that, with a kid? They both spoke Greek, but there was something about their accents that I just couldn’t place. He was probably a stockbroker on holiday. And definitely straight. I had a hard enough time trying to keep my sexual preferences hidden from my friends, the last thing I needed was to make an idiot of myself in front of the stall stranger—well, any more than I already had.

I looked over my shoulder, but I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. The sunlight flashed off the ocean and blinded me for a moment. I shaded my eyes but when the spots faded, the beach was empty.

“You’re such a moron,” I muttered. The sun was high enough that it was obvious I was going to be late. That meant a lecture and a deep sigh from my father; my favorite combination.

“I’m sorry, Papá, I was…” I shook my head. There wasn’t much point in explaining. All that mattered was that I was late. The museum had been open for an hour by the time I ran through the front doors, carrying my shoes and pulling my uniform shirt on over my head.

I’d done my best to avoid my father until later in the day when the heat grew to be too much for the tourists, and they retreated back to their hotels or to the beach to cool off in the waves.     

 My father emerged from his office as he always did at this time of day and I followed him to the Sanctuary of the Great Gods. He had eaten his lunch here every day since I was a child. I followed this time and joined him under the shade of a laurel tree. He barely acknowledged my arrival, but I didn’t let his reaction deter me.

“Papá,” I said as I settled myself onto the dry grass beside him. “How were the actors you hired? I saw some of them this morning.”

“Actors?” My father shook his head and looked at me with confusion in his dark eyes. “There were no actors scheduled to perform today… not until next month. Have you forgotten the schedule?”

“No, Papá, I just…”

My father shook his head sadly. “Sometimes I wonder if being away from here is a good thing for you, Nikolos. Every time you come home you seem more distant. I had hope d sending you away to school would make you realize your place is here, in the museum, with me.”

I pressed my lips together, unwilling to have the same argument for the millionth time. “I know, Papá, but I’m not—”

“Not ready?” he interrupted me. “That is very clear. I can only say that I am grateful that this is your last year of study.”

The unwillingness to argue began to melt away as my father kept talking. “What if I don’t want it to be my last year?” I blurted out. “What if I don’t want to come home next summer? All of my friends travel and see the world during the summer, and all I do is come here and spend it trapped in the museum—”

“Trapped?”

My father stared at me with calm eyes, but given the way his hands flexed around his thermos, I knew he was angry.

Skatá.

“That’s not what I meant—”

“It’s exactly what you meant, Nikolos,” he said, his voice quiet and measured. A bad sign. A very bad sign. “You’re too much like your mother. She never took my work seriously, always wanted to travel. ‘Anywhere but here, Stelios!’ she would wail.”

I hated it when he brought up my mother. She had left when I was very small, and he had never forgiven her for it. He would go to his grave cursing her name, of that I was sure.

“Papá…”

“What, Nikolos?” he snapped. “Will you tell me next that you want to move away from here forever? Are you so unhappy with the life I’ve given you? Have I asked too much of you?”

I gritted my teeth and measured my answer carefully. “No, Papá,” I replied. “I just think I can be of more use to you, to myself, if I’ve seen… more. Maybe it will make me appreciate this island more—”

“Appreciate? How can you not appreciate all that the gods laid out for us? What good would it do you to see the rest of the world? The world comes to us, my son. Can you not be content with that? My friend Karolos has a daughter about your age. Maybe a wife would calm your itchy feet, what do you think about that?”

My mouth fell open and I felt all the blood drain out of my face as I stared at my father.

“A wife?”

“Irida is a beautiful girl, you used to play with her brothers when you were children.”

“Yeah…”

I barely remembered Irida, but I remembered her brother Christos far better. He’d been my first love, and my first broken heart. But that had been forever ago. I’d kissed him, and he’d given me a black eye for my efforts. We were nine.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Nikolos. There is no shame in a simple life. A family. Irida would make you a good wife, and I’d like some grandchildren before I’m too old to pick them up when they fall down.”

I let out a deep sigh, unable to meet my father’s dark eyes as he smiled hopefully in my direction.

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered. And I would, but not in the way he was hoping. I’d have to figure out how the hell to get out of here. With my luck he’d already talked to his old friend and the wedding date had all but been decided without me. This was not how I’d intended to spend my summer, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the way I was spending the rest of my life.

My father waved me away, no doubt smiling to himself about how soon he would be able to finally tell his friends that his son was going to ‘make something of himself.’ Like Prometheus, I would fashion a new persona out of the clay of who I was into something more acceptable for the little world my father insisted we inhabit.

But as my father said many times before, I was nothing like him, and I was too much like my mother.

I stomped back to the museum and laced myself into my shoes just in time to open the doors for the late afternoon crowd. I was straightening the tourist brochures and refilling the postcards when a child’s voice startled me.

“Niko!”

“Hey,” I said warmly as Cayden ran through the museum door. I watched warily for his father and swallowed thickly as the tall man’s frame filled the doorway.

“I told Papá he had to bring me,” Cayden said brightly. He stood on his tiptoes and rested his chin on the wooden counter.

His father approached and laid his hands on the boy’s shoulders. I felt suddenly nervous as the man’s dark eyes met mine.

“You have to give us a tour, Niko,” Cayden whispered.

My eyes darted to the museum door. I couldn’t leave the desk unmanned, and for some reason, the thought of being alone with this tall, overpowering specimen was more overwhelming than I wanted to admit.

“I’m sorry, Cayden. I have to stay at the desk until my Papá comes back.” I grabbed a museum guide and held it out to him. “But as soon as he does, I’ll come and find you, okay?”

The boy pouted but took the pamphlet. I held one out to his father, and after a moment’s hesitation he took it from me. Our fingers brushed briefly, and I felt a ripple of heat tremble up my arm.

“Elá, Papá!” Cayden skipped away from the desk. I dragged my eyes away from his father’s face, but not before noticing something skim over his expression. He turned away and I was finally able to release the breath I’d been holding.

What the hell was happening to me? I rubbed my hand against my thigh, trying to chase away the heat lingering on my skin.

“Nikolos!” My father was clearly finished with his lunch. I had zero interest in listening to a continuation of our conversation and as soon as my father’s footsteps echoed in the entranceway I ran from the desk and into the museum after Cayden and his father.