CHAPTER 2
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NICK
The line of people waiting to pass through security was so long it snaked around in loops as far as the eye could see. It was the first week in July, of course, and school was out; the long-awaited summer vacation finally here.
The idea of standing in line for an hour to get my bags checked was unbearable, and it wasn’t without relief that I flashed my cell phone at the stout woman in a blue uniform who was directing traffic. She nodded. “First-class passengers through that way,” she said, pointing towards the left.
I walked past the enthusiastic crowds, past moms counting bags and children, past dads who scratched their heads and double-checked whether they had all the passports. The first-class queue was blissfully short. The officer at the desk greeted me with a smile and handed me a large gray bin, in which I placed my small case and a leather bag.
We exchanged pleasantries as he passed my things through the scanner without issue, and within two minutes, I was through.
After I cleared security, I headed to the first-class lounge. I showed my boarding pass to the woman at the front desk, and she beamed at me and welcomed me back. I was offered a drink as soon as I sat down at one of the tables, taking out my laptop.
“A beer, please,” I said, and the waitress smiled and nodded before walking away to fill my order.
Traveling first-class is an entirely different experience than flying coach. It felt as if I’d wasted years of precious hours waiting in line, either checking in or being checked out by security, wondering whether I’d ever see daylight again. And if that wasn’t enough, I still had to brave cattle-class. It took some crafty maneuvering for me to squeeze my tall frame into a seat seemingly designed for a hobbit, while my personal boundaries were usually violently shattered by those unfortunate enough to sit next to me; my only comfort being my inflatable neck support. I’d undoubtedly served my time.
But these days, I didn’t have any problem enjoying the finer things in life. It’s surprising how much more pleasant it is to fly when the journey is smooth sailing from start to finish; when there are no delays or lack of free drinks offered. I certainly had no complaints.
Of course, the road to success hadn’t been easy, but as the waitress brought my cold beer, beads of condensation trickling down the curved glass, I was reminded once again of how the grind had now paid off. It was worth all the late nights I’d spent chained to my computer, locking myself away for days on end, forcing myself to complete my novel and pushing forward until that blissful moment when I typed the last full-stop.
I recalled all the times I’d survived on dry bread and ramen noodles, trying my damnedest to avoid having to face my landlady pounding on the door, yet again, reminding me that my rent was due.
Yes, it was hard work that had brought me here. None of it merely landed in my lap. And although I’d been living the comfortable life for several years now, the cold beer I sipped still tasted just as welcome as the very one I’d drank the first time I’d sat here in the luxurious lounge.
And of course, hard work was the only thing that was going to keep me in first-class lounges, and avoiding long lines. So, I opened the laptop and spent the next hour editing my latest chapter. The story was developing nicely, and as I read over the words I’d written the previous night, I felt a familiar thrill of excitement beginning to build.
I’d grown rather fond of Fabian Ackroyd over the years. Sure, he tended to do things I’d have never expected and said things I’d never quite been prepared for him to say, but he was my creation. A little like my kid, and I was proud of him, no matter how much he might have driven me crazy. Right now, he was peering over a body lying on a gurney in a morgue, the sharp smell of formaldehyde stinging his nostrils. The case was taking its toll on him, and I felt a little guilty about it. My fingers flew over the keyboard and, although I’d only prepared myself to do some editing, I couldn’t help but continue with the story. I needed to know what happened next, as much as anyone else.
The waitress must have seen how engrossed I was, because after a while, she came over and asked if I needed anything else. She’d broken me out of my reverie, and I quickly glanced at my watch.
“Wow, that was fast,” I said. “I could have sworn I’d only been sitting here for five minutes.”
“I’d hate for you to miss your flight, Sir. Where are you heading today?”
“Athens,” I said. “I believe I should be boarding soon.”
“The Athens flight leaves in twenty-three minutes,” said the waitress. “You should make your way to the gate now.”
She was absolutely right. I closed my laptop and slid it back into my bag, drained the rest of my beer and hurried to the gate. I was thankful that she’d come over when she did, as the flight was already boarding, evident from the long line of people standing in front of Gate 9, patiently waiting their turn. I walked straight through to the front desk and flashed my cell phone. Then, I headed down the hallway and at the entrance to the plane, I turned left.
The laptop remained closed for the entire journey. Instead of working, I took off my watch, placed it on the side tray and reclined in my seat. I switched on the television in front of me and watched a movie. After a little while, the stewardess brought me a meal of steak and julienned potatoes, and after dinner, I settled down to sleep. With the gentle hum of the plane in the background and the lights dimmed low, I was soon fast asleep as we soared over the Atlantic Ocean at forty thousand feet.
By the time I landed in Athens, I’d been on the plane for ten hours, and yet I’d leaped forward a further seven, thanks to the time difference. It was early afternoon, and after a short wait in Athens, I boarded another plane to my ultimate destination. Next to me sat a little girl with huge blue eyes and blonde hair, who stared at me throughout the short journey. It made me miss Lily even more, and I calculated that by the time I landed, it’d be a reasonable time to call her.
The sweltering Greek heat hit me as I stepped off the small plane and stood at the top of the steps for a few seconds, my eyes closed, drawing in a deep breath. It was good to be back, and even better to be in the air-conditioned airport, where I was met by a stunning Greek woman with long dark hair drawn back into a sleek ponytail. She bashfully smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but stare back into her beautiful dark eyes. Her name badge read Eleni.
“Welcome to Santorini,” she said. “Please come this way, Sir. We have your luggage ready, and the driver is waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s good to be back. I’ve missed Greece very much.”
“Well, we are very pleased to have you here,” purred Eleni. She was indeed a sight for sore eyes. Or, should I say, for travel-weary eyes. Despite my sleep on the plane, my body was a little confused as to what time it was, and I was eager to get to the house where I could get into a cool shower.
My driver, Kostas, was friendly, but not too talkative, and in the back of his air-conditioned car I gulped down cold water and felt myself nodding off. I couldn’t shake the familiar happy feeling, though, of being here once more. Something about Greece filled me with a sense of wellbeing, of relaxation. My whole body seemed to exhale deeply, as if finally at rest.
The house had been locked up for months, and when I arrived, Kostas began taking the luggage out of the trunk while I opened the front door. Earlier in the day, the cleaner, Retha, had assured me that everything was ready for my arrival, and I was pleased to see she’d even cut fresh flowers and placed them in a vase on the hall table.
Kostas placed my three large suitcases next to the staircase and offered to take them upstairs to my room, but I assured him it was no bother.
“I can take it from here,” I said, slipping him a large tip. “Thank you very much for your help.”
He looked down at the cash with wide eyes and at first refused to take it, but I insisted. He thanked me profusely and left, and finally, after a long journey, I was home. It was nearly eight in the evening, and the sun was setting, the perfect time for me to sit out on the balcony and take in the beautiful scenery. I didn’t even bother taking my luggage upstairs; it could surely wait.
Retha had, as requested, filled the refrigerator with cold water and beers and I popped open the cap of an icy green bottle and walked up the stairs to the second floor. My bedroom was cool and dark, and as I pulled up the heavy shutter, the early evening light filled the room. I stepped outside onto the balcony, and the view made me smile.
Stretched out ahead of me, was a vast expanse of blue water. Sunlight shimmered on the surface as the giant red orb dipped into the ocean as it disappeared over the horizon. I could see several fishing trawlers making their way out to sea on their way for a night’s catch, and overhead, silhouettes of birds flew home. Other than that, there was nothing in front of me but the ocean. Miles and miles of water, calm and cool, twinkling as if in greeting. I raised my bottle in acknowledgment and sipped my cold beer. Damn, it was good.
From my pocket, I brought out my cell phone. The clock had already adjusted, and I was now on Greek time. My watch, though, I kept on Chicago time a little longer. Lily time. I opened the phone and found her number. It rang three times before she answered.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said; her bright voice warming my heart.
“Hey there, Pumpkin. What are you up to?”
“I’m going swimming in a few minutes,” she replied. “Mia left twenty minutes ago. She wanted to stay longer, but her mom had to go to the salon.”
I chuckled. “Never mind. You’ve just spent the last month with Mia.”
“I’ve told her I’ll call her every day from Greece,” Lily said. “Like, three times.”
“Doesn’t Mia have her own vacation plans for the summer?” I asked, wryly. “Or does she have to cancel everything to sit by the phone for three calls a day?”
“She’s my best friend, Daddy,” Lily reminded me. “It’s what BFFs do. She’s going to Vermont tomorrow. She wants to come to Greece with us next year. Can she?”
“I guess we’ll have to talk about it,” I replied. “Anyway, tell me about camp.”
“It’s good.”
“Is that it? That’s all you’ve got to say after a whole month away?”
“I’ve spoken to you nearly every day, Daddy!” my daughter protested.
I didn’t tell her that going a single day without talking to her was like torture and that I’d had to remind myself that she was growing up and needed a little independence. After all, she was eight years old now, and when I was that age, the last thing I’d wanted to do was report back to my own parents every single day as to what I’d been up to while at camp. Although now, I’d have given anything to have a conversation with them again.
“Are you excited about your vacation?” I asked.
“Yes. Is Yaya Maria there, too?”
I smiled at the affectionate name Lily had for her adopted grandmother. Knowing how much Maria doted on her, too, I could never see her as anything other than Lily’s beloved grandmother. After all, she’d been my mother since I was sixteen years of age.
“Yes, Yaya Maria’s going to be here in the next couple of days,” I said. “I’ll be on my own until then, sitting here and missing you.”
“When do I get on the plane?”
“Two more week. Fourteen sleeps.”
“Okay. Can’t wait!”
“George will pick you up from camp on the Tuesday. He and Molly will help you pack, and then you’ll go to the airport with Molly. I’ll be waiting for you when you arrive on Wednesday.”
“That sounds really complicated.”
“It’s really not,” I laughed. “Just hang tight at camp for another two weeks, and you’ll be here before you know it.”
I could hear the sound of a knock at the door on the other end of the line, and Lily informed me she had to go as it was time for her swim. “All right, Pumpkin,” I said. “See you soon. I love you.”
“Love you more, like S’mores,” she said to me as she always did, and then she was gone. I finished my beer and went inside to fetch my luggage from downstairs. The house was quiet now, but it would soon be full of life, filled with people for most of the summer ahead.
In the meantime, I cherished the thought of having a few days to myself. I was looking forward to the peace and quiet. But for now, all I wanted was the cold shower I’d been dreaming of all day.