The ticking of the clock in the kitchen grates on my nerves. I want to wrench it off the wall, pummel it with a hammer, then burn it in effigy.
YiaYia’s already stressed enough without me breaking shit and flying off into psychotic rages.
So, I stare at the untouched mug of coffee in my hands, willing myself to drink it and feel better.
Not that it will actually make me feel anything, but it’s better than doing nothing.
I’m just barely scraping by on nothing.
My skin prickles with the weight of eyes on me.
“What?” I yell.
“Nothing,” Mike answers quickly.
“Then, stop staring at me.”
He and Tini exchange a nervous glance. “I’m not staring. I was looking ahead of me. I can’t help it you’re sitting across the table.”
I’m surprised he doesn’t have me sitting on his lap. Ever since Alex confirmed it was really Rob who was caught having sex in the weight room on campus, Mike’s been up my ass like a damn tapeworm.
And yet, I’ve managed to gain fifteen pounds in the past two months. My graduation pictures look like shit.
It’s remarkable how quickly eating your feelings goes to your hips when you spent years starving in the pursuit of looking good for the cameras.
But, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m all that vested in the business degree I earned because I didn’t know what else to major in. And I’m sure as shit not posing for anything ever again.
Not even a selfie.
Bachelor’s degree, yes. Social media, no.
See? I learned something in the past four years.
And Papou was so proud.
An unchecked sob works its way up my throat.
Tini jumps up when the doorbell rings, anxious to abandon the awkwardness at the table. “I’ll get it!”
Fine by me. I can’t handle another well-meaning Greek lady from church, peddling a tray of pastitsio or moussaka.
Mike glances at the kitchen island, overflowing with disposable aluminum trays. “Where the hell are we gonna put another one?”
“Maybe we can take some of them to the homeless shelter.”
“Half the Church ladies volunteer there. If you donate their tray, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
Mike knows how they roll. And he’s not even Greek by blood.
“Invite your old teammates?” I shrug. Most of them have moved onto greener pastures, but there’s still a few roaming around campus, waiting to begin the rest of their lives.
I don’t care what we do with the damn food, to be honest. I want my grandfather back. I want to see my grandmother with a smile on her face, not tears in her eyes. I don’t want to be awaiting the imminent arrival of my entire humongous family who will no doubt pester me about every detail of my life, most of which I really don’t feel like sharing.
The wounds are still too raw. Ideally, I wanted to wait until enough scar tissue had grown over them to withstand the prodding.
Irony is such a bitch to me these days.
As voices approach the kitchen, it becomes clear it’s too late to cut and run.
The first wave has already arrived.
I focus on the milky brown liquid in my mug, bracing myself for the onslaught.
Maybe I can tell them I’m going to move home for a while to help YiaYia deal with the loss.
Sorry, Papou.
There’s nothing like using your grandfather’s death as an excuse for your shitty life and lack of plans to feel like a complete failure.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hold my breath, and wait for it.
The sound of Mike’s chair sliding against the floor alerts me he’s standing to run interference until I can get my shit together.
Thank you, Mike.
“What are you doing here?”
The gruff tone of his voice prompts me to snap my eyes open. I didn’t expect him to be an asshole to my family as a ploy to make me look better.
Instead of a flurry of faces and movement, the only sight I’m met with is Tini standing in the doorway…and Rob behind her.
“Evie called and said YiaYia wanted me to be a pallbearer. I got here as soon as I could.”
The breath whooshes out of my lungs with an audible rasp.
His broad shoulders fill the doorframe. He’s so much more of a powerful man than he was the first time he entered this room. Memories of long-ago homework assignments skitter through my mind, replaced by slow dancing to Christmas music, family dinners around the table, quiet nights spent planning our future during a sweltering summer heatwave on break from school. The mental images tumble over each other, swirling like leaves in the wind, which inevitably blows away everything not strong enough to withstand the force.
“The funeral isn’t until Tuesday. Come back then.” Mike sits again in his chair, seemingly satisfied Rob will leave.
“I’m already here. I’m staying.” Rob crosses his arms over his chest.
“Guys,” Tini steps between them, raising her hands like they’re some invisible force field, which will keep them from coming to blows. She chances a quick glance at me. “Let’s keep this civil. Mama and YiaYia will be back from the funeral home soon. No one needs you two at each other’s throats.”
Rob nods, then directs his lethal eyes at me. “Evie?”
My mouth opens and closes several times, but no sound escapes. What does he want from me? A to-do list of preparations that still need to be made? Perhaps a run-down of the typical events during a Greek Orthodox funeral, so he knows what to expect? Assurance of asylum while he’s in town?
I have no doubt he has zero intention of stepping foot on his father’s property.
“Shouldn’t you be in Sacramento?” Mike asks, trying his best to affect a bored tone of voice.
“Shouldn’t you be in Albany?” Rob counters.
Tini rolls her eyes, making quick strides to reclaim her seat beside me. She offers my leg a squeeze of solidarity under the table. “I do so love a good male pissing contest.”
Her overly loud declaration does nothing to decelerate the beating of my heart nor the stand-off unfolding before us.
Mike shrugs. “I don’t have to be there until next week.”
“Same.”
“Don’t you have more important things to do?”
“Nothing’s more important than taking care of my family.”
“Great.” Mike nods. “You should go see them. They live about a mile away. I can give you directions if you forgot your old address.”
Rob’s fake laughter bounces off the walls. “Good one! How about if I give you directions to the nearest bridge to jump off?”
Mike’s chair clatters to the floor with the violence of his movements. In a heartbeat, the boys are in each other’s faces, chests heaving, nostrils flared.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here, Falls.”
“And you don’t have enough balls to keep me away, Mitchell.”
“We’ll see about that…”
Before Mike can make good on his threat, I pull him away by the shirt, unaware of the moments that brought me from my chair to here.
“What did I tell you?” I hiss at him.
“I didn’t call him,” Mike defends himself. “You did. Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because YiaYia asked me to,” I grit out. My gaze falls to the floor. I don’t dare look at Rob. “They don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Mike asks, his tone void of patience.
Tini appears at my side. “She hasn’t told anyone about their break up.”
“How do you know about it, then?” Rob asks haltingly.
“I’m her sister,” Tini huffs. “She tells me everything.”
“Everything?” Rob’s voice bears unmistakable fear.
I peek at him through my eyelashes, but his expression remains unreadable, his shoulders tense as he waits for an answer.
He relaxes with a barely noticeable shake of my head.
A pang of guilt shoots down my spine, knowing he thought I might have sold him out.
I always keep your secrets, Rob.
Tini wraps her slender arm around my shoulders. “Papou’s health has been failing for the past few months. We’ve all been taking turns with doctor visits, overnight stays at the hospital, and preparing for the inevitable. It hasn’t really been the right time for Evie to bring it up. Everyone will get the picture after you move to California, and we never hear from you again. For now, let’s all just focus on getting through the next few days without any bickering or fist fights. Okay?”
My gratitude for Tini stepping up evaporates with the sensation of strong arms wrapping around both of us.
“Let’s get something straight, Little Miss Papageorgiou,” Rob whispers, his head between hers and mine. “You are never getting rid of me, no matter what. I’ll always be here for whatever you need, any time. That’s what being part of a family means.”
He straightens, releasing us from his hold. “Now, what do you girls need?”
My tongue remains fixed in place. I’m too afraid to speak. Anything I might say could wreck this newly brokered peace treaty.
Tini tips her head back and forth, seeming to think it over. “Mama and YiaYia are at the funeral home, finalizing the details of the viewing and burial. Priority number one is the amount of family that’s about to descend on the house. Not everyone lives in town, and we need to figure out where we’re going to put them all.”
“I suggested getting a block of rooms at the hotel,” Mike provides. “They won’t let me pay for them.”
Rob eyes us, a knowing glint in his teal irises. “Did either of you just land multi-million dollar signing bonuses?”
Tini shakes her head. “Mama will flip if we let you pay for those rooms, and you know it. Greek pride is nothing to mess with.”
“That’s why it’s better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.” Rob smiles, the dimple in his cheek further assaulting me. “How many rooms do we need?”
“We’re expecting about sixty people. We were just going to divide them up between the family who live in town, but we’re waiting for everyone to get here to make those arrangements.”
Rob’s eyes pop out of his skull, his gaze bouncing from Tini to me to Mike. “There have never been that many people here at any holiday. Even if they don’t stay, how are they all going to fit in this house at any given moment?”
“That’s what I said,” Mike nods, suddenly seeming excited to have someone in his corner. In all fairness to him, it’s difficult for an outsider to be thrust into the living, breathing entity that is Greek family politics.
“I don’t know how we’re going to do it,” Tini whines. “The last big family event I can remember was Thea Elena’s wedding, but I was only ten, so I was more focused on the cake and dancing than the logistics.”
“I remember that,” Mike smiles, then focuses his gaze on me. “That was one of the first family events you invited me to as your new brother. There were more people at that reception than I’d ever seen in my whole life in one place, and I couldn’t understand a word half of them were saying. They kept pinching my cheeks, trying to feed me baklava, and calling me the wrong name. I was so overwhelmed I never corrected them.” His eyes lose focus as he clearly tries to pull the word from his memory banks. “Philip? Felix? Something that started with an F sound.” He shakes his head, laughing. “Every time I’d introduce myself as Mike, they’d kiss my cheeks, then call me something else.”
My face burns with realization, even as Tini breaks out in hysterics beside me.
“Filos?” she supplies.
Mike snaps his fingers. “That’s it! Is that the Greek translation of Michael?”
“No,” Tini wheezes. “The Greek translation of Michael is pretty much the same. They were calling you Evie’s boyfriend. Filos means boyfriend.”
Mike grimaces. “In that case, I hope they don’t remember me and think we’re still together. No offense, Evie, but I’m not really into incest.”
“You’re not really related,” Tini points out, still giggling. “You should prepare yourself, though. You might look completely different than you did back then, but they will remember your name.”
“Fine.” Mike throws his head back on a sigh. “I’ll fake it ‘til I make it. It’s only for a few days. Whatever makes this easier to get through.”
“Yeah, hi.” Rob’s rough voice redirects everyone’s attention. He’s holding his cell phone to his ear, a stormy expression on his face. “Do you have any rooms available for the next…”
His cloudy blue eyes meet mine, and he mouths, “How many days?”
I cringe, knowing the likely cost of the amount of rooms for the length we’ll need. It’s going to take me months of saving to repay him.
Tini holds up four fingers, sparing me the necessity of communication.
He nods, never releasing me from the prison of his gaze. “Four days for approximately sixty people?”
There’s a pause while he listens.
“Great.” He cradles his phone against his shoulder as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket. “Reserve them under Papageorgiou, please. No, I’d like to pay in advance, in full.”
We watch in silence as he rattles off the payment information and informs the hotel the arrivals will be spaced out over the course of the next twenty-four hours.
“Thank you.” He hangs up, still staring directly at me. “That’s done. What next?”
“I would’ve paid for that.”
“We’ll pay you back.”
Tini and Mike trip over each other’s responses.
Rob waves them off. “That was never part of the plan.”
His choice of words combines with the weight of his gaze. My shoulders slump under the burden, and I return to staring at my feet.
“Got any bright ideas about what to do with all this food, o wise one?” Mike’s voice hints at the resentment he’s not ready to let go of, but at least he seems to understand we’re all in this together. For the next few days at least.
Rob’s response is immediate. “Is the freezer in the garage already full?”
“Oh, shit,” Tini murmurs. “We didn’t think of that.”
“Let’s pile them in there.” Rob’s feet make a beeline for the kitchen island. “That way we can take them out as needed. We’ll probably use them all if we’re expected to feed an army for almost a week.”
And so the rest of the day goes.
Tini provides the to-do list; Mike and Rob fall into their old roles as teammates, getting shit done while maintaining a frosty level of civility.
As the family rolls in, the greatest, if unintended, side-effect of the boys’ presence becomes clear. No one has time to question Tini’s life choices, or mine, when there are NFL draftees to interrogate about their impending celebrity status.
Sure, there’s an underlying current of grief to every conversation, but Mike and Rob play up the distraction of more exciting topics such as moving to a new city, starting their pro careers, becoming millionaires overnight.
They’re millionaires.
Even I haven’t come to terms with that yet, so I certainly can’t blame my myriad of aunts, uncles, and cousins for being star-struck by the guys.
Throughout the day, I watch them both. They still seem like the men I’ve known for years. Good men. The type who would give you the shirt off their backs if asked.
They wouldn’t bat an eyelash if said shirt was a designer label, which costs more than my entire wardrobe.
The way they fawn over YiaYia only reinforces that belief.
She’s sitting at the kitchen table, Mama on one side and Rob on the other. He holds her hand, rubbing it gently as she fights her grief.
The rest of the chairs are occupied by my aunts and uncles. Mike’s in the living room with Tini, entertaining my cousins with stories about meeting some of their favorite athletes during the draft.
The timer on the oven dings, signaling the moussaka is done reheating, so I get up to pull it out and start serving dinner.
Mama and her siblings have been laughing for hours over stories of growing up under Papou’s guidance, but as the extended family have trickled away to their hotel rooms for the night, the memories have grown increasingly more intimate.
“Did I ever tell you the story about the arranged marriage you were meant for, Diana?”
Mama laughs at YiaYia’s question. “No. Was this something Dad set up?”
While I wait for the casserole to cool, I lean against the counter and watch their interaction. This is definitely a story I’ve never heard before. No one has arranged marriages anymore in our family. Since Mama is the oldest of five children, she broke the old tradition for the rest of her generation.
Not that it turned out well, but the rest of her siblings are happily married to their original spouses.
YiaYia nods, a soft smile spreading across her wrinkled face. “It was your first boyfriend who gave him the idea. He came to the house to take you on your very first date. Your father was so angry the young man showed up without flowers or any gift for you. He did not like the way he looked at you and spoke to us with so little respect. After you left, your father said he would not allow any of you to choose your own mates. He would make you think that you held all the control, of course, but if they did not pass his inspection, he would make them an offer they could not refuse to disappear, eh?”
Everyone laughs. She makes Papou sound more like an Italian mobster than a Greek steel worker.
“I’ll never forget the day I asked him for his permission to marry Elena,” Uncle Liam chuckles. “I thought I was going to throw up, I was so nervous. I must have had sweat stains on my shirt. After I blurted out the question, he just stared at me.”
More laughter bounces around the table because we all remember Papou’s perfected glare. That man could have been thinking about puppies and rainbows, but you’d never know by the hard look in his eyes. He liked to screw with us by making us believe he was angry even when he wasn’t.
“It keeps you on your toes.”
“I didn’t think he was going to answer, so I started spouting off a list of all the reasons I loved her, and exactly how I’d take care of her and provide for our family. Then, and only then, did he break character and hug me like he’d planned to give me his blessing all along.”
More stories of Papou’s apparently secret interference in his children’s romantic lives are shared, but everyone tactfully avoids bringing up my long-gone father.
YiaYia cups Rob’s cheek with a shaky hand. “He was hoping to live long enough to put the fear of God into you, too. He would have said yes to your proposal, of course, but he would have made you work for it.”
My heart stutters in my chest, and I turn away, staring blindly at the casserole in front of me. Papou must never have told anyone about our secret marriage.
A loud slap to the table precedes Theo Nick’s words. “I’m next in line, Falls! If you want to get to my niece, you’ll have to go through me now! Just because you’re a rich NFL quarterback doesn’t mean you’re off the hook!”
“I’m her mother!” Mama yelps. “This isn’t the middle ages. My permission means more than any man’s in the family.”
A lively argument about feminism that would normally have me jumping to put in my two cents floats beyond the reach of my comprehension, until Rob’s quiet voice puts a stop to the conversation.
“He already gave me his permission. Years ago. He made me work for it, too.”
Silence descends on the kitchen, but Rob doesn’t say anything else.
“Of course, he gave it to you,” Mama soothes. “He loved you, and always approved of you for Evie.”
“That does not mean you need to rush things,” YiaYia clucks. “You are still very young, and have much to learn before you are ready for marriage.”
I’ve kept such careful control over my emotions today, but YiaYia’s words do me in. My chest aches, knowing Rob and I will never be ready. We’ll never learn the lessons my grandparents wanted us to.
Warmth radiates at my back, and a familiar scent fills my nostrils. Closing my eyes does nothing to stop tears from sliding down my cheeks.
The feel of his hand wrapping around mine to pry the spatula from my grip jerks forth the first sob.
Rob’s warm breath fans over my neck as he speaks. “Let me.” His lips tickle my ear with movement. “Let me serve you. Go sit and relax.”
I nod and step away. No one needs my sorrow salting their dinner.
In a surprising turn of events, I have no appetite. So, I wander into the living room and listen to Mike’s stories about the draft until my eyelids grow heavy.
“Baby.”
A hand on my shoulder shatters my tenuous grasp on sleep.
“Come on. It’s late. Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.”
I blink around me at the dark, empty living room. The only light filters in from the kitchen.
“Everyone else has left or gone to sleep.” He pulls me up, supporting my unstable body against his own.
We ascend the stairs in silence.
Dread washes over me as I realize my first critical error. If we want to keep the ruse we’re still together, Rob will have to sleep in my room. He has whenever we’re home on breaks, ever since Jackson’s trial.
YiaYia will be the first to suspect something’s amiss if she finds him sprawled out on the couch.
No one will open my door to check on us throughout the night. I cling to that saving grace as I climb in bed, fully dressed, and curl into a ball on the far side of the mattress.
Rob closes the door, then plunges the room into darkness before sliding under the blankets beside me. “Would you like me to sleep on the floor?”
I shake my head, knowing he’ll be able to detect the motion.
He’s done so much today. Asking him to sleep on the carpet would be cruel punishment in response to his generosity.
“Are you ever going to speak to me again?”
Against my better judgment, I roll over to face him. “What do you mean? You’ve been here all day.”
He reaches out, brushing some of my wayward hair off my face. Such a familiar gesture, it both warms me yet pummels my fragile heart. “And yet this is the first time I’ve heard your voice directed at me since I got here.”
I shrug. “Just trying to make it easier on you.”
His eyes search mine. My vision adjusts to the darkness, and more of his face comes into focus. “It would make it easier on me if you’d tell me what you need.”
“You came when I called. You’ve gone above and beyond all day to ensure everyone’s comfort. I can’t thank you enough. But, I will pay you back for the hotel rooms as soon as I can.”
He scoots closer on the mattress until heat from his larger body seeps into my skin. “I will always come when you call. You don’t have to thank me, and frankly, offering to pay me back is insulting. You’re still not telling me what you need. I’m here for you, Evie. Please talk to me.”
“I…” My throat tightens with emotion, but I swallow it down. “I don’t need anything. There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Liar.” With that he pulls me against him, banding his arms around me in a tight embrace.
His touch seems surer, less hesitant. No matter how hard I try, I can’t fight the feeling it all seems so tainted somehow.
Grief battles against my emotional lockdown. My beloved Papou is gone, and I simply have no willpower left to push away Rob’s comfort.
“Ssh,” he whispers into my hair. “I know. I know it hurts, but I promise it gets easier. The pain never goes away, but it lessens with time. You’ll learn to live with it. Mostly because there’s no other choice. Life goes on.”
Though I know he’s speaking of his own experience with losing his grandfather, it strikes me his words are true for so many things in life.
It’s ironic he’s giving me advice on how to live without…him.
Fuckin’ irony.