A Life In A Moment (11 page)

I wasn’t
moved. I had distanced myself from my own life. It seemed as though I
heard him telling a story about someone else. Pavlos, though, had
tears in his eyes, and I felt terrible about our visit to the
cemetery.

«It’s
a pity. We’re two brothers that lived like only children. We
missed out on our best years together. Will we ever make up for
them?» he wondered.

We smiled
at each other. Two smiles of compassion, promise and faith.

 
31

That
night, I went to the pub to help Pavlos and Sylvia.

«Come
on in», he said behind the bar.

I was
hesitant.

«What
are you looking at me for? Come on in. You won’t learn to swim
unless you dive in the deep end!»

At first,
I couldn’t move. Ignorance had bound my feet together. As the
hours went by, though, I quickly learnt the ropes of bartending and
managing the pub.

He was
right. It wasn’t a difficult job, but it required care, speed
and a good mood. I was careful, I learnt to work with increasing
speed, and, as for the good mood, I could easily slide it on, like a
mask, whenever I needed to.

«You’re
doing just fine!» Sylvia told me at some point, working next to
me.

«Thank
you», I said and, unconsciously, looked down the length of her
legs beneath the short skirt.

She
smiled knowingly, and I realised she’d seen my furtive glance.
But even if she hadn’t seen it, any one of her smiles would
have seemed sly. The innocence I had discerned when I first met her,
was nothing but my intuition’s perception of her pure soul. Her
facade
, on the other hand,
was adorned with
pure
sensuousness.

 
32

The
following mornings I dedicated to seeing London. I was the tourist
and Samantha — born and raised in the city — was the
guide.

On the
first day, we caught the bus downtown. It was one of those
double-deckers and we sat at the top, so I could have a better view.
I saw that the initial picture I had formed of the city, based on
Hackney, began to change as we neared the centre of London. The
buildings seemed to grow bigger and taller, as though inspired by a
fairy tale. Were it not for the seas of steel and glass, you would
easily travel back in time to the days of Dickens, searching amongst
the crowds for Oliver Twist. But now, it was difficult. Dickens’
muddy roads had been paved with asphalt, carts had turned into cars,
and men were clad, not in rags, but in outfits by famous brands and
chain stores.

I fell in
love with London. There was something magical about it. If you walked
away from the crowded main streets, you would discover a small,
friendly town with towering buildings. It wasn’t as busy or
dirty as many think. On the contrary, there was a strong aura of
nature to it, with trees and parks everywhere, fountains and ponds,
and of course the Thames, the muddy snake running across the city.

I
spent three wonderful mornings with Samantha. Literally speaking, we
wasted away our soles. We walked along South Bank, lay down on the
Hyde Park grass, sipped coffee in Covent Garden, strolled around
Soho, dazzled by the Piccadilly lights, wandered around Camden’s
flea market, squeezed onto the Tube
,
dimmed our hunger with sandwiches at Trafalgar Square...

One of the
days, after we’d crossed the Thames through Tower Bridge, we
had coffee at the little café beneath it, which had once been
the coal storeroom for the steam engine which opened the bridge.

 
«So,
how did you enjoy it?»

«It’s
great!»

«I’m
glad you’re so excited about it. We are too used to it; we take
it for granted. Probably, you’ll feel the same way after some
years...»

We
discussed many things about London. She talked to me about the
history of the city, the fire that broke out in 1666, the Middle
Ages, the heyday of the English theatre and the bombings during the
War. I listened to her while, outside the window, my imagination ran
wild, with flames devouring the city, knights riding their horses,
heralds announcing the premiere of Shakespeare’s new play, and
planes dropping bombs in the middle of the night.

To
me, London seemed like an imperious old lady who, after many trials
and tribulations, sits proudly before her mirror, brushing her long,
white hair before she goes to sleep. London could
be
nothing else but
a proud, noble old lady. 

Our words
took us to Greece. I spoke to Samantha about how I felt, how distant
seemed what had happened a few days before, and how optimistic I was
about my new life in London.

«Samantha...»

She
realised I wanted to say 
thank you
.

«I
feel like I’ve walked into your lives and changed everything.»

«That’s
true. But it’s a pleasant change. That’s why 
we 
have
to thank
you
.
Especially me.»

«Why’s
that?»

She
smiled. «You couldn’t possibly know but, over the past
two years, ever since Paul met you, he’s changed so much. He’s
more pleasant, easygoing, calm, more positive. Not that he wasn’t
all along, but now... he’s just different. Wonderfully
different. And all thanks to you and your finally meeting each other.
He wanted it so desperately, that many times he thought he’d
just go straight to Greece and talk to you in person.»

«Why
didn’t he do it?»

«He
was afraid because he had no idea how you’d react. The risk of
being rejected by you terrified him. He had such high hopes. Your
aunt was scared about the idea of a reunion as well, so he kept on
postponing it.»

Her words
strengthened our bond. I’d known her only for a few days, but
already I saw her as my sister, like a second Natalia.

«Did
you really want to stop work or was it because of me?»

«Are
you kidding? I definitely wanted to stop working! It’s been
months since I last woke up in the morning and stayed home. With that
crazy schedule of ours, I saw Paul only early in the morning or late
at night. Or at the pub, but only for a moment. You came and
redressed the balance, in a way. So, I should be the one to thank
you.»

I
smiled at her an inaudible 
You’re
welcome
.

When we
got back from our walk on that third day, I felt another Vassilis
trying to enter my body. I surrendered to this new one. He was more
relaxed, less scared and more passionate. I put on this new face, in
hopes that other people would see it. I thirsted with lust for new
encounters and experiences.

I had
always thought I cared only for calm, gentle, beautiful things.
London made me realise I actually preferred the noise and rush of the
city, the tension of my job and reckless one-night stands. 

It was as
if I had opened a chest holding, not a treasure, but
boundless freedom. A freeing kind of anarchy against everything and
anything. Soon, I would be turning twenty, and I rushed headlong into
the life that lay before me.

 
33

That same
evening, I arrived at the pub at ten minutes to five. Sylvia had
arrived earlier.

I examined
her furtively, walking to the bar. Perched luxuriously atop a tall
barstool, she seemed to simply be whiling away the time until we
started work. 

The
shortness of red skirt lengthened her already long, shapely legs. A
crisp, white cotton blouse completed her outfit, three buttons opened
to reveal her perfect cleavage.

«Hi»,
she said as I sat next to her.

«Hi,
Sylvia. How are you doing?»

«I’m
fine», she said indifferently, crossing her legs. 

I almost
blurted out a response the comme il faut Vassilis would have
kept to himself. The brand new Bill, though, was different. He had
resolved to regret, not what he had done, but what he hadn’t.

«Nice
legs...»

She seemed
surprised. She leant towards me and whispered:

«You’re
too young for such things.»

«Young?
You’re wrong.»

«Really?
Prove it.»

From that
moment, we embarked upon a regular game; a game of provocation and
challenges, without rules or a definite purpose. It was an outlet for
the pressures at work. We relished it, for the more we played the
more we won.

 
34

I began to
build my everyday life in London. I would wake up in the morning,
have coffee with Samantha, do the shopping we needed, go out for a
walk downtown or drop by the pub to sit with Pavlos and Bob. It was
the only way we could see one another, with those shifts of ours. 

It didn’t
take me long to learn all the secrets of the job and familiarise
myself with the customers. Every night, I created a relaxed,
enjoyable atmosphere, hoping to live up to my brother’s
expectations. I did just fine.

With
Sylvia, more than workmates, we became friends. We spent hours
together, and at nights, when the pub emptied out and we finished up
our chores, we chatted about everything, even about personal things.
She was a free spirit and a free body. Perfect catalysts for our game
of chance and challenge.

One night,
egged on by the rowdy crowd, we were led to the shed. Hidden behind
the clamour of jibes and jokes, we tore off our clothes, possessed.
Forsaking any pretence at tenderness, we broke into each other with
dangerous urgency, rocking the bench in the darkness. The night held
no emotion for either of us; and it was this very absence of
sentiment and attachment that I took most pleasure from.

Sylvia
literally
lived
her sexuality — raw, urgent, exquisite. She relished sex,
whether heartfelt or not. She shared her erotic experiences with such
ease, it was like talking about the weather or how she’d spent
the day. Shameless and experimental, she requested new moments and
reenactments of memorised ones. She was an incredible woman.
Beautiful and endlessly, inventively sensuous.

The actual
situation seemed strange when I thought about it, but the nature of
our relationship was beautiful. It was honest. We both knew what we
wanted from each other and there were no hidden agendas. Within the
ten months of our strange affair, I learnt about women more than any
other girlfriend would have taught me in ten years.

«I
really value what we have», she confessed one morning, stroking
her ample breasts, while we were both lying in bed.

«Me,
too.»

«I
wasn’t impressed with you when you first came to the pub with
Paul. You seemed like a little boy...», she said, throwing me
that provocative look she never lost.

I smiled
at her slyly. «I am a little boy. Do you want to play with me?»
I said, experimenting on how easily I could melt her into
surrendering.

She was
right, though. I was a little boy when I first went to London; but,
since then, I had matured rapidly. I had shaken off that old
inclination of mine to organise the present, and put the future
into perspective. London taught me that life cannot be controlled
according to lists or agendas. Now, I was a relaxed, carefree
guy. I had good friends, occasional lovers and a self that suited me.
I was free. I experimented constantly, seeking new experiences and
encounters quite fearlessly — though always in moderation.

It was one
of the best, most defining times in my life.

 
35

Four years
passed. Four entire years. Much as I had drunk from the glass of
life, I hadn’t quite yet managed to slake my thirst for new
experiences. 

Twenty-three
years old! 
I thought to myself,
looking at the candles on my birthday cake. I smiled. I was living a
good life and I was satisfied.

There was
something missing, though...

I recalled
a scene four years before, when I was nearing my first month in
England. With a heavy heart, I had picked up the phone to call
Natalia and announce my decision to live in London for good. 

After a
painful pause, I had heard her mumble:

«...Why?»

«Because
everything is better here. I’m settled and happy. I’m
with my brother, and I work with him at the pub... I’m having a
great time, Natalia.»

«What
about here? You weren’t having a good time here?»

«I
was. But now I don’t know if I would, like I used to. I’ve
changed. I see things differently now. Do you know what I mean?»

I tried to
explain that it wasn’t an easy decision, and that it might take
forever to understand. She would simply have to live with this new
situation, and continue living her own life. 

Since
then, we stayed in regular contact; I told her about my life, she
told me about hers, but neither of us spoke the entire truth. We kept
secrets from each other. I held back on what might distress her or
anger her. She concealed something which would make me happy. She
kept it a secret until she was completely sure of it herself. And
then, she called to let me know that her and Thanos were in love.

I
was overjoyed! The night I left Greece, I remember whispering to
Thanos 
Take care of Natalia. I
trust only you. 
He had found the
finest way to do it.