Good Greek Girls Don't by Georgia Tsialtas Page A

have long. Ding dong. I don’t have long at all.
    â€˜About that much time.’ Katerina runs to the door before the kids get there.
    Please don’t let that be him. Please let him be the last to arrive so this night won’t drag on for an eternity.
    Please, God, just let him be one of the late arrivals I swear I will behave myself as long as he isn’t the first to arrive.
    â€˜Despina, how you my girl?’ Thank you, God, it’s Katerina’s mum. I guess I’d better stick to my word and behave. I don’t want to be struck by lightning or have my karma come back and bite me on the bum.
    â€˜I’m well, Thia. How are you?’ Kiss, kiss. Katerina’s mum thinks I’m absolutely perfect, a living doll for all the help that I have given her daughter today. But like everyone else, she too wonders why I am still single. I’ve given up trying to explain to her that I choose to be single.
    An hour later things are going well. The crowd is slowly starting to arrive, but no sign of the infamous Chris. Maybe he’s come down with some twenty-four hour bug. That would serve Katerina right – all of her planning and scheming down the drain. Her parents are here, so are the in-laws, the brothers, sisters, partners and children. The backyard looks like a day care centre with all the kids running around the barbecue and Katerina’s husband, George, and his brother Manoli desperately trying to keep them all from harms way while cooking the meat and sucking back their Carlton Coldies. All in all, a pretty average night. And no sign of Chris. Maybe he got wise to Katerina’s game and bailed on her. That would serve her right. Yippee. I’m so happy, I’m practically skipping to the door because the doorbell rang a minute ago and everyone has their hands full with kids and dirty nappies that they can’t get to it.

    I must be being punished for something I did in a previous life. In my blind relief at the thought of Chris not coming, I’d not considered the fact that the person who rang the doorbell might be him. Good one, Desi.
    And now I’m standing here staring at him. Brain, please don’t fail me now. I need something smart, something witty, something ‘me’.
    â€˜Hi, come on in.’ What the hell was that? Real witty, Desi.
    â€˜Hi.’ The poor guy barely knows where to look. I don’t know why, I’m not showing that much cleavage am I? Quick glance confirms just a subtle hint of cleavage –can’t help it that I have ample.
    â€˜Desi right?’ He knows my name. Now that means one of two things. Either he has a really good memory from the baptism or Katerina has been flapping her gums. Probably the latter.
    â€˜Yeah, that’s right. You’re um … ’ Good line, always works. ‘Sorry, I’m really bad with names.’ As if. Anyone who knows me knows that I can still remember the names of my kindergarten classmates. Coy giggle on queue.
    â€˜Chris.’ Like I had forgotten.
    â€˜Come through, Chris.’ Poor bastard is so loaded down with cakes and plates that his mother must have sent that he can barely juggle them. I can’t let him fall flat on his face with them, can I? Can I? How I wish my conscience would take a flying leap. I grab one parcel. ‘Let me help you, Chris.’
    I can see Katerina grinning as we walk towards the kitchen. How I hate her right now. She looks so smug.
    I’ll show her. I have to.
    â€˜Thanks, Desi.’ Chris looks relieved as we walk through the kitchen and dump the parcels. He does the rounds of the women and heads out the back to do some male bonding, and I head straight for Katerina to do some female bonding, that could easily lead to female bashing – metaphorically speaking of course.
    â€˜Kati.’ I corner her. ‘What have you been telling him about me?
    â€˜Nothing, Des. Why?’ She actually looks