Nicolai's Daughters by Stella Leventoyannis Harvey

used to tell him it was because of what had happened during the war. “After Kalavryta he tried to get away, but we met and fell in love, so he stayed.”
    â€œBut that was a long time ago,” he’d said.
    â€œNicky, some things are not so easy to forget.”
    Nicolai knew about Kalavryta. But his father had been just a boy: couldn’t he get over whatever it was that happened?
    Nicolai’s father forked a slice of zucchini. He swallowed without chewing and bit at a hunk of bread. His arm lay heavy on the table, circling his plate as if he expected someone to snatch it away.
    His father met Nicolai’s gaze.
    Nicolai turned towards his mother. “Do you know if Achilles is still here?”

4
    2010
    Alexia walked out of the airport towards the parking lot, flanked by Christina and Solon, their arms locked in hers. The rest of the family followed, trying to keep up.
    She felt vaguely like a prisoner being pushed and prodded into the streets of a foreign country under the control of strangers, not because of anything she’d done, but because her father couldn’t keep his pants zipped. Two aunts nodded in her direction while whispering to each other, hands over their mouths. She could imagine their questions. What was she doing here? Why now? Why didn’t she come before, when her father was alive? It’s not my fault, she wanted to say. “That’s finished for me,” her father would say whenever she reminded him of his promise to take her to Greece.
    Alexia picked up her pace, tried to wiggle out of her aunt and uncle’s grip. Two younger cousins kicked a soccer ball in front of her. She tried to avoid it and accidentally stepped on the back of her cousin’s shoe. He stumbled forward, his sock a shock of white against the grimy pavement, his crumpled shoe trapped under her foot.
    â€œWalk a little faster,” Christina said to one of the boys. “And put the ball away. This is not a place to play.”
    One of the boys turned. Solon let Alexia’s arm fall. He raised his hand and shook it. The boy nodded as if he’d understood without anything being said. He apologized, slipped into his shoe and picked up his ball, then ran ahead with his cousin. Her relatives had taken her chrysanthemums and her bag. She stuck her hand into her pocket.
    Christina leaned into Alexia. She wanted to know if Granville Island was still beautiful. “Such a clean place, no?” She pinched her nose, scrunched up her face. “Nothing smells. And everything you want, they have.”
    â€œ Ella, why you need clean?” Solon shouted. “We are strong because we eat everything, from anywhere. We no sick, never.” With his free hand, he thumped his chest. His cough was loud and sudden. It stopped after he spat a bit of phlegm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
    â€œBut if you see it,” Christina implored, nodding to Alexia for support, “you like.”
    â€œI like nothing. My home is only thing.”
    â€œHe afraid of airplane.” Christina shrugged. “It is true.”
    â€œNo.” Solon raised his chin as if to dismiss her.
    â€œHe think if he leave home, bad things happen. I tell him they happen here, too.”
    â€œDid leaving help your brother?” Solon asked. “Tell me.”
    â€œSolon think if he never leave Greece, he live forever. Death finds us any place.”
    Solon turned to face Christina. Alexia and Christina stopped. The rest of the family gathered in close around them. “What you know about what I think?” He threw his prayer-clasped hands at Christina.
    She shook her head, her mouth opened in a weak smile. “Your uncle is very hard man to live with.”
    He nodded as though he’d scored a point, linked his arm inside Alexia’s again and the three began to walk. One aunt clucked.
    Alexia peered down on her uncle’s slicked-back hair. Shuttered through his thin