Nicolai's Daughters by Stella Leventoyannis Harvey Page B

asked.
    â€œNever, if we do not get out of this parking lot,” Katarina said. “You will see when we see.”
    Christina, sweat on her brow and hands on both hips, translated the discussion where she could. The conversation got louder and harder to follow as one person talked over another. Alexia stared at the thin line of mountains in the distance, barely noticeable above the smog. Her eyes stung. She was sure she could taste the smog too. She imagined this was what diesel fuel must taste like.
    After several minutes, Christina said, Ella, and Alexia’s relatives took this as a sign to clamber into the van. Alexia gazed at the cramped space and the vacant spot left for her beside Katarina.
    â€œWe are used to being on top of each other,” Christina said. “You get used, too.”
    â€œI never did,” Maria said.
    â€œYou special,” Katarina said. “You told us all the time.”
    The rest laughed and Maria feigned a smile.
    Alexia crammed herself into the van beside Katarina. Three sat abreast in the back seat, another three in the middle row and now there were three of them in the row behind the front seat. Christina sat in the driver’s seat. She’d won the argument with Solon over who would drive. Sweat around her neck had dried into a white line. She pulled out a large hanky from her purse and wiped her face, neck and hands and placed it under her leg.
    Solon set Alexia’s bag on her lap. “No room in back,” he muttered and closed the door. He jumped into the passenger seat. The heavy bag wrinkled her pants and lay against her chest. She smelled her own sweat and the sickly scent of chrysanthemums, even though they’d been stowed into the back with the picnic supplies.
    Katarina and Zak were tall like Alexia but fleshier. Their tanned faces and necks furrowed deeply like deflated rubber every time they smiled. Alexia squeezed closer to the window. Katarina’s hip lay against her. Alexia slipped closer to the door, but when she moved, her aunt followed. Katarina’s hand clutched Zak’s hand. How nice for them, Alexia thought. They have each other to hold onto.
    She felt their eyes examining her. She suspected that they wanted to ask her something so she turned and said, “Have you been to Canada?”
    â€œWe no so adventurous like you or your father,” Katarina replied. “He always talk when he was young about seeing the world. He like travel. We.” She pointed to herself and Zak. “No.” They both shook their heads.
    Zak opened his mouth and closed it again. Katarina smiled, patted his thigh. “We don’t practise English. We forget the correct word.”
    â€œYou speak it very well.” Alexia said.
    â€œYour pappou. He think it important. God rest his soul.”
    â€œGrandfather in Greek,” someone in the back row said.
    â€œYes, I know a few words.”
    â€œYour father should teach you more,” the voice in the back said. “Important to understand your language. Yes or no?”
    The others agreed in unison . “Ne.”
    â€œI blame Nicolai for this. No teach you your language,” Maria said.
    â€œHe thought it was more important to belong. We lived in Canada.” Alexia repeated her father’s argument, even though she’d never agreed with him. She asked to go to Greek school when she was a child, but he wouldn’t allow it. She never understood why, but he was adamant. Was he embarrassed by where he came from?
    â€œYes, in America they do not want people different. They melt you in pot so everyone same like everyone.”
    â€œI’m from Canada.”
    â€œThere is a difference?” A male voice from the back seat asked. The van sped forward as if Christina had suddenly jammed her foot on the gas pedal. The engine lurched in protest. The squealing whistle of the wind remained steady.
    Alexia turned. Yannis, Maria’s oldest son, met her