is expected to say something, but nothing comes to mind. He pictures the goats running over the hills in the early morning light; he must get back to sleep to start a new day.
Hectoras looks around to see if his ouzo is coming. Yanni looks at the sky, tries to judge how long the light will remain. Suzi is still sleeping. She should be rested enough by now.
Two ouzos arrive and one is put down in front of Yanni. He tries to object, but it is simpler to let it sit there next to his lemonade, which is also untouched. Hectoras is silent again, still waiting for him to say something.
‘Everywhere, people are the same,’ Yanni finally says. ‘We are born, we scrabble about living, and we die. The rules do not change because you live on a small island or a large one. The only differences one man has from another are his own rules in his head. His honour.’
‘There, you see.’ Hectoras sounds triumphant. ‘You have not changed at all.’
‘Hectoras, is there something you are getting at?’ Yanni takes out his tobacco pouch. He will have one cigarette and then he will go.
‘You are going across to the mainland,’ Hectoras states, as if the decision has already been made.
Yanni’s fingers begin to fumble with his tobacco pouch. ‘Maybe,’ he mutters.
‘The day before I went up to Athens to go into the army, I was terrified. You never did do the army, did you?’ It’s a question he neither expects an answer to, nor does Yanni intend to give him one. Being born halfway up the mountain has made conformities, such as registering his birth, more effort than it was worth. In the world of lists and paper, he does not exist. But he does not want to discuss his business with Hectoras.
Yanni lights his cigarette and takes a long draw, his lighter still burning.
‘Until I was called for the army, I had never been off the island. The day I was due to leave was the most frightening day of my life. I can still remember the cold sweat that was running down my back. The ferry pulled in. It was the big old steel ship back then, you remember them.’ He coughs out a laugh. ‘My mama and baba standing so proud and I ran, ran to the nearest café and locked myself in the toilet. I was just in time.’ He chuckles at the memory. ‘But then I could not get out. My hands were shaking so much, I could not open the door. In the end, I had to call out and the waiter came. The most terrifying day of my life became the most embarrassing. But I was glad for the humiliation of being locked in the toilet. It took everyone’s focus away from my trembling bottom lip and my cold sweats. And for why? All because I thought the rules would be different, that the big world would be beyond my understanding.’ He finishes his ouzo.
‘So my question is, if I had not been to school so much and learnt the differences between this tiny island and the big world out there, would I have felt so much fear?’ With narrowed eyes and a smirk on his lips, he glances across to Yanni.
Yanni leans forward, picks up the glass of ouzo that is reflecting pinks and pale blues in the setting sun and, putting it to his mouth, throws his head back and swallows it in one.
‘Ah!’ Hectoras replies. ‘I see.’ With this, he takes a cigarette from the soft pack in front of him and, lighting it with a match that transforms his features grotesquely in the half-dark, he watches Yanni’s face.
Yanni grips the chair for moment and then without a word stands and strides stiffly to Suzi, who wakes with a start. It is difficult to see who leads who from the harbour.
Chapter 7
The cobbles under Suzi’s hooves click in time with the heels of Yanni’s boots. They lapse into a familiar rhythm and Yanni’s thoughts give way to a mercifully pleasant blankness.
The wide path narrows and grows steeper and finally peters to nothing but a dusty track, used by few. It zigzags steeply out of town.
If he were to leave the island, what if something should happen and he were
Hectoras looks around to see if his ouzo is coming. Yanni looks at the sky, tries to judge how long the light will remain. Suzi is still sleeping. She should be rested enough by now.
Two ouzos arrive and one is put down in front of Yanni. He tries to object, but it is simpler to let it sit there next to his lemonade, which is also untouched. Hectoras is silent again, still waiting for him to say something.
‘Everywhere, people are the same,’ Yanni finally says. ‘We are born, we scrabble about living, and we die. The rules do not change because you live on a small island or a large one. The only differences one man has from another are his own rules in his head. His honour.’
‘There, you see.’ Hectoras sounds triumphant. ‘You have not changed at all.’
‘Hectoras, is there something you are getting at?’ Yanni takes out his tobacco pouch. He will have one cigarette and then he will go.
‘You are going across to the mainland,’ Hectoras states, as if the decision has already been made.
Yanni’s fingers begin to fumble with his tobacco pouch. ‘Maybe,’ he mutters.
‘The day before I went up to Athens to go into the army, I was terrified. You never did do the army, did you?’ It’s a question he neither expects an answer to, nor does Yanni intend to give him one. Being born halfway up the mountain has made conformities, such as registering his birth, more effort than it was worth. In the world of lists and paper, he does not exist. But he does not want to discuss his business with Hectoras.
Yanni lights his cigarette and takes a long draw, his lighter still burning.
‘Until I was called for the army, I had never been off the island. The day I was due to leave was the most frightening day of my life. I can still remember the cold sweat that was running down my back. The ferry pulled in. It was the big old steel ship back then, you remember them.’ He coughs out a laugh. ‘My mama and baba standing so proud and I ran, ran to the nearest café and locked myself in the toilet. I was just in time.’ He chuckles at the memory. ‘But then I could not get out. My hands were shaking so much, I could not open the door. In the end, I had to call out and the waiter came. The most terrifying day of my life became the most embarrassing. But I was glad for the humiliation of being locked in the toilet. It took everyone’s focus away from my trembling bottom lip and my cold sweats. And for why? All because I thought the rules would be different, that the big world would be beyond my understanding.’ He finishes his ouzo.
‘So my question is, if I had not been to school so much and learnt the differences between this tiny island and the big world out there, would I have felt so much fear?’ With narrowed eyes and a smirk on his lips, he glances across to Yanni.
Yanni leans forward, picks up the glass of ouzo that is reflecting pinks and pale blues in the setting sun and, putting it to his mouth, throws his head back and swallows it in one.
‘Ah!’ Hectoras replies. ‘I see.’ With this, he takes a cigarette from the soft pack in front of him and, lighting it with a match that transforms his features grotesquely in the half-dark, he watches Yanni’s face.
Yanni grips the chair for moment and then without a word stands and strides stiffly to Suzi, who wakes with a start. It is difficult to see who leads who from the harbour.
Chapter 7
The cobbles under Suzi’s hooves click in time with the heels of Yanni’s boots. They lapse into a familiar rhythm and Yanni’s thoughts give way to a mercifully pleasant blankness.
The wide path narrows and grows steeper and finally peters to nothing but a dusty track, used by few. It zigzags steeply out of town.
If he were to leave the island, what if something should happen and he were
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