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By Root 706 0

It was cold and I kept falling into him and I was so happy. It was strange. I mean I was elated. He kissed me so softly. I mean no one had ever kissed me like that. No one had even come close to kissing me like that. Not even in the same world. There was no rush. His mouth soft and warm and my God he was gentle. And that’s what got me. That’s what got me. He was tender. I mean truly tender. At that time, at that moment in my life, I mean Christ. It was over. The way he touched me, it made me want to cry. I don’t know how else to say it: I was completely overwhelmed. I could barely breathe and I kept jumping around like an idiot, like a kid and he sat there smiling at me, his serene little smile like he knew everything, everything. And I was dancing around—I think I had my shoes off—and he was sitting there looking at me with that smile and those eyes and I had to get out of there. So I told him I had my period. I don’t know why I told him that, why I didn’t just go home with him.

That was it. He kissed me again and my heart was pounding, pounding. I had to get out of there.

I went to Ariel’s. It was late. I took a taxi. She was in bed and I crawled in and told her everything. I knew she was furious. I rolled onto my side, smiled into the dark and fell asleep.

WILL

I spent the summer in Santorini. Each morning I woke in my small room and ate breakfast on the terrace overlooking the sea. I’d smile at the old woman who served me, walk out to the pool, find a chair, and read in the sun. In the afternoons I’d sit in a taverna on the water and eat fava and grilled octopus and drink beer. Afterward, I’d sleep, read, and watch the kids diving from the rocks. Later I’d go for a run high above the town along the ridge and toward Imerovigli. On the way back I’d stop at the rose church and sit on the wall and watch the sunset. Often, a white dog, thin and wolf-like, would run with me and then sit at my side panting as the sun fell.

Once there was a woman leaning against the wall, her face pretty in the orange light. We stood together, the two of us and the dog, and though I wanted to, I didn’t speak to her.

The sun fell lower and lower, the wind came up, the sweat on my skin began to dry. Eventually, she left, nodding at me, smiling shyly and I watched her walk slowly down the path toward town.

Except for the few words of Greek I spoke to the sweet woman who brought my breakfast, I’d barely spoken to anyone since leaving Paris.

Good morning.

How are you?

Thank you.

A beer at the bar in town. Dinner too. I made no effort to meet anyone. I never approached the women who looked at me. After dinner I sat on the wall of the old fort and rolled cigarettes, smoked them and watched the moon rise. I listened to conversations, lovers whispering together, hidden away beneath the castle walls.

Sometimes in the evening I’d say something out loud just to remind myself that I was there, that I was capable of language.

“Jump,” I’d say.

Or, “Telephone.”

Or, “Isabelle.”

Lying in my bed staring up at the ceiling I’d listen to those words floating around the room.

A few days before I left, I walked down to Amoudi Bay past the donkeys transporting other tourists up the steep path back to Oia. I walked past the tavernas and around the high rocks above the water. It was late in the afternoon, the wind had come up, and the small beach was nearly deserted. I spread my towel out over a flat rock and stood on the edge looking down over the water.

I felt the air warm and soft. I dove out and fell down into the cool water, breaking through the surface, suddenly surrounded, deeper and deeper. I stayed down as long as I could, waiting until I needed to return. And bursting through there was an intense jolt of joy, as if only here, in the water, with the warm wind and the taste of salt in my mouth, could I feel, could I shake my memory clear, shock away the familiar numbness. I put my head down and swam hard for the small island and its chapel built into the rock. I lay pressing my chest, my legs, stomach, palms, face against the hot stone,