Twelve Summers Later

April, 2010

“Selina?” I tensed slightly the moment I heard my name spoken in his voice.

It was him; there was no doubt about it. And yet, I hadn’t seen him anywhere around until a second before.

I had gone back to the pier out of pure melancholy—after more than ten years without setting foot on this island, I couldn’t help but stop by.

Nor, for that matter, was I deluding myself into thinking I wouldn’t cross paths with him; perhaps, I had just hoped I wouldn’t run into him right away.

I stared at my feet dangling over the crystal-clear sea for a few seconds longer, trying to quiet the turmoil that the sound of his voice had reawakened after all this time.

Then I gathered my courage and turned around, looking up. I met two blue eyes, as deep as the sea off the island’s coast, and an incredulous smile.

“Niko,” I said, standing up.

For a few seconds we studied each other, almost by instinct. It felt as though we were trying to recognize the children and teenagers we used to be inside these new adult shapes.

He had grown tall, tanned, toned... even handsomer than I remembered. Maturity suited him.

“How... how are you?” he asked, still surprised.

He made a move to take a step forward, but I drew back just enough to make him think better of it.

“Good, thank you. And you?”

He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. He was wearing a white tank top under an open blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, paired with jeans and sneakers.

“I’m doing well,” he replied.

He shifted his gaze to the sea and then back to me. He had an almost dazed smile, one that I didn’t quite know how to interpret.

“Your parents?” I asked, to break the awkwardness.

“Good, they’re staying in Athens.”

“Do they still live there?”

He nodded, then asked in turn, “Yours? Are they here too?”

“No, they stayed home.”

Silence fell between us for a few seconds. Niko crossed his arms and then uncrossed them immediately after; he seemed restless. Since he made no move to say anything else, I started to walk away, but he cut me off.

“When did you get here?”

“This morning,” I answered.

“I have to go now,” I added, taking my first steps.

“Wait,” he said, reaching out an arm.

When his hand brushed my wrist, his warmth sent a sudden shiver through me.

“Are you... alone?”

I nodded.

“How long are you staying?” he pressed, his eyes shining.

I felt the emotions rising back to the surface, slowly, from the depths of my heart.

“A few days. I suppose I’ll see you around,” I said, probably in a harder tone than I intended.

“Would you like to come say hello to yiayiá?”

“Are your grandparents still... here?” I asked.

“Yes. We live in the usual house. Where are you staying? At your place?”

I held my breath, gathered all my clarity, and replied, “Yes. I would love to see your grandparents, of course, but not right now.”

I offered a faint goodbye smile, catching a hint of disappointment on his face, then turned my back on him and walked away.

He didn’t move; he made no attempt to accompany me or follow me. And yet, I could still perceive his presence. Despite the meters of distance growing between us, I couldn’t stop feeling it. I felt his gaze planted on my back, but I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead.

I looked up at the sky for just an instant, cursing myself for choosing this specific island out of all possible destinations.

I had imagined I would run into him, and deep down I had hoped so; I just wanted to see how he was doing, to make sure everything was alright.

I knew I would feel something, but I was convinced it would be sincere affection. Like when two old friends find each other after years and past grudges or misunderstandings vanish without a trace.

Instead, just hearing his voice had been enough to exhumate feelings I thought were forgotten. Dead and buried. But now, instead, they were more alive than ever.

I sighed, stepping into the narrow streets of the center. I focused on the texture of the stones under my sandals, on the scent of jasmine, on the white walls with blue shutters... everything preserved an unaltered beauty, the very same as when I was a child.

I tried to cling to a rigid composure. But the memories were returning, on tiptoe, implacable: the joy of childhood, friendship, affection, love... and then the disappointment, the abandonment.

They were all tied to him, ready to reclaim their space, as if they had gone on a long vacation and a five-minute call from Niko had been enough to bring them all back home.

I tried to push them away, but the reason I had returned didn’t help; quite the opposite. The fragility and disorientation that had driven me to seek refuge on this island seemed to call out for them out loud.

Perhaps, after all, a little melancholy and nostalgia wouldn’t do me any harm.

Perhaps.

But as I reached the door of my old house, my hand trembled on the keys.

I had told him I would see him around, and deep down, I knew the island was too small to hide from him for long.