Black Butterflies (22 page)

He finds solace in his solitude now, the gentle change of the seasons the only influence on his quiet routine. The bugs and the small beasts all around him are his most constant companions. Besides, his life is harder than people think. They don
’t realise how difficult it is.

He turns to the house and tries to recall what he was doing, something important ... The child makes a noise, a calm cooing as he sleeps, his eyes fluttering, his fists clenching. Mitsos looks at him again, trying to understand this noise, like he tries to understand his chickens
’ different clucks. Each one has a meaning if you take the time to listen. The child’s soft skin beckons him to touch again, his rough fingers rasping no matter how lightly he strokes.

With the contact the boy becomes silent again and sleeps on. Mitsos envies his peace, his innocence. Truth be told, he envies his ease of living, his whole life ahead of him, unblemished.

In stages he lowers himself to a sitting position next to the child. The ground is still cool from the night, the grass slightly damp. The baby is lying down in his car seat, so Mitsos lies back, spreading himself out, picking the sharper stones from under his back. Now they can enjoy the same view – or at least they will, when the child wakes up. He can hear insects all around him, scratching and rustling. He feels at one with his land; he pats the earth, appreciating the living it has given him.

The baby
’s noises change. Mitsos turns on his side to look at his companion, who has opened his eyes.

‘
So young,’ he says with a sigh, and leans forward to kiss the little boy, the sweet smell of infancy lingering after he pulls away. ‘I was young once. It must seem impossible to one as new as you are.’ Mitsos rolls onto his back again. Lying in the weeds and the grass, they gaze up at the almond blossom. Bright white against a deep blue sky, the orchard full of warmth and the promise of summer; the smell of the earth dominant, a hint of ozone assuring all growing things that more rain will come.

‘
Yes, I was young. We all were.’ Mitsos picks a grass stem and chews on it, slowly. It is the act of a man who spends much of his time thinking, slow, ponderous.

His nephew stares at the blossoms fluttering in the slight breeze. He reaches out, wanting to touch them. Mitsos turns his head again to look at him. The infant is mesmerised by a fly. Mitsos waves his hand, driving it away, and the baby reaches for his watch, gold and shiny. Mitsos, missing the child's interest, pulls his hand back and puts it behind his head. The baby squeals as the watch is replaced by a falling leaf. Side by side, they become lost in the maze of black branches of the almond trees.

‘When I was young,’ Mitsos begins, quietly, ‘I had a friend, we were like two peas in a pod. What a pair of idiots we were …’ His voice trails off, and he exhales slowly. ‘So much life wasted.’ He looks to see if his talking is bothering the baby, but it seems to be soothing so he continues. ‘The young are so foolish, and then we grow up and get some sense, but it is too late, too late.’ A tear comes to his eye, and he wipes it away. They are silent together for a long time. The leaves rustle; creatures can be heard passing through the grass. The occasional butterfly flits overhead. The world around them is alive and happy.

When he resumes his narrative his tone is serious, quieter.

‘If I could turn back time, my little friend, so many things I would change. We were so wicked I can hardly bring myself to tell you.’

The baby makes a noise.
‘Calm yourself,’ Mitsos responds. ‘I will tell you. We have a couple of hours together, for goodness’ sake. If my brother is serious and he wants this baby-sitting lark to be a regular event I may even get around to telling you how I lost my arm.’ He laughs sadly before adding: ‘There’s precious else you and I can do but talk. You being only a baby and me, well, me being the way I am now.’ He looks softly at his kin and wishes the baby an uneventful life.

Mitsos falls silent for a moment. He has been thinking about the part he has played in his own life for so long that it feels a heavy burden. He decides to share it, why not? His talking will amuse the baby and he might finally make some sense of it all, two birds with one stone. He rouses himself slightly and adopts the role of entertainer.

‘So imagine us if you will, Manolis and Mitsos, young lads. Manolis always more of a man – he was a good head taller than me, with jet-black hair, blue eyes that mesmerised the women from when he was a very young age, first the mothers, then the daughters, and then the mothers again. Built like an ox and as wild as a wolf. There was no taming him.’ He looks at the baby to reassure himself that the talking will not upset the child but seeing its eyes so bright he continues, ‘Next to him, your good old Uncle Mitsos was just the sidekick, an afterthought for most people. Your Uncle Mitsos smiled more, I think. Your Uncle Mitsos definitely moaned less and was too shy to have a way with the women. I think your Uncle Mitsos perhaps thought things through a bit more than Manolis did, but Manolis – well, he was the ideas man. And did he come up with some ideas, let me tell you …’

The Explosive Nature of Friendship and the other books in the Greek Village Series are available on Amazon.

1. The Illegal Gardener

2. Black Butterflies

3. The Explosive Nature of Friendship

4. The Gypsy's Dream

5. The Art of Being Homeless

Good reviews will help others find Black Butterflies. If you enjoyed the book, please be kind and leave a review on Amazon.

Sincerely,

Sara Alexi

About Sara Alexi

Sara Alexi divides her time between England and a small village in Greece. She is working on her next novel in the Greek Village Series, to be released soon!

Sara Alexi is always delighted to receive emails from readers, and welcomes new friends on Facebook.

Email:
[email protected]

Facebook:
http://facebook.com/authorsaraalexi

PUBLISHED BY:

Oneiro Press

Black Butterflies

Book
Two of the Greek Village Series

Copyright © 2012 by Sara Alexi

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.