Good Greek Girls Don't (18 page)

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Authors: Georgia Tsialtas

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Good Greek Girls Don't
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‘You're back.'

This is what I get when I listen to my heart. It takes me to the one place my head tells me I shouldn't be.

‘Can I come in?' This is the first time I have ever felt like I have had to ask. I don't like the way that feels.

As Chris leads me into the living room I can see how tired he is. He looks like he hasn't slept and he definitely hasn't shaved. I did this to him. You're not supposed to hurt the people you care about. Even as we walk into the lounge, I can see that Chris is wound up as tight as a spring. He looks like he has so many questions but doesn't know where to start.

‘I'm sorry, Chris.' For hurting him, for letting Denny destroy something that has been so good, for not being the person Chris wants me to be.

‘What are you apologising for, Des?'

‘For dragging you into my crap. I never wanted … ' I can't even finish the thought. I never wanted Chris to know any of this. I never wanted anyone to know and now it's all out there for the world to see and judge. ‘It all happened such a long time ago. It's dead and buried.'

‘No it's not, babe. If it was, you wouldn't have bolted last night.'

‘I was just shocked, you know? Angelo was the last person I expected to see and then he just wouldn't shut up.'

‘Why didn't you tell me, Des? Why did I have to find out from motor mouth?'

‘I didn't want anyone to ever know. It's a part of my life that I'd rather pretend didn't happen.'

‘Do you know what I did after you left? After I called Ricki and asked her to make sure you were okay?'

How does he know me so well? Instantly, he knew where I would go. No wonder Ricki and Ari weren't surprised when I showed up. But do I want to know what happened next? It can't be a good thing.

‘I got that bastard's details from Angelo so we could track him down. I have a cousin in Athens who works in the recruitment office.'

Oh, God.

‘Just say the word, Des, and it'll take him a year to walk properly again.'

‘What good would that do, Chris? That's not the sort of person you are. I'd never forgive myself if I turned you into that.'

‘It would be payback for you.'

‘I don't want payback. I want for this to have never happened. I want for you to have never heard those words come out of Angelo's mouth.'

‘I want to fix this for you, Des.'

‘You can't.' Not without the aid of time travel. ‘I have to take care of this myself. I thought I had; I thought that I had dealt with it, that I had buried it so deep that it would never see the light of day again. I never thought that what he did would find its way into our relationship. Denny ruins everything he touches. I never thought he would get in here, but he did.'

‘Nothing's ruined, babe. You just need to let me in. I can't help you if you don't open up. You say you buried it, but you need to un-bury it now and we can cremate it together.'

I can't believe I'm crying. I never cried once over that bastard, I would never give him that satisfaction, but now, with Chris's arms around me, I can't seem to stop. It's like the floodgates have opened and there is a deluge coming.

‘He beat me up.' There, I said it. ‘He treated me like shit because he screwed up his own life and when he couldn't get any lower, he dragged me down by using me as a punching bag.' I can't stop now. I wonder if I can just stay in Chris's arms forever and pretend that none of this ever happened? I wonder if he can hold me hard enough and long enough to squeeze out the bad memories?

‘Baby, I'm so sorry.'

‘Why are you sorry? I'm the one that should be sorry. Maybe I should just walk out of here now. You don't need a basket case like me bringing you down.' But he won't let go of me.

‘You're my basket case. And I'm not letting you go.'

‘Why do you even bother with me?' I don't understand it. I'm nothing special. Chris could do so much better than me. It wouldn't be that hard. He wouldn't even have to try. ‘You deserve the best.'

‘I've got the best, Des. Do you have any idea how much I love you?'

He's told me before, but there was always that part of me that wondered if he would disappear if he knew.

‘You love me?'

‘Yeah, you idiot. I love you.'

He loves me. All I've ever wanted – someone who loves me just for me, unconditionally, even when I go crazy. He loves me.

‘So, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me.'

Why does this scare me? I know I love him. But I haven't told him the whole story about Denny. What if I tell him? It'll only hurt more in the end, when he realises he doesn't love me or he finds someone better. It'll hurt too much if I put it all on the line and then lose him.

‘I will never hurt you.'

‘Chris, don't make promises you might not be able to keep.' People don't always choose to hurt each other. It just happens. I didn't want to hurt Chris last night but I did.

‘Okay, baby. I promise I will always do my best not to hurt you, not to make you cry.'

He's holding me so tight; he's telling me just what I need to hear. It's like he's got my heart in his hands and he's bandaging it, healing the wounds.

‘Not all guys are like that bastard.'

‘I know that.'

I realise that I have to take a risk. Chris is not Denny –he's worlds away from Denny.

‘It's over, now that you know. It's finally over.' I better sit down before I fall down. All of a sudden I feel dizzy. When was the last time I ate?

‘How did this happen, Des? What happened with him?'

Tonight I will finally lay this demon to rest. ‘Denny got made redundant from work.' Leaning back on the couch with Chris's arms around me I can talk about this. I can do it. ‘He blew all the money he got and all of a sudden he couldn't pay his bills and he wasn't looking for work, so it was Desi to the rescue. I paid a few of his bills and loaned him some money to help see him through. I thought this is what people do, you know? To help each other through bad times. Anyway, I started to get the feeling that as long as I was paying for everything he would never get his act together and find a job or even pay me back the money. So I stopped. I thought that would force him to get his arse into gear. But it backfired, and when he couldn't take care of things without crawling to his parents he blamed me. See, according to Denny, everything is always someone else's fault. It was someone else's fault when his marriage fell apart and it was my fault when he hit me. If I'd only given him the money he wouldn't have had to get it out of me. If I'd gotten him a job he wouldn't have had to take my money in the first place.'

I can see the look on Chris's face; I can read the questions he doesn't want to ask: Why did I stay? Why didn't I just leave?

‘I stayed for a while. I thought that I could help him, but he wouldn't help himself so nothing I did was any use. A part of me thought that he was right; I made him react that way when I stopped giving him money and stopped supporting him. Then there were my parents. They seemed so happy that I was with someone and that their dream of marrying me off might actually come true. I didn't want to admit that I had gotten myself into such a mess. The longer I stayed, the harder it was to leave. I actually thought, what if this is as good as it gets? What if this is all I deserve? What if there isn't anything better out there? I wasn't staying because I loved him. I never loved him. I just got used to him being there. But then I couldn't do it anymore. I finally figured out that if Denny was as good as it gets then I'd rather be alone.'

It's over, finally. It feels like the biggest weight has been lifted off my shoulders and Chris's arms are still wrapped around me. He's not going anywhere.

‘Well, you're not alone. You've got me, and I love you. But you should have told me about this sooner. You should have let me help you.'

‘I love you, too. I was so scared to tell you. You had me right from our first date.' And now it feels like I can't say it enough. I fell hook, line and sinker as soon as I saw that rose. ‘That purple rose clinched the deal. As soon as I saw it I was a goner.' Why is he laughing?

‘What is it about that purple rose? What the hell is so special about it?'

‘Why did you get me a purple rose that night?' Okay, it is finally time for this to come out in the open. ‘How did you know to get it for me? And where the hell did you find it?'

‘Look, Katerina told me two things: that purple is your favourite colour, and that if I managed to get you a rose, our date would definitely go well. So I put two and two together and spent the whole day trying to find a purple rose. Once I told Katerina what I was doing she kept telling me it had to be deep, dark purple – no lilac crap. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a bloody dark purple bloody rose?'

Yes I do. ‘So how did you get your hands on it?'

‘I got a florist near work to dye one for me. She went through a dozen before she got it right.' Finally, the truth is revealed after all this time. ‘So are you going to tell me what it all means? Katerina wouldn't tell me so it's up to you.'

Okay, this is probably going to make him split his sides laughing. ‘It's simple. The purple rose is a test. I told Katerina that if a guy could get me a purple rose, I would be his forever.'

I am his, no matter how much I tried to deny it. I'm his. And there is that twinkle in his eyes I was terrified I would never see again. It hasn't gone anywhere.

‘So did I pass the test?' Is he kissing my neck? That's not fair. Chris knows I melt when he does that.

‘Yes, with flying colours. You had me then and there.' Bingo, he's hit my weak spot. He knows me so well.

‘So are you mine?'

Get to my lips Chris before I burst.

‘Forever.' I don't think I ever had any choice in the matter. My heart made that decision a long time ago without consulting with my brain. It just took the rest of me a while to catch up. ‘But only after you shave. Your stubble is tickling me.'

----------15----------

I've really dropped myself in it this time. To try to make things up to Chris for my little freak out, I've offered to make him his favourite meal – gnocchi with wild mushrooms and fetta – from scratch. My aim is to do this without making a huge mess or burning his apartment down, but now I'm not so sure either is going to be possible. You see, I have about five basic meals that I work with and improvise around. I am not a chef. On the contrary, I am generally a disaster in the kitchen if my mother or grandmother aren't there to save the day when it all goes wrong. What made me think I could do this all on my own? I even said I would make dessert. I think I need my head examined. I should've just bought some takeaway and dished it up, pretending it was mine. Chris would be none the wiser and I would not be standing in his kitchen covered in flour. Too late for that now – he's going to be home soon and I've barely starting cutting the dough into pieces.

I like that Chris gave me the keys to his place. It means he trusts me; it means that I am becoming a part of this place now. It means I can surprise him. It means I can escape here whenever my family is just about ready to drive me to psychiatric care. It means this is serious.

I've completely surprised myself – I actually managed to make fresh gnocchi! The little gnocchi balls are ready to be boiled, the sauce is simmering slowly and the desert is setting in the fridge. I, however, am an absolute mess. How do women do this every day of their lives and still manage to look decent? How come the women on the cooking channel never end up wearing their ingredients? Dough up my nose and sauce all over my top is definitely not a good look. Five minutes later and I'm out of the shower and squeaky clean – but without any clean clothes to change into. I'm sure Chris won't mind if I rummage through his closet for a T-shirt to wear.

This is freaky. I have never seen a neater wardrobe than Chris's. This is not normal. All shirts together, all suits in order, jeans in one section. And not just sectioned –everything is also colour coordinated. You can see the jeans fading from darkest to lightest and there's no white shirts mixed in with the blue. This is the sort of wardrobe that would make my mother proud. And it's all wooden clothes hangers – not a wire one in sight. I thought only a gay man knew that wire hangers are a no–no. Oh well, freaky as it may be, at least the guy takes care of his things – nothing wrong with that!

As I reach for the pile of T-shirts, folded and stacked like they belong on a shelf at Country Road, something behind the pile falls to the floor. A red envelope with a heart on it. Oh, what's this! I know I shouldn't be snooping but I'd rather preview any grand protestations of love he's planning to bestow on me with this envelope, rather than look like a stunned mullet when he gives it to me. This isn't snooping; this is just preparation for what's around the corner. Besides, if I wasn't meant to read it, the envelope would be sealed.

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