Eléni & M Move to Athens - Part 19

This new series has its history in the form of several short stories, several poems, and a 13-part series that is linked at the bottom via Part 18 of this series. Anthi Psomiadou has graciously agreed—I am 100% sure—to appear as a fictional character also called, Anthi, as she did in the first series, though as Anthi Kanéna in this series, to be precise like the blue and white I perceive in her smile. Each time I see flowers now, I think of Anthi.

It is a shame to be called educated, those who do not study ancient Greek writers. François Rabelais

However beautiful was going to be the day before us, Anthi and M, I mean me, we only thought about our dream tonight. We left Captain Chloros on the yacht with Glaukopis on his shoulder and went for a walk around the Plaka Marina to explore the sights and imagine love bathing in lust. It was still morning and thus the Sun was still merciful, though we never found it to be any harsher than a January snowstorm in Montreal. It was breezy and beautiful, with three stunning women being followed by two men who almost looked the same.

“Why are you walking behind us?” our Athena asked.

Patrick and I are admiring you from the other side. It hurts to see you all three from the front in one long shot after a certain amount of time, I said, looking at Anthi’s back after having memorized the rest of her.

“Yes! M took the words out of my mouth,” Patrick added, after he had seen about the same but with Athena.

“So, how do we look from that side?” Eléni asked.

Too wonderful to describe, I began. Athena looks like a goddess, Anthi looks like a goddess, and you look like a goddess. And we are but two lucky mortals in love with you. We are the luckiest men in all Greece.

“In all the world, I would rectify,” Patrick said.

But Greece is the world, forgetful Patrick. I am sure that our Goddess has taught you at least that by now.

“She taught me much more, single-letter-name M, and that Greece is still one country among many,” Patrick replied.

You used to be metaphorically minded, Patrick. I guess that your direct contact with the divine has rubbed it off of your mind.

“But you are the metaphor, M. It is the meaning of your initial,” Patrick replied.

That is a good one, Patrick. But then numerous words begin with M such as meiosis, mimesis, monologue, and even music. Patrick was supposedly a Saint. Did you tell that to Athena?

“Come on, you two! You were both right. Greece is the world but the world is not Greece. Come beside us and hug us! The Sun is not enough,” our Athena said, seriously but joyously.

Patrick hugged Athena and I found myself yet again between Eléni and Anthi, hugging them both, counting my blessings, and telling Athena in her mind, that I will always love her, no matter what. Eléni and Anthi too, obviously, but Athena was our goddess, and Athena will always be loved beyond any sea and any sky. O Anthi! I then pined. I could not help it, feeling her warmth against me, as we continued to walk, five hearts that felt like two.

Everything looked inviting, with the blue-and-white colour scheme, more like a duo, shining through all our hearts, both through and within. We all decided to stop and rest upon noticing the words, The Blue Door restaurant. We would not have stopped had it been The White Door restaurant. But here, we felt that it was beckoning to us, Come in for a bit, the food is neat, the music is light, and we are open till late night. We will and we did. We did not have a reservation, but upon seeing Athena, Eléni, and Anthi, the restaurant manager almost begged us to stay, with a drink on the house.

“We will eat at your restaurant but nothing will be free,” Athena replied to the manager, who did not know where to put his hands. Luckily he had two pockets and in there they went.

We were seated nearest to the sea, so we could see the difference between liquid blue and air blue in this blue heaven called Crete, part of already-sketched-in-our-hearts Greece. The crispy salad and fresh fish were delicious, as were the dolmadakia (stuffed grape leaves) and spanakopita (spinach pie). The music was soulful, yet it is Athena who filled our hearts, and it seemed that everyone else in the restaurant felt the same upon seeing her. What would happen if the entire world could see her? I thought. Perhaps all hearts would soften and all minds would rejoice.

Everyone even stood and waved us goodbye when we left. We were grateful and somewhat eager to become alone again, the five of us, which felt like two. Athena and the rest of us, or the three beauties and the two halves. We continued our stroll around the vicinity of the marina until we came full circle, half circle twice, to Athena Forever. Captain Chloros was happy to see us, welcoming the fresh food we had brought him with too many thanks.

We all went swimming in that liquid blue, three more-than-half-naked beauties and two men wearing shorts, though in the case of Athena, I could easily say, a more-than-half-nude beauty given that nudity only applies to the gods but especially the goddesses. The water felt cool and salty, and our minds felt warm and sweet. I could not wait any longer to taste my Anthi, praying for sleep to strike me as soon as it could. Anthi felt the same, caressing my mind with her breath, which I caught when I could touch her, afraid that I would not be able to let go. O Anthi! I called out in her mind. The day is long and the night is still far.

“I know, my M, but it is approaching like a storm. I can already feel the wind, and the rain is not far behind. I want you even more now, following our swim. I never wanted to dream as much as I want to dream tonight,” my Anthi declared.

The Moon was smiling like she never smiled before, and the stars were brilliant and refusing to explode. We felt like olden-days newlyweds about to taste love for the first time. We were already naked in our bound dream, touching every part as if we were discovering the human form. I kissed and bit everything Anthi offered, and she gave me all there is to give. I could not stop kissing her lips nor could I leave her mouth. Her tongue was titillating, always asking for more. All that I was became hers. I was Anthi. There was no M left. I became her breasts. I was the left and I was the right. I was both at the same time. I was her hands when she touched herself. I was her toes when she wiggled them gently against her loving face. I was her belly when she licked it, heading slowly to her pussy, but not before speaking to it in a new tongue, a new dialect that even I did not understand. It was like baby talk. Goo-goo, I mumbled, or was it, yoo-hoo. It was a string of the “oo” sound that just would not stop. It was going to be a very long dream.

Thank you, Athena! I mumbled at one point, with Anthi biting my wooden heart right through my chest. I felt no pain. Only love traversed me and her. We were in sync like the greatest philharmonic. I heard her moan my name. M after M after M after M. I know, I am, I mumbled when I heard it for a hundred times. It seems that I was counting them. I was naming flowers. I called her my anemone, my chrysanthemum, my daffodil, my lily, my orchid, my rose, my sunflower, my tulip. Flower after flower in alphabetical order, restarting at the beginning each time a new name appeared out of order. I loved Anthi like I never loved before, and when we merged and emerged as one body, we were both crying each other’s tears. Some were sweet, some were salty, but none were bitter. I love you, Anthi, I kept repeating as we moved together without going anywhere. And I said it in every language I knew and did not know. I even heard myself saying it in Portuguese. The unconscious can be salutary when a goddess is pulling its strings.

Our lovemaking never ended. Our dream ended as soon as the first rays of the Sun made their way to our faces. We opened our eyes. Anthi was by herself in her cabin, with Glaukopis standing guard on a night table, and I, M, was next to Eléni, still unable to let go from Anthi’s embrace. We were both awake but in love with each other even more than before. We met in the kitchen when we went to get some water. I could not stop crying when I saw her smiling. They were her tears, after all, and she needed them back. I had enough to spare, asking her to keep mine for tonight. We knew, as we drank our waters, that nights would be our favourite time of day.

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Anthi Psomiadou continues to represent a character who is growing in importance as the story is lengthening each day and each night, slowly becoming the main protagonist in a tale with no planned end yet. Thank you, Anthi, for all your comments, suggestions, and insightful additions, as well as your one apparent case of shock! This part may seem more shocking, but I know that Anthi Kanéna’s dream was all that she expected it to be, and perhaps more. It was a dream, nonetheless, and thus I cannot be sure.

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