Eléni & M Move to Athens - Part 14

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 13 of this series. Anthi Psomiadou has graciously agreed—sans rien dire mais tout dire (without saying anything but saying everything)—to continue to appear as a fictional character also called, Anthi, as she did in the first series. It is no coincidence, methinks. It must be μοίρα (fate), or what science describes as a series of incessant actions and reactions that tend to culminate at specific points in spacetime and affect certain protagonists.

The world is expanding Greece and Greece is the shrinking world. Victor Hugo

A kiss from Goddess Athena is always welcomed by any of us, but Patrick is obviously the ultimate beneficiary of her love given all the ancillary touching that is usually attached, especially when they make love. Yet, at this moment in time, I was only thinking about Anthi. I wanted to kiss her and smell her flowers. There was Eléni and there was Anthi’s family to consider beyond any such desire. But as we were, all five of us, sitting on the balcony back in our rented house, facing the sea and having coffee or tea after our unforgettable last night’s dream, flying over Crete with some divinity in our hearts, all I could think about was Anthi, sitting a few steps from me yet completely out of reach. I wondered if she felt the same, but I did not dare ask her in her mind. I would need a new language, I thought, to ask her why we were so attracted to each other. Je t’aime (I love you) and Moi aussi (Me too) played in my mind like a Cretan lyra.

I was certain that Goddess Athena knew how I suddenly felt, so I followed her when she stepped in for a moment. It seems that even a goddess needs to go to the bathroom, so I waited not too far for Athena to come out. Can I speak to you in private, my goddess? I asked, feeling vulnerable and unsure, as soon as she appeared in all her splendour.

“Of course, M! What is up?” Athena replied, almost breaking my heart with her divine beauty.

I am inclined to think that you already know what is on my mind but here goes. I think that I am in love with Anthi. No! I am actually sure of it, but I cannot be and yet I am. I am hoping for some of your wisdom, my goddess.

“M and M!” Athena exclaimed.

You know that it is the name of candied chocolates, I said, trying to defuse my sense of what-am-I-saying.

“M, then,” Athena said, smiling wisely. “I felt that you were growing closer and I noticed all the attention that you were giving her, but then we all felt the same about her, since we all love her, and she loves us as well. It is familial love that we feel, though when I kiss you, I feel a part of Patrick, but that is to be expected given your unbreakable bond. I think that our inner connection has caused both of you to feel more than brotherly and sisterly love. You will have to decide on your own if you wish to pursue these strong feelings further. You both know the potential cost of such a love. Talk to each other. You will find in your minds and your hearts the right path.”

Thank you, my goddess! I was also wondering why it is Anthi and not you that I love this way, realizing that you with Patrick is almost the same as you with me. I love you immensely, but the fact that you are with Patrick seems to pass over such a possibility.

“I know, my M,” Athena replied, putting her hands over my heart. “Yours is as fragile as Patrick’s, but you seem to hold on to reality better than he does. It may be the reason for your état d’âme (state of mind),” Athena added before kissing me as she does always and so well.

I kissed her back this time, perhaps trying to confirm my initial hypothesis, but then dropping to my knees and kissing her feet, one by one with devotion, yet thinking without warning that I would have preferred to kiss Anthi’s feet before kissing her entire skin. It proved to me beyond any doubt that I was in love with Anthi Kanéna. My heart ached, which was always the sign when I loved a woman deeply. What was I going to do, I thought, even asking Athena in her mind for help as we joined the rest of our group on the balcony. She kissed my forehead in my brain, whispering that Anthi will know what to do.

O Anthi, I spoke to her mind. I love you and it hurts inside. She looked at me and replied, Moi aussi je t’aime sans pouvoir me contrôler (I love you too without being able to control myself). I knew that she meant it because she said it in French. I would have believed her in Greek too, in any language, even Italian or Portuguese. Il faut qu’on se parle (We have to talk), I replied, looking at the sky and trying not to cry. Eléni would probably understand, knowing her as deeply as I do. But I would be the one torturing myself for causing her any pain. I could not live with myself if I ever did. But my entire being was screaming for Anthi. Two syllables with so much power. What did I expect from flowers? It was inevitable and I knew why.

We had decided to sail around the island on the following morning. Great, I had thought at the time. I would be able to drown myself, but Goddess Athena would probably save me. Even disappearing is not easy in Greece. Athena kissed me in my mind to tell me that I was right. What did I expect from Athena? Everything. I wanted her to ease my pain, yet I did not. I even loved the idea of being in love with Anthi, not only the fact of it. It was another proof of my love for her. O Anthi! Why are you so disarming, so sure that love always wins? It always loses when one of the two dies. It always loses when one of the two is attached. It always loses when the woman in question is beautiful both outside and inside. It always loses because such is its nature.

I want to write you a sonnet, I told her mind. A sonnet like no other, full of flowers blooming in winter, full of kisses that never cease, full of love that never dies, wiser than Romeo and Juliet, stronger than the link between a mother and her daughter, more powerful than death. Words can never convey the composition of the blood that rushes when in love. I wanted to be inside Anthi, become a blue blood cell, circulating in perpetual happiness, as I visit every part of her without hurting anyone. I want to be within you, Anthi, I whispered to her mind. I want to be the one who always resides in your mind, where your thoughts coalesce into the beauty of your words, where a couple of words like Je t’aime mean more than anything else under the Sun, the Moon and the stars.

“Moi aussi, mon amour. Moi aussi je veux que tu m’aimes,” (Me too, my love. I also want you to love me) Anthi screamed in my mind. “Je t’aime et je veux toujours être près de toi,” (I love you and I always want to be close to you) she continued to scream. But I quickly realized that I was the one screaming in my own mind. Anthi was looking at me, probably wondering why I seemed so far and what was I thinking about. But she knew that I was thinking of her. She knew that I was Anthi-drunk.

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Many thanks to Anthi Psomiadou for her continued support and interest in seeing this story unravel towards a still unknown conclusion. Perhaps there will be no end to it if I remain in Greece, and from the looks of it, I can already imagine typing, Part 100. Yet, it does not seem to only depend on me.

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