Page 66 of The Black Flamingo

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Is she asking me or telling me?

“Leventis,” she says to her friend,

who I hadn’t noticed.

Before I have a chance to respond,

the friend looks me up and down

and nods. They giggle,

link arms, and walk into the sea.

“Leventis,” I repeat, so I don’t forget.

“Mummy, what does ‘leventis’ mean?”

She laughs,

looking up from her book and squinting.

“Who said that to you?”

I shuffle to the right

to block the sun from her eyes. “Some girl,

just now.” I point toward the sea but I can’t tell

one pink bikini from another.

“It means ‘handsome man’ or it could mean

‘beautiful boy.’ And it can also mean ‘brave.’”

I’m shocked that it’s not something bad.

“Leventis,” I repeat,

once again. Handsome man, beautiful boy

or brave.But am I any of these things?

Maybe to a Greek Cypriot girl on a beach.

But where are the boys who see me this way?

Leventis. Does it really translate into English?

I don’t feel handsome,

I don’t feel beautiful,

and I don’t feel brave.

Apart from the cigarette

butts this beach is perfect.

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