Page 30 of Love on the Rocks
The time had come to make an offering to the goddess.
Once the idea was firmly fixed in my head, I practically ran up the steps toward my little hut. After filling a bag with some scented candles and sage, I headed with determined steps over the rocks to the temple. The wind had picked up, blowing in from the harbor like a furious banshee, almost pushing me up the steep incline of the hill. My hair whipped around my face as I held my phone like a torch in the air, determined to find reception. I started to feel a bit like a crazed sorceress trying to harness the elements, and a hysterical laugh burst from my lungs. I needed to talk to someone soon or I was going to lose it.
As I suspected, the service got better the higher I climbed and the closer I got to the temple, which, on closer inspection, was much larger than I had expected. It had only three columns; the fourth had completely crumbled into a powdery heap. Only the front remained intact thanks to some newer stones that kept it from collapsing backward. I stood in the middle of it, blades of dried grass tickling my toes, and felt almost as if I were on hallowed ground. Ridiculous, I know, but the longer I stayed on this island the more I believed in all those old myths.
A crumbling statue of Aphrodite stood in the middle, facing out to the sea. I wondered how many boats she had witnessed crossing those blue waters, how many sunsets, how many storms?
She’d lost most of her face to the elements and both of her arms, but she was still beautiful. Her small breasts were bare and perky over a plump belly and generous hips, and there was a power that emanated from her. I could almost feel it in the air as I reached out to touch her.
Inexplicably, I felt tears gather behind my eyes. I was often moved to tears by other people’s stories, by books, or by any movie where an animal or an old person was hurt. I’ve cried for my friends. But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself cry over my own life.
Junior high school maybe? I used to be bullied for being too big, too loud, too much. I’d wept buckets back then. Until the day I’d just decided that I didn’t give a damn about what the popular girls thought about me, and that I wasn’t going to cry anymore. And I hadn’t for years. Through all my disappointing love affairs, the stress of culinary school, the shitty apprenticeships that left me feeling lower than a cockroach’s ass, I’d never felt sorry for myself. So what was happening to me now?
“I’m going to be honest with you,” I told Aphrodite. “I’m trying my best here, but it’s not easy. I feel like a fraud, and everyone hates me.” I sniffed.
“I’m just so sick of being strong all the time.” The tears started flowing freely, but they felt healing, cathartic. “And I’m so lonely.”
It felt weird to say it out loud. It surprised me too. I was lonely? I always made friends wherever I went. I’d had strings of boyfriends. I had fantastic best friends, who were doing wonderful things in their lives. I had so much to be grateful for that it seemed selfish to be crying over my temporary solitude.
Or was it more than that? Maybe deep down I was afraid it wasn’t temporary. I’d always made light of my own love life, my tendency to fall for bad boys. I mean, the sex was decent. Not mind blowing, but good enough. But now that my very bestfriend had the kind of love that I’d read about in romance books, I couldn’t help but feel envious.
I’d always loved theideaof love. I was an avid romance reader after all. But I still didn’t really believe it would happen for me. It was fiction, a fantasy. And yet, if I was honest with myself, when we were “together” I’d secretly hoped Gaz would come to his senses and realize we were perfect for each other. We were both chefs, we understood each other, and had similar schedules. What could be better, right?
I swiped at my tears. How pathetic was I crying at the feet of a two-thousand-year-old statue? I started to laugh at the melodrama of it all.
“Ah, forget I said anything,” I said. “I’m fine, really. I am strong and capable on my own.”
And to prove it, I pulled out my phone and opened my music app. “Listen, I don’t have much to offer, but I do have Stevie.” The first bars of “Rhiannon” filled the air. “From one goddess to another.”
I started dancing on the stones, holding my phone up to the sky, laughing like a madwoman and singing, “All your life you’ve never seen woman taken by the wind . . . ahh!”
I slipped. Hard. Kicking up bits of ancient stone, I slid down the jagged rocks of the temple mound, scratching my legs and landing at a weird angle. Stunned, I stared up at the sky as the song continued to play from my phone, now dangling over the precipice.
I tried to ignore the searing pain in my foot as I glanced down at my lower body. My dress was up around my waist, and my scratched and bloody legs looked like they’d been attacked by a wild cat. When I tried to move it felt like someone was stabbing a red-hot poker into my ankle. I reached for my phone just as a strong gust of wind came howling out of nowhere and sent it tumbling onto the rocks below.
Perfect, just perfect. Tears of frustration gathered in my eyes as I leaned up on my elbows and stared back in the direction of my little house, which now seemed miles away.
After a few minutes, I decided to stand. It was only a twenty-minute walk to my place. I could maybe limp there in an hour. But when I put weight on my foot, I thought I might pass out.
“Son of a bitch!” I cursed. Gritting my teeth I managed to hobble a few steps before collapsing, defeated, against a large boulder.
“If this is your idea of offering me comfort, I’m sorry I asked,” I shouted at the statue of Aphrodite before I slid to my knees and started to crawl back down the hill. It was a fool’s errand, and I gave up before I got very far. Tears burned behind my eyes.
In the distance, a goat bleated and I heard the tinkling of little bells. Someone was approaching. I squinted until I could just make out Giorgos and his donkey. As far as I was concerned, it was like witnessing the second coming of Christ. I shouted, waved, and then finally whistled between my fingers.
When at last he looked my way and waved, I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks.
Chapter 13
Desire snaked through him, a need to possess her without breaking her spirit. With one smooth motion, he swept her over his shoulder.
“You’re kidnapping me?”
One large hand settled on her wiggling derrière, the other between the soft skin of her bare thighs, the heat between her legs tempting him to explore higher.
“The week starts tonight. I cannot wait any longer,asteri mou.”
- One Week with the Greek
