Page 41 of Waves of Time

“Family business!” Kostos explained as he turned, shaking his head. “It is divine.”

As he walked back to the kitchen, Aria, Hilary, and Marc exchanged glances and laughed.

“He’s great at marketing. I’ll give him that,” Marc said, stabbing a piece of souvlaki with his fork.

“Does anyone want a stuffed grape leaf?” Hilary pointed to the half-eaten appetizer in front of them.

“I’ll share one with you,” Aria said, and as Hilary sliced the stuffed grape leaf with her fork and knife, Aria reveled in this feeling of normality. She wasn’t sure what lurked ahead, but this was nice. Really nice.

After they finished their meal, Kostos returned with free ouzo and a honey dessert that was to die for.

“Greeks are wonderful with hospitality,” Marc explained. “They always offer free desserts and a free shot with every meal.” He paused thoughtfully, as he raised his shot to Hilary, then added, “Hilary and I always talked about going there together. You remember, Hilary?”

Hilary’s cheeks burned. She placed her shot glass back on the table and took a deep breath.

“But there’s no reason we can’t still go,” Marc continued, his shot glass still raised. “Maybe the three of us could go and rent a boat? We could sail the islands together.”

Aria watched her mother intently, understanding the horror that played out in her mother’s mind.What good was a trip to Greece when you couldn’t see it?

Hilary’s eyes welled with tears, and several dripped onto the tablecloth. Marc looked mortified. He placed his shot glass back on the table and took Hilary’s hand. “Hil, did I say something wrong? Hey! Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Hilary shook her head wildly, her chest inflating in and out. Aria took Hilary’s other hand and nodded, urging her to say it, to finally tell them what was on her mind. She didn’t want to live in a lie anymore.

“Mom. Please?” Aria breathed.

The sound of Aria’s voice seemed to trigger something in Hilary. She took a deep breath, released both of their hands, and mopped her face with a napkin.

“Yes. Well. It sounds silly, I guess. But I’ve had problems with my eyes.”

Marc furrowed his brow. “What kind of problems?”

Hilary waved her hand. “It’s hard to explain. I thought it would all go away, but it’s clear that it isn’t. So, I went to the doctor the other day, and they did a few tests and found out that, well…” She smiled, as though she was trying to convince both them and herself that this was a very light topic, then added, “I have an advanced form of glaucoma. And if I don’t have surgery immediately, I could eventually go blind.”

Aria’s jaw dropped. Immediately, she flung herself onto her mother, hugging her like her life depended on it, as, on the other side of Hilary, Marc had begun to list every successful eye surgeon he knew across the United States and Europe. Neither Hilary nor Aria listened, but it was sweet that his very first instinct was to do anything he could to help, even if that meant, right now, naming names.

“Oh, Mom,” Aria breathed into her mother’s shoulder. “Oh, gosh.”

Hilary dropped her head onto Aria’s and sighed. Marc got the hint and waved Kostos down to pay the bill swiftly, which he took care of without question. A moment later, the three of them were in a cab headed back to Marc’s apartment, as Marc refused to let them go back to the hotel.

“It’s too impersonal,” he said. “We need to be together as a family right now. And the bed I have in the guest room is better than any hotel bed you’ll ever find.”

Hilary nodded, remaining quiet. “I don’t know if I can sleep. I haven’t since I found out. It’s like I want to keep my eyes open as long as I can, you know?”

Aria and Marc exchanged worried glances, although both of them could understand what Hilary meant. You would want to cling to the thing you were losing. It was only natural.

Aria hadn’t been to Marc’s apartment since her visit to San Francisco three years ago, but the apartment was no less impressive than it had been to her then. Like Rodrick’s, it was situated on the top floor and featured three bedrooms, two bathrooms, two balconies, and a state-of-the-art kitchen that Marc said he often used, especially after he spent six months in Italy learning how to cook. In the kitchen, he removed a bottle of rosé from the fridge and said, “Who wants a glass?” Hilary and Aria both nodded and went out onto the balcony, which was chilly in the fifty-degree night. Marc soon came out with big blankets and glasses of wine, making sure they were comfortable before he took a seat beside them. The cold didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he said it made his breathing easier.

“If you don’t mind,” Hilary said, as both Marc and Aria peered at her nervously, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m just trying to process it. Okay?”

Aria and Marc nodded, although they both burned to know more.When was the surgery going to happen? Did the doctor give any indication that it would definitely heal her? Or was it risky?

Instead, Hilary surprised Aria with what she wanted to talk about. “Marc? Do you remember the night I told you I was pregnant?”

At this, Marc’s face broke open with an enormous smile— one entirely unlike his arrogant one. One that reminded her of the much younger and much less rich man he’d been before his life in San Francisco.

“Gosh. How could I forget?” Marc glanced nervously at Aria, who burned with curiosity. All her life, she’d wanted a story like this— one that helped heal the sorrow she had for the fact that her father hadn’t wanted to be her father, not in a real sense. Not the way the other kids’ fathers had.

“Should I tell it?” Marc asked after a moment of silence.

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