Santorini

The sun was beaming charitably over the little village of Oia, tracing gentle warm rays over snow white, cubistic buildings handsomely divergent against the bluest of seas, the yonder islands envisioned as darker indigo shades in the haze of the distance. It was one of those serene afternoons when nothing really happened save for the ticking of the clock in the tower of the old court house across the street. Even the tourists were sparse this time of the year, when the season had yet to begin in earnest.

So for the elderly men by the small bar the thundering sound of the motorcycle made them all perk up from their glasses of ouzo. It was a heavy and powerful Yamaha, large as a bull and bright red, but the brawny man riding it was handling it with astonishing affluence as he drove across the square and over to the sole parking lot in a place where the alleys were too narrow for motorized vehicles. As the monstrous machine came to a halt, the rider and his female passenger stepped off with ease and with graceful movements they relieved themselves of their shiny helmets.

The tall man appeared to be in his twenties, his hair was ash-blond and spiky and the woman who lovingly took his hand appeared to be of the same age, perhaps one or two years younger and her long hair was a lustrous dark brown. It flew like smoke around her head as she churned a slender hand through it to push it back from her lovely face and get rid of the resident static from the helmet.

"Lucky him," one of the men was saying to his friends. "He caught himself a photo model!"
"You know who he is?" another asked as the duo started to close in on the bar.
"Never seen him around here before. They don't make them this blond at our island, you know."
"And seldom twice the size of regular men either, what can he be, seven feet five?"
"More than eight, I bet my car on that."
"As if anyone would be interested in that piece of junk anyway."
"It's a BMW, show some respect!"
"Yes, an antediluvian one. Are you sure it runs on gas and not hay?"

The blond man shot them a quick glance before he and his exquisite companion disappeared inside of the bar. The stout, middle-aged woman by the bar looked up from her accounting as the duo passed through the door and a small bell chimed. Her brows rocketed up halfway to the hairline when she noted that the blond man had to duck in the door opening to avoid hitting his head.

"Good afternoon, milady" he greeted, holding out a hand big as a shovel, while he and his companion came up to the counter. "The name is Leon Aquila; I'm here to acquire a key. I'm letting a bungalow in the vicinity, see." He then reached inside of the inner pocket of his red biker's jacket, produced a folded letter and a driver's license and placed them on the counter. With a frown the barkeeper retrieved them. Sure the name on the license was correct and she did recall Orsiaon Aquila from about two decades back when he had visited Santorini and bought the place. This lad was apparently his nephew; he seemed to be quite the chip from the old block, just as hefty and handsome as Orsiaon had been. But his Greek was odd, old-fashioned and with quite the exotic lilt.

She disregarded the painful memories this encounter brought through, bent down beneath the counter to retrieve a small plastic envelope she had been keeping for quite a few years. Standing up again she handed it over to Leon Aquila who in turn gave it to the stunning woman next to him.
"I'm June Verselli," she held out a slender, well-manicured hand and a bit awkwardly the bar-keeper took it. "Can you tell us a good place nearby where we might stock up groceries?"
"Um, yes, there's one right around the corner from here. Mr. Veolis' place," she indicated with her thumb. Now that was an accent she recognized, June Verselli could be nothing but Italian. These people came here all the time.
"Thank you," June Verselli flashed off a charming smile. "We sure must stop by here for dinner one day," she added before she tucked her hand under the arm of her large companion and they turned and walked out the door.

"Oh my," the bar-keeper suddenly heard her daughter Irini's voice from behind. She'd exited the kitchen during the conversation with the newly arrivals, and with her was her friend Julia. "What a man! Did you see him?"
"God-like," Julia replied. "I'm sure he's some kind of actor. Too bad he seems to be taken."
"Ain't them all," Irini replied sadly.
"Don't you have work to do, girls?" the bar-keeper huffed.
"The bread is in the oven, mother," Irini protested. "We were just checking if we could be of some aid."
"Well, you can't! Now you'd better start with tonight's dinner or nothing will be ready on time."
"As if we're going to get that many guests tonight, save for that stuck-up French film-producer," Irini shook her head, but she and Julia complied and returned to their job.

"What was it with her?" Julia asked as soon as they were without hearing range.
"Guess it was that Naruto look-alike," Irini shrugged it off. "I presume he reminds mother of my long-gone dad. He was also ash-blond and twice the size of regular men."

*o*o*o*o*

"Was this really such a good idea?" Hera asked as they turned the last corner and walked down a winding blend between an alley and a staircase and up to a small house sitting a bit to the side, perched on the edge of the cliff. "I mean, the old country, you know, it brings up so many weird recollections inside of me."
"Wait 'till you see the view from this place," Zeus promised her as he opened the slightly rusty gate, listening to it creak as it fanned open. So different from the hyper-modern entrance to his apartment-building in Tokyo. "Besides, almost everything here is different these days, there's very little remaining of what was once Hellas. Greece is its own place and I like it because of its beauty and its languid pace, so different from the constant volatility of Japan."

"Yes, I noted those men by the bar," Hera grinned. "They looked like they had all the time in the world and that my leather clad ass was the most interesting happening today."
"But it IS interesting," Zeus returned and Hera huffed and showed him gently.
"Besides you've got your admirers as well," she went on as Zeus unlocked the door to the bungalow. "Those girls in the bar, they looked like they couldn't stop ogling."

Zeus nodded his head almost uncomfortably. He sure remembered Cecilia and those hot nights in the early nineties, back when she had been pretty and slender and without that spleen marrowing her features. He was certain that the tall and lanky redhead in the door opening had been the results of those nights. However, he didn't intend to bother his mind with that, not when he had his number one price here with him, re-gained against all odds.

And Hera – she had stopped by the threshold and took in the room, first with a small gasp of surprise and admiration, then with a gentle smile dawning on her lips while taking in the two-roomer. This was nothing like the opulence she was used to from Zeus. This place was quite small, yet airy and simple bordering on rustic. A combined living room and kitchen with a large panoramic window facing a terrace with a small pool and the most breathtaking view over the sea. The pantry part was tiny still it seemed to have all the commodities needed and there was a round meal table made out of tough wood with place for four, five if you were prepared to huddle. Next to it was a sofa suite which looked worn but comfy. Pretty art with local motifs hung on the walls, but there was also a Miró, which looked like it had been included by mistake. It probably hadn't. Through an open door she could glimpse a bedroom with a large four poster bed resting in dusk and her grin grew wider, she could imagine them spending quite some of time there.

"I take it you like it," her beloved smiled as his arms encircled her slim waist; it still felt surreal to her. Ever since that hot night in Tokyo two months ago, when they had re-united in more sense than one, had she feared that she was living a fragile dream, waiting for wake-up time at any moment. That this wonderful experience would shatter into irreparable fragments. But it hadn't. For some reason it worked between the two of them, feeling almost like those early years back in the ancient days. However they were older now, more mature and more attentive to the other one's feelings. Zeus had improved just as she and they were both fully intent on treating each other with all the esteem and care there were. Still without backing the other one into a corner, instead offering room to breathe as well as nearness.

"I don't," she replied and felt him tense for a millisecond before she added, "I love it!"
"That gladdens me so much," he whispered in her ear. "I spent a lot of time getting this right, you know."
"You did?" she caressed his hands.
"Yes, acquiring this look of naturally assembled randomness is quite a bit harder than bringing out the big moneybag and strive for luxury. Then it's just about paying the correct amount. Now I had to spend years to find the very right items, like that worn old cupboard in the corner, which hides the stereo system. Or the sheep skin in the sofa. Or the wrought iron lamp in the ceiling."
"Looks like you had fun doing it nonetheless," she let hear a tiny laughter and he joined in.
"Not as fun as taking you here, I admit." Then he shifted position. "Now, the bags will arrive in about an hour. We'll have time for a quickie before that, I assume."

"Okay, when will I get a slowie then?" she teased him, turning her head so she could reach his cheek for a small peck.
"Later tonight, I suggest. After a walk around the village, when there's still daylight and then a dinner somewhere, what you say?"
"That I can hardly wait 'til after dinner."
"Oh, you're insatiable!"
"Look who's talking!"

*o*o*o*o*

Hours later, and way into the night, Hera and Zeus were laying together in the large bed, listening to the sound of the crickets mingling with the distant voices of some late night strollers outside the window. Slanted moonlight was glittering in the outside pool, painting glittering mercury patterns in the ceiling and the evening might be crisp but there was a promise in the air that the chill was ephemeral, that warmer weather was on its way, drifting up from the south.

"I'm beginning to dare hoping now," she said as she felt across his broad chest. "Dare hoping that we can actually make it work this time."
"You do," she heard the mirth in his voice. "I might be braver than you in that sense then, my love; because I began hoping the very day I was able to convince you to come here to Santorini."
"But you're right; it's such a beautiful place. It's like made for mending old relations. There's something in the air, like a remedy. You wind down, feel your shoulders relax, your brain catch up and the pieces in the puzzle finally beginning to fit in."

"And do I fit in?" Zeus asked as he stroke her arm, cupped his hand across her shoulder and feeling the velvety warmth beneath his palm, the fragrance of her hair mixing with that of the bed linen and the ambient salt of the air from the sea.
"Yes you do," she breathed across his collarbone. "You were always there, painted upon some pieces which I had hidden in the drawer and didn't dare to bring out. Over the time I forced myself to forget they were there, and I tried to fit other pieces into that puzzle. Later manufactured things."

"Other men?"
"Yes. A few gods but mostly random mortals. But they never did conform. There was always some gap here some chafing there, colours and textures that were unbecoming."
"And now, is your puzzle looking better now?"
"You bet it does."

He was silent for a while. Somewhere a dog let up its voice, three rapid barks, before becoming silent again and far in the distance a lorry or a bus blew its horn.
"I won't disappoint you again, Hera. That's a promise you deserve and which I'm willing to give. All those things I did, the womanizing, the betrayals, the pitching of the children against you and against each other, I know they hurt you. I hurt you. I did it so bad that I destroyed what we had, hardly ever giving it a second thought. Not until it became too late. I won't do that again."

"I was at fault too, Zeus," she snuggled up closer to him, heard the echo of his heart beat as she rested her ear against his chest. "I became spiteful and bitter. Hateful and arrogant as my emotional life dried up and I became unable to perceive the small aspects of life which is so important in a relation. You weren't the only one who made mistakes back then."
"But I forced you into that cul de sac. Then I blamed you for getting stuck there. Failed to comprehend I was in the way for your chance to leave it."

"Zeus?"
"Yes?"
"Can we not talk about these things anymore," she whispered. "What has been has been and we cannot go back and change it. What we have instead is now and the future. Let's make the best things happen here and now and in the days to come instead."
"You're right sweetheart," he breathed out.
"And there's no use analyzing who did what and to whom either," she said with a gentle smile. "It's just painful."

"Hera?"
"Yes?" she sighed, fearing he was going to insist on analyzing the past. But he wasn't.
"I love you," he said. Finally he dared to let go of the bannister by saying these words. Finally he dared to open his soul to her without fearing to scare her off and to destroy this fragile-feeling vision.
"I love you too," she answered, her voice filled with a blend of passion and safety. They were the truest words having formed upon her lips in a long time, but first when saying them did she know how much she really meant it. She loved Zeus, she had always loved him. And she would always do.

"Do you know there's a beach here with black sand?"
"Really?"
"Volcanic sand," he said. "Do you wish to go there tomorrow?"
"Yes, indeed, that would be exciting."
"And we can pack goodies, and have a picnic."
"And sex on the beach."
"Yes," he laughed. "Seems like we're turning into quite the cliché you and I, heart of mine."
"I guess lovers do. Because love is old as mankind itself, it's hard to be original, everything has already been tried."
"I guess so too," he chuckled. "But I don't care. With you it's always new."

Sex on the beach, he could hardly wait.

- The End -