A Subtle Fire* – Part 1
"Oh!"
A dolphin shot out of the water in front of them flapping its tail its silvery streaked body luminescent in the crystal-clear water. They'd watched them before riding the bow wave as if in joy, diving down to the depths and sliding back up for a breath of air before disappearing under again, their dorsal fins breaking the water effortlessly, creating their own small bow waves.
One dark grey day back in January when the whole world seemed set against them, they had pored over the brochures Rachel had brought home from the travel agency; bright images promising far off delights. They investigated other places but returned again and again to the thought of the island of Lesbos renowned as much for its reputation with the gay community as for its beauty.
Passports organised and flights booked, eventually the long-awaited day arrived, and Matthew drove them to the Charlottetown airport. First, they had to fly to Toronto to catch a connecting flight to Athens. They sat in the lounge and tried to calm down murmuring affirmations to each other. It was the first time in the air for either of them.
Rachel had a window seat and Marilla an aisle. Even before take-off Marilla was smoking a cigarette and she was not alone the cabin was full of blue grey smoke. The young flight attendant in her peaked hat and short skirt offered to place their hand luggage in an overhead storage shelf. Shortly after they were offered a drink and they both took a gin and tonic, as much to settle their nerves as anything. As the plane trundled along the tarmac out to the runway the attendants ran through the safety announcements. Marilla could see that most people took no notice, but she watched avidly. If something did go wrong, she wanted to be one of the survivors.
With a tremendous rattle and roaring engines the craft took off down the runway, it seemed incredible that such a behemoth could ever make it off the ground but with a small jolt it started to rise and they tilted back in the seat as the nose lifted and took the rest of the aircraft with it. Craning over Rachel's head Marilla could see the earth drop away and they grasped each other's hands in excitement.
They Were Off!
After that things settled down somewhat. An attendant brought them another drink with a bag of peanuts, and they flicked through the inflight magazine which promised even more exotic locations; India, Australia, Paris. Rachel pointed out an article about Greece showing the bright blue roofs of Santorini, "we're trend setters Marilla," she said with a smile.
"Oh you." It seemed inconceivable.
Many cigarettes later the Captain made the announcement that they were beginning their descent into Toronto. They had got pretty well used to flying by this point, but landing seemed daunting. When the plane landed with a thump the brakes were applied, and they were forced forwards in their seats and had to brace themselves with their knees.
Toronto Airport was a confusing array of people, airport gates and traffic, but they asked directions and were sent to the right gate. Fortunately, their luggage was booked all the way through to Athens, so they were able to forget it until then.
The plane to Greece was larger. This time they were sitting together near the aisle. When the plane was cruising at some incredible height Rachel grinned of a sudden and turned her head towards Marilla winking conspiratorially as she whispered in her ear. Marilla looked shocked then smiled back, "does it count?"
Rachel nodded. "It does if we say it does." Marilla's long skirt swished as she sashayed down the aisle. The bathroom was closed so they waited until the previous occupant had finished. There was really only room for one, especially since Rachel was on the heavier side, but they squeezed in and just managed to shut the door behind them. "Thank goodness we don't do it the traditional way," gasped Marilla as she yanked Rachel's skirt up.
"Mm," relied Rachel as she stuck her hand down Marilla's knickers. "Might be easier, really. I'm certainly not kneeling down. Now what?" she asked when they had finished.
"Now we walk out with our heads held high," Marilla said confidently. Their fellow passengers looked on in shock when Marilla was followed out of tiny cubicle by the heftier Rachel. Marilla could hear their exclamations as they walked back to their seats.
The movie had started by the time they returned and they sat down and watched Chinatown with the rest of the passengers on one small screen. The sound through their headphones was tinny and hard to hear and the movie not that great in the first place, but it was better than nothing. When the screen rose up into the ceiling the cabin lights dimmed, and everyone settled down for the night. Marilla was not tired so instead she put on her light and pulled out her book, The Joy of Sex.
Athens' airport made Toronto's seem tame by comparison. Masses of people slept on the floor using luggage as pillows with small children in their laps. "Maybe there's a problem?" mused Rachel, but this was just business as usual for the overstretched airport. Athens was miraculous. A somewhat dirty but incredibly ancient city with the Parthenon looming over, able to be seen from any vantage point. Fringed by dry hills the city pulsated with energetic crowds. Old crones invariably dressed in black ("Someone's always died," commented Rachel) toddled around looking for bargains while gangs of young men looked for women. They had booked a hotel and a taxi delivered them there, the driver screeching at all and sundry in increasingly strident invective.
"You know," said Marilla to Rachel's pink face as they looked out across the city from the inconceivably ancient pillars of the Parthenon on the Acropolis, "I don't think I've ever been so hot." They made their way down to the Plaka below and found a nice little taverna for lunch. They washed their tzatziki and taramasalata down with copious amounts of retsina before retiring back to their hotel for the afternoon siesta.
A street market diverted them the next day and they bought fruit, cherries, plums and peaches to sustain them on the ferry journey. Clothing stalls beckoned too, and they slowed down to peruse blouses and dresses, trying on a few and enjoying the bargaining process. Their bags weighed a bit more, but their wardrobes were considerably nicer. Small children ran at and around them like a flock of birds discombobulating Marilla, the stall keeper shooed them out of the way roughly. When Rachel looked upset the shop assistant mimicked pickpocketing and they realised the whole thing was ruse to separate them from their money and were less upset by her actions.
The next day they boarded the ferry to the islands. All manner of folk were there, local families huddled around eating home-made dolmades and spanakopita; young tourists and older ones like themselves; businessmen in suits, their ties looking uncomfortable. They watched fascinated from the upper deck as the cars streamed into the ferry at the next island. A circus was loading for an island tour, the elephant's truck yawed from side to side as the beast shifted its weight uneasily.
Santorini, or Thira as it was known officially, loomed above the ship, dark grey cliffs topped with a white-washed town with bright blue roofs. It was stunning from a distance and even prettier close up. Santorini was actually the remains of an ancient volcano, the main island the edge of the mountain and smaller one the cone. Their hotel located in a traditional building was welcoming. "Let's go exploring," Marilla suggested after they had settled in.
Narrow alleyways led around in circles and it was easy to get lost, but the town was small enough. One bar was offering a sunset view over the caldera and they weaved through the throng to find an empty table and ordered wine. It was rather special sitting there looking at the sun setting with the hubbub around them. The air was still warm, but the harsh heat of the full sun had dissipated now leaving a gentle warmth.
"You know," Rachel said as she swallowed her moussaka, "I don't really like retsina."
Marilla roared with laughter, "I don't either. I just order it because it's the local drink."
"Too piney for me," said Rachel with a grimace.
"Let's get some red wine instead," suggested Marilla.
"No," insisted the waiter, "you ladies need to try our famous metaxa." With a flourish he produced two small glasses and a bottle of the new alcohol. After dinner they managed to locate the hotel again and relaxed in their room. "Oh," sighed Rachel, "those cobblestones are hard on the feet."
"Let me," said Marilla and they enjoyed a mutual foot massage that night.
The next morning the clanging church bells woke them first thing. "Oh no," Rachel stuffed a pillow over her aching head. The metaxa slipped down easily enough, but she was paying the price that morning.
Bump, bump, bump. The donkey knew just how to inflict the greatest pain as it walked as close to the wall as possible, closer even; scraping Marilla's knees painfully against the wall. The small animal looked friendly enough before she got on, but Marilla supposed it had a dull life carrying tourists up and down the steep path to the dock every day, it had every right to its act of defiance. She grimaced at Rachel who was suffering similarly. Back and forth on the zig-zagging path, down and down the donkey took them, its knees and theirs screaming out by the end.
A small boat bobbed up and down in the clear water at the pier and they held onto the crewmember's hand as they made their way over the gangplank. The boat trip out to the caldera took little enough time and they wandered around the landscape marvelling at its bleak beauty before taking the boat back to town. This time they took the more comfortable bus back up the winding road instead of the donkey.
On Perissa Beach the black sand squeaked between Marilla's toes as she and Rachel paddled along the waterside, their sarongs flapping in the breeze. They walked together or separated at times when one saw a pretty shell or piece of coral to inspect. Marilla carried a small collection in her hands, and Rachel had one of her own. At points Marilla grew too hot and she lay her sarong on the hot sand, took a wild look at Rachel and ran down the beach and into the water, relishing its welcoming embrace. The water was refreshing but not freezing like the sea back home. Laying on their backs floating in the gentle swell, their toes sticking out and gently moving their hands back and forth they could float for hours. Marilla had to work slightly harder at it than more buoyant Rachel. They developed a trick of submerging and finding each other's lips under water and in that way catching a sneaky kiss. That night in bed, they relished the salty tang of the water's residue on each other's bodies.
At the beach the next day they sat on the sand and watched in fascination as a tanned and muscly youth appeared out of the sea sloshing his way out from the depths, an octopus in his hand coiled its tentacles up his forearm in a futile attempt to free itself, its ink dripping into the water unheeded. "His mother will be pleased, no doubt," Rachel remarked. "That's dinner I'll wager." Marilla shuddered when she heard the puck puck puck of the animal's suckers releasing as the boy pulled himself free only for another tentacle or four to coil around his arm. The boy shook his hair sending an arc of water droplets from his long black hair. He walked past kicking up black sand as he went and disappeared into the town behind them. "Fancy that," said Marilla.
"Something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore," Rachel remarked flatly. Marilla raised her eyes.
Lunch was a delicious array of delicacies though they decided against the octopus on this occasion. Marilla particularly loved the way they marinated the lamb, but the white bait was Rachel's favourite. Both women adored the fried cheese and the salads. A bottle of the local wine completed the meal. Marilla had been to the post office to collect some mail and was intrigued to find one from Anne on this occasion. Anne had been rather quiet since she and 'little v' as they christened him had driven off through the snow that dismal winter's day. She slit open Anne's aerogram with her knife and unfolded the flimsy blue paper.
Marilla had been terribly hurt by Anne's betrayal but somehow, she felt sitting in that Greek taverna that nothing Anne could say now could upset her, still she was delighted to read: I am most dreadfully sorry for my actions at Christmas, Marilla. That and other things vyvian did made me question his morals. I should have told you earlier. But well I admit I did feel a bit guilty and that kept me away. But now I have wonderous news. I have a new boyfriend. No, don't be like that, it isn't just on the rebound. Actually, you know him already, it's Gilbert Blythe. Yes, my old school chum. Someone introduced us at a party, and we said we already knew each other. Of course, that let to us telling them the old story of getting stuck together. We had a long chat when the attention shifted, and he ended up taking me home. Nothing happened that night, I promise. But we have been out a few times since and well, Marilla, he gave me a friendship ring the other day. It's funny I was always kind of desperate to get away from the Avonlea boys, but now I find I'm with one after all and it's fun. I never really paid him much attention before, but it is nice to have a shared history…
Marilla looked up at Rachel, tears flowing down her cheeks.
"So, Anne's with John Blythe's boy now," said Rachel approvingly. "I always said they'd make a good match."
"You did?"
"Well I never said it to you. I thought it might be too close to the bone, as it were, but ask anyone."
Marilla scoffed, "well since there's no one here I guess I'll have to believe you."
Changing the subject Rachel said, "are we finished, shall I get the bill?" she waved her hand in the air. "I think it's siesta time, don't you?"
Their love making that afternoon took on a new fervour. Marilla had not realised how Anne's betrayal had upset her on a deeper level and with the news she was able to truly relax for the first time in months. Rachel stuffed the sheets in Marilla's mouth to save their neighbours as her cries of exhilaration rang out across the room. Marilla pounded the bed with her fist as wave after wave of euphoria washed over her. She fell to sleep straight after leaving Rachel unsatisfied. Rachel lay next to her watching her sleep and closed her eyes somewhat frustrated. Marilla stirred about the same time Rachel did and looked across at her. "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," Rachel reassured her.
"No, you put up with years of that nonsense," Marilla said as she tip-toed her fingers across Rachel's arm watching as the hair rose in anticipation.
"Anne's letter made you … hap-py," gasped Rachel as Marilla's fingers trailed down her abdomen. Marilla kissed her passionately her teeth gently pulling at her bottom lip, her tongue plunging into the depths as her fingers continued to caress ever southwards …
"Yes," replied Marilla much later. Rachel knew what she was referring to when she added, "it feels right somehow. I guess I always thought in some ridiculous way that Gilbert could have been my son in another life and if that couldn't be; at least if Anne is with him then he might be part of the family."
"Well they're not married yet, I guess."
"No, but I think Anne might be finally settling down."
"Well we can but hope, I suppose."
"Mm, hm," agreed Marilla as she snuggled into Rachel's back.
"Back on the ferry tomorrow, how do you feel about Lesbos?" Rachel asked, but Marilla was already asleep.
* Sappho