"Mum!" A shrill voice yelled across the pool. It brought me out of my little daydream. My body tensed, prepared for the bombardment of little people. I opened my eyes. The sun shaded by the large dark glasses rested on my nose. I knew it wasn't for me. I had been mum for more than 18 years now, but my children were grown. I cringed when I caught sight of the small boy. He was running at speed, across the wet floor narrowly missing the pool with his quick feet. I followed him with my shaded eyes, watched him run into the arms of a young woman. She was smiling, creases formed at the corner of her eyes. For 17 long years, “relaxing by the pool” meant sitting on the edge of a sun bed and watching as the pair of kids almost fell in the pool or smashed their head. My holidays used to be stress and adventure all rolled into one. I craved the pressure of a holiday with the kids as I watched the young mother cradle her boy in a fluffy blue towel.
I let the sun wash me into a stupor once more. The distant music from the bar lulled me into a floating sleep. My skin was raw when I woke. Even at 42 I still hadn’t mastered the trick of putting enough sun lotion on. The sun was low, the pool empty. Families started arriving at the on-site restaurant. I caught their glances of concern. I felt their assumptions bore into my skin and I started to itch. I gathered my bag, shoved my untouched book on top of my towel and hurried off to my room.
The icy steam pulled me out of my waking coma, my hands clenched, I hadn't even washed my hair yet and the hot water was gone. I take the cold water like a warrior, quick and swift. I leave the steamed bathroom and start to contemplate my evening, first though, dinner. Do I go to the on-site restaurant? Suffer more presumptuous looks, eat some more salty pork and have the same glass of wine as the last 3 nights. Or do I venture into the village for the first time? Try a new dish, try some new wine, perhaps a beer. The panic of decision-making flooded my head while I prepared the dressing table with the hair dryer. With the loud whirring I lost sight of myself in the mirror. The only thing I had packed suitable for a night on the town was a blue linen dress that my daughters had bought me. The colour was horrid in my opinion. But they insisted I looked good and would look better with a tan.
"Mum, you are so brave doing this trip alone, we bought you some bits."
The pair of them besieged my house with bags of clothes, shoes, hair accessories and worst of all, condoms. Yes, my adult children packed some condoms for my first holiday alone.
"You never know." The cheekiest one slipped them into the underwear compartment, where they remain, in protest.
My shoes had not been worn yet, they slipped on the tile outside my room. I saved myself an embarrassment and grabbed the chair by my door. As I wandered past the on-site restaurant, I caught a glimpse of the small boy from the pool this afternoon. He was arguing with his mother about the vegetables on his plate. I resonated with the shame in her eyes. Other parents only seem to notice you when your child is acting up and refusing what is good for them. The guilt and shame work overtime to aggravate the anxiety that is always waiting to attack. I'd take a miss on the restaurant tonight, let's see what the village taverna has to offer.
I took a table outside of the first place that smelled like heaven. I was taken back to 2 years ago. My sister insisted I went on a blind date she set up for me. Luckily for me the other half of the date never showed, and I had the chance to enjoy my own company for the evening. I spent my life with a person I loved, and I never wanted to try these things alone. A lovely young man approached my table and disturbed my reminiscing, he brought a glass of wine and bottle of beer.
"Are you waiting for your date to join you?"
I laughed in response.
"No, I'm ready to order."
I ordered the wine for myself and bottle of the beer because it was Mythos, my husband used to drink it on our Greek holidays. I would finish both drinks before desert. As I waited on my food, I watched the sun setting behind the mountains and then the rays illuminating the ocean. Boats were returning to port and English people were starting to get drunk. I could hear a distant bar playing football on the telly, accompanied by many British cheers of disappointment.
“How is your food, my love?”
My heart broke, he always visited me at times of joy. Always there to remind me I’m not truly alone. He lives in my heart and my head.
“It is wonderful, reminds me of our first holiday to Greece, when we had nothing but 40 euros to our name and spent the last of it enjoying the sun set with a house wine and a house beer.”
He chuckled, his eyes fell on me, full of love. I ached to touch him.
“Are you having fun?”
“Not without you, or the girls. I’m poor company to keep.”
“Nah you’re not, you are just not taking enough risk.” I blushed as he scolded me.
“You’d love this lamb; look it just falls apart.”
He nodded.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I’m going to finish that book, I've only read about 10 pages, just cannot focus.”
“Hmmm, almost like you could be doing something way more exciting.” His eyes flashed at me.
“I just want to relax.”
“Nah, you don’t.”
He faded when the young man approached again. He brought with him another glass of wine.
“Sorry, I didn’t order this.”
“The owner has sent this, on the house.” he placed the glass in front of me. “Thank you.” I looked around the inside of the bar and waved at the older gentleman stood at the end of it.
The walk back to the hotel was quieter than I anticipated. The crowds were still terrorising the bars, drunken antics taking place on the tables. I headed straight for my room. The sun had wiped all my energy and the families in the hotel seemed to have written me off as a lonely drunk who sleeps by the pool. I laid on the bed, the wine swimming in my head. And here he was again.
“Twice in one night?” I kept my eyes closed but I could feel him near me.
“I am always here, my love.”
“I know, I wish I could always feel you.”
“Drop the book, you’re not going to finish it before your flight home anyway.”
I huffed in reply.
“That Greek man at the bar was interested. Why don’t you ask him out tomorrow?”
I scoffed and almost choked on spit.
“I’m not joking, you’ve been tackling this life all alone for almost 3 years. The girls want to see you happy. I want to see you happy.”
The one-way conversation continued. Maybe this was the first sign I was going mad.
“If you don’t ask him out, then go sky diving.”
I opened my eyes at this.
“You need to do something that will scare you my love, remind you that you are alive.”
“But I died when you did!” The volume scared me, I hadn’t expected myself to scream at him. I thought all the anger I felt towards him had gone with the ache of grief, but it returned like a boulder dropped on my chest. I couldn’t feel him anymore and for the first time this holiday, I felt truly alone.
“Hi, um, I’m looking for some excursions while I'm here. I leave on the 17th and would like something a little adventurous?”
The small woman behind the counter smiled and reached under the desk.
“These are the ones available to book through us, we also have a travel desk in the village that may have some other options for you.” Her smile remained as she handed me a leaflet.
I took a seat in the waiting area and flicked through. I hated making decisions, it caused an irrational panic within me. They all looked good, beautiful spots surrounded by the cyan ocean and the soft sandy beaches. Boat trips out to remote islands and party boats that land in prime clubbing spots for the night. None of it took my fancy. I closed my eyes and slammed my finger down onto the page.
Theodoros Shipwreck Dive.
Thalassophobia, be gone.
I approached the desk once more. The woman’s welcoming smile grated into my soul this time.
“Have you found something to your liking?”
“No, but I would like to go diving, I found this shipwreck?” I handed the leaflet over and pointed to the picture. It was a boat at the bottom of the ocean covered in barnacles and sea moss.
The next morning, I was fighting back vomit. The minibus arrived and I was the only passenger. I hadn’t felt my heart beat so much or so fast in years. He was right, I needed to do something that meant I was living rather than just surviving. The bus took an hour and a half to get to the diving club and then it was 20 minutes on a boat. The boyish instructor gave all safety talks and fastened us in for our dangerous plight. I was teamed up with 3 other people and the older lead instructor took our team first. Getting into the ocean was no feat, I had swum in the ocean before, but the depth below me and the instructor insisting it was time to go under caused my heart to near stop. One of the young lasses in my group grabbed my wrist tight, reassured me and essentially pulled me under. I didn’t have time to thank her as we left for opposite directions of the island, but I will be forever grateful for that little push I needed. It was amazing, history long forgotten right in front of my eyes.
I spied the port of the local village as we slowed on our way back to the hotel. It looked different from this angle; the sun was not setting beneath the ocean but instead illuminating the sails of the boats rocking in port. I gathered my handbag and the backpack I had brought with me. I was starved. I almost settled back into my seat when the divine scent of fall-apart lamb climbed into my nostrils.
“Sorry, would you mind just dropping me here, I think I want to grab food at that Taverna just there.”
“No worry.” He pulled to a stop right in front of the only giftshop I had seen here.
“Thank you so much, get home safe.” I disembarked, waited on the path and waved him off.
The tavern was a just a short walk back toward the village. I claimed the same seat as the first time I came, and the boy server brought me wine.
“I haven’t ordered yet.”
“This one is on the house.” he winked at me and walked back toward the bar.
I allowed my eyes to follow him and the gentleman sending me drinks intercepted my line of sight. I gave him a little smile and a nod.
“Go in there and talk to him, at least thank him for the drink.” I heard his voice in my head, and I felt my legs lift me to a stand. Before I could protest, I was inside.
“I was hoping you’d be back, panémorfi gynaíka.” He winked at me and my face was suddenly 100 degrees.
“The wine, it's just so good here.” I shrugged and clambered into a seat at the bar. A smile had invaded my face at some point, but I couldn’t make it leave.
“Are you here long?”
“Only got a few days left, then I'm going back to sunny old England.”
“Perhaps I could change your mind.”
Tassos took me back to my hotel that evening, he met me again in the morning and insisted on taking me to the local history spots. We laughed and giggled like teenagers. I told him of my love, and he told me of his. We were both young widows and he told me that his son had made him send the wine, just as a gesture. I was woeful when I approached the airport with my luggage in tow. I should have taken the opportunity to live sooner on this trip.
I opened my phone. I starred at Tassos’ number for well over 20 minutes. Should I text him now? No, I should wait until I land first.
“Be happy, my love.”
I sent the text.
/Hi Tassos, this has been a wonderful holiday, and you only made it better. We both deserve happiness. Do something this week that scares you. Good luck and hopefully we’ll speak soon./
/Panémorfi gynaíka, you are what scares me./
It was only now I realized he had been calling me Beautiful Woman for the past 3 days.
I never heard from my love again, but Tassos came to England a month later and I am due to go back to Corfu before the end of the year, no hotel needed.
