~ Hey you dropped your phone. ~
I remember the first time I saw those words appear on my skin. I remember I was taking out the freshly baked Horiatiko psomi from the oven when I felt a feathery feeling on my forearm. I remember letting go of the tray as if burned by Hades and gone to Hell, and I remember lightly touching the words afraid that it would suddenly go away.
I remember Mother coming in the kitchen, vaguely hearing her screams in the background, but suddenly stopping when she saw me half on my way to the floor while holding my arm.
The rest of the events that happened afterwards became a blur to me, but when my parents understood what really happened, their answer was: “By Zeus, your soulmate”.
It has always been that on your 18th birthday, words will appear on your arm – words that the person you are destined for will first say to you, and you’ll know – you’ll know that person will be the one you will spend the rest of your life with.
I always knew that when I turned eighteen, those words would decorate my arm like a branding, a searing to myself that would signify I belonged to someone – but what I did not expect was, what in Athena’s name is a phone???
~ Hey you dropped your phone. ~
I looked at my arm again, looked at the words engraved on my skin.
It’s been 5 years, and I have not been any closer to finding my soulmate nor gaining knowledge on a phone.
I went back to the kitchen and took out the eliopsomo from the oven. After putting the tray on the counter, I put in the daktyla. Waiting for the bread to cool, I wiped my hands with my apron and went back front to see if regular customers were here. There were none, so I went about the day by starting my morning sweeping and the daily routine of putting out the bread for display.
By midday, many customers would come in asking for bread to take home for supper. Epirus was a Greek region famous for its artisan breadmakers, and so bread of all kinds can both be a staple and a luxury. Our small town in Epirus was not as famous as the other towns in the region, but as one of the closest to Mount Olympus, it has definitely made our town more interesting.
Since the bakery was along the main road, I could see the daily visitors and passersby who come from Aetolia and Achaea, who were interested to either go to Corfu to witness the Argonauts, or to northern Thessaly to pilgrimage to Mount Olympus and worship the gods.
~ Hey you dropped your phone. ~
Those damned words appear again like a reminder.
“Hey! Don’t touch it with your bare hands!” I heard someone hiss angrily. There were two women who entered my shop. One was trying to get the eliopsomo that were freshly baked with her bare hands, while the other one slapped her friend’s hands before she could take it. “We can just ask the baker for help.”
“My hands are clean, you know. And it’s not like I’ve put my hands down mud, did I?” was her friend’s reply, rubbing on her right arm gently.
“You wish!” her friend replied with a laugh. “You are not the most hygienic person I know, Katerina,” then turning to me, tried to get my attention, “Hey, Mr. Baker!”
I was helping Minerva, Mother’s best friend and our neighbor, pack up the bread she decided to bring home for today. After, I hurriedly entertained them and gave them a friendly smile. “You are not from around here, I take it,” I started. “What bread would you want to take?”
~ Hey you dropped your phone. ~
I automatically covered my hand on my arm, gently touching it. I know that no one can see the words on your skin besides your own, but that didn’t stop me from feeling it all the same.
Both girls looked very different from the visitors I have seen since I can remember. Upon closer inspection, they were both wearing tunics that ended in between their knees and ankles. One was wearing cream, and the other one, Katerina, was wearing deep ivory. “Please get us this flatbread, Mr. Baker,” the one in the cream, as I recognized the girl’s voice as the one who slapped her friend.
“In this town, Mr. Baker is my father,” I said with a smile while I got a bag to put their bread in. “My name is Alexander.”
“Thank you, Alexander,” the same girl replied after I gave them their order. Before they could leave, I told them to wait near the kitchen door because I’d give them something else, too. Father’s tradition to give first time visitors our daktyla endeared these travelers to come to our town again the next time they travel.
On my way out, a man suddenly appeared and accidentally bumped into me. Careful not to drop the bread and make the man fall, I tried to balance myself by holding on to both. “Forgive me, my friend, are you all right?” I asked, to which he replied with a shake of his head and hurriedly went out the bakery.
“Hey you dropped your phone.”
I looked up to see the girl in the deep ivory, Katerina, staring at me, pointing towards me. I automatically grasped my arm, thinking the words on my arms flutter across them, but looking again, I heard it more than I felt them. I dragged my eyes to the woman again and gaped at her.
“That is not mine,” I replied stupidly, but to which the Katerina’s eyes got bigger and simultaneously put one hand on her arm and another on her mouth.
“Oh shit,” I heard her say. Shit?
“You…” I started but couldn’t finish.
“You…” she said roughly at the same time but did not continue.
I remember the first time I saw those words appear on my skin. I remember I was taking out the freshly baked Horiatiko psomi from the oven when I felt a feathery feeling on my forearm. I remember letting go of the tray as if burned by Hades and gone to Hell, and I remember lightly touching the words afraid that it would suddenly go away.
I remember Mother coming in the kitchen, vaguely hearing her screams in the background, but suddenly stopping when she saw me half on my way to the floor while holding my arm.
The rest of the events that happened afterwards became a blur to me, but when my parents understood what really happened, their answer was: “By Zeus, your soulmate”.
It has always been that on your 18th birthday, words will appear on your arm – words that the person you are destined for will first say to you, and you’ll know – you’ll know that person will be the one you will spend the rest of your life with.
I always knew that when I turned eighteen, those words would decorate my arm like a branding, a searing to myself that would signify I belonged to someone – but what I did not expect was, what in Athena’s name is a phone???
~ Hey you dropped your phone. ~
I looked at my arm again, looked at the words engraved on my skin.
It’s been 5 years, and I have not been any closer to finding my soulmate nor gaining knowledge on a phone.
I went back to the kitchen and took out the eliopsomo from the oven. After putting the tray on the counter, I put in the daktyla. Waiting for the bread to cool, I wiped my hands with my apron and went back front to see if regular customers were here. There were none, so I went about the day by starting my morning sweeping and the daily routine of putting out the bread for display.
By midday, many customers would come in asking for bread to take home for supper. Epirus was a Greek region famous for its artisan breadmakers, and so bread of all kinds can both be a staple and a luxury. Our small town in Epirus was not as famous as the other towns in the region, but as one of the closest to Mount Olympus, it has definitely made our town more interesting.
Since the bakery was along the main road, I could see the daily visitors and passersby who come from Aetolia and Achaea, who were interested to either go to Corfu to witness the Argonauts, or to northern Thessaly to pilgrimage to Mount Olympus and worship the gods.
~ Hey you dropped your phone. ~
Those damned words appear again like a reminder.
“Hey! Don’t touch it with your bare hands!” I heard someone hiss angrily. There were two women who entered my shop. One was trying to get the eliopsomo that were freshly baked with her bare hands, while the other one slapped her friend’s hands before she could take it. “We can just ask the baker for help.”
“My hands are clean, you know. And it’s not like I’ve put my hands down mud, did I?” was her friend’s reply, rubbing on her right arm gently.
“You wish!” her friend replied with a laugh. “You are not the most hygienic person I know, Katerina,” then turning to me, tried to get my attention, “Hey, Mr. Baker!”
I was helping Minerva, Mother’s best friend and our neighbor, pack up the bread she decided to bring home for today. After, I hurriedly entertained them and gave them a friendly smile. “You are not from around here, I take it,” I started. “What bread would you want to take?”
~ Hey you dropped your phone. ~
I automatically covered my hand on my arm, gently touching it. I know that no one can see the words on your skin besides your own, but that didn’t stop me from feeling it all the same.
Both girls looked very different from the visitors I have seen since I can remember. Upon closer inspection, they were both wearing tunics that ended in between their knees and ankles. One was wearing cream, and the other one, Katerina, was wearing deep ivory. “Please get us this flatbread, Mr. Baker,” the one in the cream, as I recognized the girl’s voice as the one who slapped her friend.
“In this town, Mr. Baker is my father,” I said with a smile while I got a bag to put their bread in. “My name is Alexander.”
“Thank you, Alexander,” the same girl replied after I gave them their order. Before they could leave, I told them to wait near the kitchen door because I’d give them something else, too. Father’s tradition to give first time visitors our daktyla endeared these travelers to come to our town again the next time they travel.
On my way out, a man suddenly appeared and accidentally bumped into me. Careful not to drop the bread and make the man fall, I tried to balance myself by holding on to both. “Forgive me, my friend, are you all right?” I asked, to which he replied with a shake of his head and hurriedly went out the bakery.
“Hey you dropped your phone.”
I looked up to see the girl in the deep ivory, Katerina, staring at me, pointing towards me. I automatically grasped my arm, thinking the words on my arms flutter across them, but looking again, I heard it more than I felt them. I dragged my eyes to the woman again and gaped at her.
“That is not mine,” I replied stupidly, but to which the Katerina’s eyes got bigger and simultaneously put one hand on her arm and another on her mouth.
“Oh shit,” I heard her say. Shit?
“You…” I started but couldn’t finish.
“You…” she said roughly at the same time but did not continue.
Support Patricia dela Chica
