Chapter Fifteen The Same River

The Same River

May 2016

Hands clasped in front of him, suit uncomfortable in the midday heat, Jesse peeked over to the other side of the aisle. Demetrios smiled back at him. And that infectious, sweet smile had Jesse wanting to seep under the wooden bench and fall apart. Not returning the smile, he ripped his gaze away. Then bowed his head. Demetrios had been trying to catch him all day, and after his arrival to Naxos last night, but having opted to stay in a villa rather than the Kallis residence, he’d avoided him. And his mother. And this whole charade. Why he was even here, he’d never know.

Out of sight, out of mind, rung so very true.

Well, not really.

What was the other saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? It also makes it weak and lonely and crying out for someone, anyone, to help it heal.

Because all he’d done over the past couple of years since his mother had announced her affair and stayed in Greece, all Jesse had mourned was the loss of Demetrios. His friend. His almost-lover. The man he’d fallen in love with.

The man who was to become his brother.

That had created the barrier between them, not the miles of land and sea. Not his father’s subsequent breakdown and threats of harm. That and the knowledge that all Jesse might have been to Demetrios was another summer fling.

Klephtic style music, monophonic and rhythmic, tinkered out from the live band at the front of the church. The guests stood, and Yiannis, front centre at the plinth, turned to await his new bride. Jesse’s mother. Jesse swivelled around, too. The commotion through the open doors of the Orthodox church set up on the hill of Aegleia Beach removing his attention from Demetrios’ penetrating eyes. There she was, dressed in white, her sister, Diane, behind her, sorting out her veil. Despite this being both the bride and groom’s second weddings, they’d opted to go all in. Freya in an pure-white gown, Yiannis in a navy suit. Demetrios, as best man, was in the same setup as his father, a pink rose pinned to his lapel. Jesse, on the other side of the aisle, should have worn the same too. Freya had asked him to walk her down the aisle, but Jesse had refused on both counts. The fact he was here at all should be enough to appease his mother and curtail her insistent calls, texts, letters and postcards begging for him to visit, to write, to call, to come to this blasted wedding. His dad wouldn’t forgive him if he played an active role, considering the wedding had gone ahead before the ink had even dried on the divorce decree.

His dad didn’t want him here at all, of course.

When the invitation had first landed and Jesse had spoken to his mum over the phone, he’d said ‘no’. His dad hadn’t been handling the divorce well, despite it rushed through by both parties. His mum had forfeited any financial gain regarding the house, the holiday villa, Richard’s savings, his pension, as she had wanted a clean slate and, evidently, a quick and speedy separation. She’d got her wish. They hadn’t needed a custody battle for Jesse. At nineteen going on twenty, in his final year at university, he was too old to be part of all the ‘yours and mine’ rigmarole. He’d kept out of it by finishing his degree showcase, securing an agent, as well as basically caring for his dad who’d gone completely off the rails since that fateful day. The day Jesse nearly gave his virginity to a man he’d thought was saving his for him, yet turned out was all a lie.

The divorce, followed by his mum remarrying, and the constant reminders that Demetrios was going to be his stepbrother, had taken its toll emotionally. Jesse was drained, void of anything other than lethargy. He wanted it all over. Numb and broken, Jesse couldn’t muster it within himself to be happy for her.

Because today marked the day his family was over, and his mother was moving onto another one.

Things change.

In a heartbeat. A dreadful, painful heartbeat.

He glanced over to Demetrios, the heady weight of his eyes pulling him back.

Jesse turned away, peering up the aisle to await his mother’s procession down it.

She did, to the Greek wedding song played by the live band, the ceremony an amalgamation of both British and Greek Orthodox traditions. Jesse inhaled, the knot of his tie digging into the lump in his throat. Freya looked beautiful. Happy. Excited. An air of grace and blissful elegance as she stepped closer to the front of the church where Yiannis waited for her with a matching boastful grin.

Waves of tumultuous, conflicting emotions surged through Jesse as she neared his bench. She was more alive than Jesse had ever seen her. Being in love suited her, and she winked at him, mouthing, ‘I love you’. Jesse smiled through the pain. Then her attention was, once again, ripped away from him by Yiannis. He handed her a bouquet of pink roses and they both faced the priest, who started the proceedings in Greek.

Jesse glanced over to Demetrios, and he mouthed the translation, “We are gathered here today…”

Diane shuffled onto the bench next to him, creating a barrier between him and Demetrios. She nudged him and whispered in his ear, “She’s so pleased you’re here.”

Jesse’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he sneaked it out to check the display. His dad.

Has the bitch got married yet? Does she look awful? Hope she’s fallen on her face!

Jesse switched off the phone, and the congregation sat, and the ceremony took place that made Freya officially a Kallis and Demetrios officially his stepbrother.

Despite those two painful acknowledgements, it was beautiful. The elaborate Greek rituals of the bride and groom wearing crowns, having them intertwined and tied together with a ribbon to signify their union, was sweet. Not that Jesse had been to many other weddings, but he was pretty sure none of that had been done when Freya had married his dad. Perhaps that’s why it hadn’t lasted. They’d only been entwined by paper. Not silky ribbon.

At the end, Jesse kissed his mum’s cheek, and she hugged him tight, repeating over and over through happy tears, “Thank you, Jesse. Thank you. I’m so happy you’re here.”

He congratulated Yiannis with a handshake, which Yiannis forced into a hug and pat on the back. Then the newlyweds strolled outside where the guests waited for them to toss the rose petals and rice.

Jesse lingered behind. As did Demetrios.

“Hey.” Demetrios tugged on his jacket sleeve.

Jesse turned, adjusting his glasses. They were the last two in the church apart from the priest and Jesse peered over Demetrios’ shoulder, wondering what the man of God would think if he knew what the stepbrothers had used to get up to.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” Jesse frowned at the commotion outside, everyone cheering as Yiannis and Freya kissed beneath sprinkles of rice and flower petals. “Considering.”

“Can we talk?”

Jesse heaved a breath. He’d known this was coming, and it was the other reason he’d tried to say no to being here. Whilst he and Demetrios had made contact since the last disastrous holiday where they’d almost taken the next step in their relationship before all hell broke loose, it hadn’t been like it used to be. How could it be? Jesse’s mum was there with him. And he was at home in England trying to stop his dad from spiralling out of control. Their contact dwindled to Jesse’s one word replies to Demetrios’ lengthy messages, then him ignoring his calls completely.

He knew he wasn’t being fair, but couldn’t get his dad’s words out of his mind.

“The Kallis family, they’re the same! Steal your hearts, then dump them for the next one. It’s all about money, That Demetrios, he’s learning from his dad. I’ve seen him. Fucking his way through them all.”

And because he’d heard Demetrios had been with other people, Jesse had too. To disastrous consequences. Losing his virginity to someone he couldn’t remember the name of forever haunted him.

Freya clopped back into the church, her tight mermaid dress and stiletto heels making it hard to be discreet. She never was, though. She was a whirlwind. “Jesse!” She motioned with her hand. “I want you in these pics.”

Jesse turned behind him to Demetrios, rolled his eyes, then his mum dragged him away.

“I’m so glad you’re friends again,” Freya whispered in his ear. “He’s been a bit miserable to tell you the truth. But there’s someone here he’s been seeing. Won’t tell us who. But we think it’s Anastasia, which would be fabulous because they own the apartments by the taverna. Maybe you can find out for us? Be a fabulous family business to have those and the restaurant!” She then winked over her shoulder at Demetrios and tugged on Jesse’s arm. “Come on, Jellybean.”

Jesse’s stomach plummeted, falling out of him to spoil the pure white church floor. So it was true. Demetrios did mess around with everyone. What they’d had wasn’t special. Not to him.

To Demetrios, Jesse was just another day in paradise. Another notch on his bedpost before he waved him goodbye at the end of his holiday, never to be thought of again.

* * * *

Jesse posed for many photos, and he faked the smile in each one.

Especially when he stood in with Demetrios.

But when he wasn’t with him, he would seek him out among the guests, wondering if the person he was chatting to was her. Anastasia. One of many. The thoughts consumed him. Blistered him. Scratched and bristled his skin as if eaten alive from the inside out. That’s what people did, didn’t they? They cheated. Everyone did. Love wasn’t real. It didn’t last. Today was proof of that. His mum had once vowed to his dad, until death they do part, forsaking all others, then skipped across to someone else.

There was always someone else.

He needed to get away. He had to get away from this damn wedding.

So after the sit down meal at a hotel overlooking the stunning Aegean Sea, and after the speeches, and after he’d done as much of his son duties as he could stomach, he ditched his aunt and made his way outside to the grounds. He bent double, hands on his knees, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth to mitigate his looming panic attack. Laughter and chatting from guests making their way back into the hotel made Jesse scurry out of view. The last thing he needed was to be found falling apart and losing bits of himself to bury in Grecian land and become myth.

He left the white fencing, took a left and found himself at the beach, where the curved strip stretched all the way to the Kallis Taverna.

He stepped off the ledge into soft, golden sand, then collapsed to sit on the concrete step. His phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, rubbed his forehead, and thought about not answering it. But he’d done that before and his dad had ended up in hospital having his stomach pumped.

“Dad,” he answered, phone to ear.

“She hitched yet?”

“She is now married to Yiannis, yes. She’s a Kallis.”

Jesse heard the pop of a cork, the glug of wine being poured into a glass. “He’s using her.”

“He looks happy. So does she. Might be time to let this go.”

Richard barked a laugh. “It’ll come crashing down. That lot just wants our money.”

“Mum didn’t get any money in the divorce.”

“Too right. I stopped that bastard getting hold of it.”

“And he still married her.” Jesse waited for the words to sink in. They hadn’t yet, but maybe this might help him turn a corner. Realise that it hadn’t been a con. That Yiannis wasn’t romancing a tourist for monetary gain. Freya had fallen out of love with him and in love with someone else. It hurt. It hurt beyond belief. But sometimes, things happened and no amount of getting angry and throwing the blame elsewhere would change it.

Love hurts.

Maybe it was better never to fall in love.

“It’ll come crashing down in the end!” Richard slurred. He wasn’t on his first bottle. Nor would it be his last. “You mark my words. They’re rats. Both of them!”

“Both?”

“He and that son of his…Demetrios.” He spat the name.

“What’s Demetrios got to do with it?” Jesse’s heart banged so hard, he feared it might break his ribs.

“He’s learned from his father. Bed the guests. That’s all he does.”

Jesse’s heart cracked. Leaked. Drained away to join the sea.

“When I was selling the villa, I saw him.” Richard glugged more wine into a glass. “Flirts with everyone. Fucks anything. Saw him at the apartments. In and out with—.”

Jesse clicked off the call. He couldn’t listen to anymore. He’d have no more heart left. Not that he needed it. For functional use only, his heart was just an organ. Nothing more. No more. Jesse Hough wouldn’t feel this pain again.

“Jess?”

Jesse peered over his shoulder. Demetrios stood over him, hands in his trouser pockets. Jesse turned away, lifted his glasses to wipe his eyes, then stood, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “How’s Anastasia?”

“Who?”

“The girl you’re fucking for an apartment.”

“Jesse—”

“I can’t do this, Dem.”

“Do what?”

“This!” He flapped a hand at the two of them. “You. I don’t know who you are. What you are. Or what I even am to you.”

“If you’d let me, I’d show you.” Demetrios stepped forward, reaching for Jesse’s hand, but Jesse dipped away, out of reach. “You stopped talking to me. You didn’t even want to be friends!” His voice was so weak at the word, ‘friends’ as if it was a last resort.

“How can we be friends, Dem?”

“Why can’t we be friends?”

“Because we’re brothers. And you’re here. And I can’t be here. And you…you…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. The pain was too much. “Why am I even here?” He asked himself instead, then stormed off. He had to get away. Needed to leave. Mostly because of how good Demetrios looked. How intoxicating he smelled. How genuine he came across.

And how easy it would be to be lured back into the fairytale.

“Jesse!”

Jesse marched along the seafront, dress shoes clomping on concrete and filling up with sand particles to irritate his feet. It was better to focus on that than the emotional pain. It hurt less. He dodged the bars, those strolling along with ice creams, and found himself outside the Kallis Taverna, the sign outside stating it was closed for a wedding.

Jesse needed to cry. But he couldn’t do it out in the open among the excited holiday makers. So he ducked into the passage separating the taverna from the apartments and, midway, fell against the wall as dusk hit, providing him with shade from the sun and a shadow from his life. From himself. From everything that caused him to break.

“Jesse?” Of course Demetrios would find him.

Jesse took his glasses off, cleaning them on his shirt and sniffed. Demetrios stood in front of him, that sweetened scent driving into Jesse’s consciousness and leaving an imprint on his broken heart. He put his glasses back on, lifted his head and met his gaze.

No words exchanged. Just soft breath meshing with soft breath as they inhaled each other and exhaled their defeat. Jesse didn’t move away. He stood there, grounded against the concrete wall, blocked away from the rest of Aegleia.

Demetrios slipped a hand around Jesse’s neck, stepped closer, and kissed him.

It had been two years.

Two and a half years.

Nearly three years since he’d had Demetrios’ lips on his own. Since he’d had a kiss that sparked frustratingly inside him. Since he’d allowed himself to feel what it was Demetrios gave him that no one else could. He couldn’t fight the instinct, the innate need to feel the touch of him on his skin, to know how it felt to have him, body and soul. Like this. He kissed him back, tongues reuniting as Demetrios crushed his body against his, giving his all to him and this moment.

As the sun filtered down, bringing night to day, Demetrios kissed and kissed and fell into Jesse. Not quite suppressed, but not quite free, Jesse hung there like a slave for him. It was easier to let it all happen. To throw himself back into the fire. The initial burn might sting, but it was the scar tissue after that would forever blister.

Demetrios ripped his mouth away and, in velvety smooth tones that had Jesse caving, he rumbled a desperate and imploring, “Jesse.” Then he dipped his forehead to his and exhaled at the hardness locked within Jesse’s trousers.

Jesse knew he’d let him do it before Demetrios might have even had the thought, and he bashed the back of his head against the wall as Demetrios fiddled with his belt, unfastened his button and lowered his zip. He then kissed him as he delved his hand inside Jesse’s underwear and wrapped desperate, firm fingers around his needy, throbbing cock.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Demetrios growled. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

Jesse didn’t tell him any such thing.

So Demetrios buried his head into the crook of Jesse’s neck, kissing and licking as he slid his hand up and down his shaft, slow and steady, then gradually speeding up. He nipped Jesse’s neck, his collarbone, grinding his hips to rub his own hardness against Jesse’s leg. Jesse had been ready to explode as soon as Demetrios had laid his hand on him, but now the sensations were too much to take out in the open. Especially with how Demetrios grunted, panted and rubbed his concealed girth on him. Jesse’s legs trembled, shoes scraping on grit as his newly legal stepbrother tossed him off in public.

He gripped Demetrios’ neck, digging fingers in to bruise his skin like Demetrios had his heart. “Dem…”

“Fuck, Jesse,” Demetrios panted. “Den boró na stamatíso na se skéftome.”

Jesse groaned, screwing his eyes shut, not having a clue what Demetrios was saying to him in Greek, only that he was desperate and imploring. Jesse hadn’t ever needed his translations. He could sense what Demetrios wanted. And right then, he wanted Jesse. So he let him, adrenalin rushing through him, stealing the pleasure Demetrios offered, thrusting up into his tunnelled fist.

“Eisai ómorfos…” Demetrios caught his eye, this time offering the translation. “You’re beautiful.”

And those soft, endearing words swam through his body to his pulsating dick and he exploded into Demetrios’ hand, clutching his neck, riding the waves of a blissful release. Demetrios kissed his throat, over his jaw, up to his mouth and kissed him as if he couldn’t get enough, rubbing his confined cock against him and he grunted, trembled, coming himself without Jesse having touched him.

He rested his forehead on Jesse’s, fishing out a napkin from his pocket, and wiped his hand on Jesse’s shirt where he’d spilled himself.

“Is that a wedding napkin?” Jesse asked, chest rising with his elevated breaths.

Demetrios flicked open his trousers, cleaning himself up inside his underwear, then pocketed it. “Yes,” he said, doing his zip back up.

Jesse didn’t acknowledge the irony of that. Instead, he bit his lip as Demetrios met his gaze. Silence. Only the sounds of deep breaths and the sea lapping onto the shore in the distance masked the fierce thuds of Jesse’s heart. After a few tense moments, where Jesse’s rational brain hadn’t been able to talk him down, he stepped forward and flung an arm around Demetrios’ neck. He pulled him closer, and Demetrios trembled beneath his touch, closing his eyes and hugging him back.

Then Jesse’s phone rang.

He should ignore it.

He should absolutely ignore it.

“Fuck.” He fell away from Demetrios, fishing out his phone and checking the display. He closed his eyes. “Hi, Carol.” Richard’s next-door neighbour from Tunbridge Wells had taken his number when the commotions with his dad had started.

“I’m so sorry to call you, Jesse.”

“It’s okay.” He bit his thumbnail. “What’s up? Dad not trim the tree and the leaves are now in your garden?” He chuckled nervously, knowing that wasn’t the likely outcome.

“He’s…Oh, Jesse, I’ve had to call the police.”

Jesse sank.

“He’s trashing the house and gardens. We’ve tried talking to him but he threw a bin at David. He’s at AE while I wait for the police. Your dad’s very drunk, Jesse. We can’t have this in our neighbourhood. You know we live in a peaceful street.”

“I know, Carol.” Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Expect he’ll be at the station when you arrive from London.”

“I’m in Greece, Carol. Mum’s wedding.”

“Oh.” Carol paused for a moment. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah. I’ll be there when I can.” Jesse cut off the call.

In a split second, everything had changed. Just like two years ago, when his mum had ruined their moment, it had happened again with a wedding and an arrest. Jesse stood there, staring at Demetrios, knowing he’d never get over him but knowing he couldn’t have him either.

Life sucked.

Lovesucked.

And Jesse felt the need to hit it all home to Demetrios. “My dad’s a mess.”

Demetrios nodded, although there was no understanding. Nor agreement.

“He’s lost his job. Almost his life. He’s an alcoholic and has just assaulted his neighbour and trashed the house. And my mum’s in a white dress, sipping Champagne, loving life in fucking Greece.” Jesse did up his trousers, secured his belt. “And we’re fucking stepbrothers.”

“That means nothing. Changes nothing. Not for me.”

“No? Because I’m just a holiday thing, right?”

“You know you’re not.” Demetrios gripped Jesse’s arm. “Jesse, God, Jesse.” Desperate fingers indented his skin as Demetrios searched for words. “íme erotevménos mazí su!”

“What does that even mean?”

Demetrios’ translation stuck in his throat.

So Jesse continued, “How do you think they’ll all take it?” He widened his eyes in question. “Your dad? My dad? My mum?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Demetrios didn’t sound so sure. “It’s up to us.”

“Is it really up to us?” Jesse challenged him with a narrow stare. “I can’t walk away from my dad. He needs me. None of this is his fault.”

Demetrios swallowed. Blinked. Inhaled. “But you can walk away from me? Us?”

“Can you walk away from your dad? From all this?” Jesse gestured the idyllic surroundings of the taverna, its beautiful beachside location.

Demetrios shifted, opening and closing his mouth, but no words formed. Greek or English.

Then, as if to test whatever Demetrios might have said, Yiannis trotted closer toward them, suit ruffled, calling, “Deme! Deme!”

Demetrios held Jesse’s gaze for a moment, but as suspected, he turned toward his father. “Babá?”

“It is the first dance!” Yiannis tapped Demetrios’ chest, his grin wide. “Jesse is to dance with his mother. Come, Jesse!” He gestured to him, but Jesse didn’t move, dress shoes grounded into stone. “And you, my boy.” Yiannis slipped an arm around Demetrios’ shoulders, steering him back toward the hotel. “You are to dance with Anastasia.” He leaned closer to Demetrios’ ear, but Jesse could hear every wretched word. “Her father is selling the apartments. Very lucrative for us. Your mother always wanted to branch out to offering our guests a place to stay!”

Jesse’s tears fell freely then, trickling from beneath his glasses to seep treacherously into his mouth, muddying the taste of Demetrios’s kiss. Was he supposed to go back to the wedding and watch his mum dance with someone who wasn’t his dad, and watch Demetrios kiss someone who wasn’t him?

He couldn’t.

So whether Demetrios turned back, Jesse wasn’t sure because, dazed, confused, head filled with mush and overflowing with regret, remorse and rage, he left. Maybe he’d had too much of the free wine at dinner. Drank too much of the ouzo handed around the reception. Maybe he was reeling from his father’s fumes. Whatever it was, it made him go back to his hotel, pack, and leave on the first boat out.

Never to return to Naxos again.