Chapter Sixteen Sins of the Fathers

Sins of the Fathers

Present Day

Demetrios punched the pillow that still lingered with the scent of Jesse, his bruised knuckles ricocheting with pain.

Again.

He’d lost Jesse again.

All because he wasn’t brave enough.

With the burdening of duty calling, he got himself sorted and left his room, checking the door across the hall. Jesse hadn’t emerged, still behind it, packing to leave. Demetrios felt sick. It didn’t get easier. It got worse. Much, much worse. Especially after last night and with what they’d shared that morning still branded on his skin.

Defeated, he ran down the stairs, out of the house, through the gangway to emerge onto the main strip. The taverna had already filled up with guests wanting their coffees and breakfasts, so he rushed into the dining area, to the window looking into the kitchen where Christos was preparing the bread, pastries, fruits and yoghurts. Demetrios pulled the plate of tickets to him, checking the orders.

“Your babá’s mad,” Christos said in Greek. “You must have got some good sex last night. You never lie in. Not even with the beautiful ones.” He handed over two bowls of yoghurt, fruit and honey. “Table five. Outside.”

Demetrios took the bowls and meandered outside to hand them to the couple waiting. He pasted on his professional smile, wishing them good morning, having a chat about where they were heading in their rental car today, offering suggestions of where to go, before heading back into the dining room. Yiannis emerged from the kitchen, fiercer than Demetrios had ever seen him before. Angrier than when having to bail him out of jail. Demetrios wasn’t up for another argument, though. Not then. Not when the small fragments left of his heart were tearing each other apart.

“Don’t start,” Demetrios said in Greek. “I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re not in the mood?” Yiannis shook his head. “Demetrios, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Me?” Demetrios lost his temper. More than he had when Yiannis had reprimanded him for being arrested. More than he had earlier when Yiannis had told him he was selfish. And more than when he’d had to slump home after Freya had announced the affair to them all and he’d not seen Jesse for the rest of the summer. “This is all you.” He pointed an angry finger at him. “You did this. You broke me. You broke Jesse. You and Freya. You both got to live your fairytale. We didn’t. Because of you, any chance I had with the man I’ve loved since I was eleven you destroyed!”

Yiannis deflated before him, having not known nor realised the extent or how deep Demetrios’ love for Jesse ran. They’d all thought they were friends. Close buds. They’d thought by marrying, his and Jesse’s bond would strengthen into brothers. Little had they known that Demetrios had already been in love with Jesse from the moment he’d laid eyes on him.

“Deme…”

“Don’t!” Demetrios’ clipped tone, sharp and cool startled Yiannis, and he wiped under his nose, preventing his tears when they were in full view of the customers taking up seats. “We’re both grieving, Babá. We’ve both lost the ones we love. At least you had yours for a while. I didn’t. Because I stayed with you!”

“Have we come at a bad time?”

Demetrios whipped around. Kelly and Izzy were stepping into the dining room.

“No, No!” Yiannis said in English, emerging with ease into the role he’d played for years. “Take a seat. Anywhere!” He gestured to the empty tables.

The girls nodded, then slapped flip-flops outside to the terrace and sat, Kelly watching him with concern. Demetrios wiped his eyes, sorted himself out, then grabbed a notepad and pencil from the ledge and made his way over.

“Hey,” he said, not near as cheery as he’d used to be, pencil poised at the paper. “What can I bring you?”

Kelly stroked his arm. “Are you okay, Deme?”

Wheels being dragged on concrete through an alley caught his attention and Jesse appeared, clutching his cabin case. He met Demetrios’ gaze, then focused on Kelly’s hand on his arm. Demetrios stepped away from her and he opened his mouth to say something, but the same as years before, no words came out. It didn’t matter, anyway. Jesse never believed him. He didn’t believe in love. His parents’ divorce had destroyed any faith he had, and that had happened because of Demetrios’ father.

No wonder Jesse couldn’t look at him.

Richard scrambled up from a table and marched straight over to him. Words were spoken, from Richard to Jesse, and whatever they were had Richard turning his back on the Kallis Taverna and storming off. Jesse waited a moment, gazing at Demetrios through broken glasses, and Demetrios staring back through a broken heart.

Jesse then, too, turned his back and Demetrios watched him walk away.

He’d lost count how many times that now made it.

“Deme?” Kelly’s voice brought him back from the brink.

Demetrios shook himself out. “Uh…yeah? What? Sorry.” He poised his pencil over the pad. “Chef’s salad?”

“It’s eight thirty,” Kelly said, peering up at him with wide blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

Demetrios glanced back along the strip, Jesse too far away to make out.

Then…

He was…

Gone.

Withdrawn from Demetrios’ life forever, there wasn’t anything tying him here anymore. Demetrios choked.

“Dem?” Kelly shot up, squeezing his arm.

Demetrios burst into tears. All the tears. Every tear he’d held back poured out of him in a deluge of uncontrollable sobs and he fell onto Kelly’s willing shoulder, letting her take all the burden he couldn’t hold.

Yiannis came rushing up, speaking in Greek so Kelly wouldn’t understand any of it. “Oh, my boy, my poor boy.” He rubbed his back. “Take a break. Go, go!” He pulled Demetrios from Kelly, wiping his tears with his hand. “Go. Calm down. Not in front of the customers, eh?”

Whilst it might have come across as Yiannis caring more about the Kallis Taverna’s reputation for fun and frolics with a sea view, he could see the distress in his Babá’s eyes. As if, after years and years, he’d realised what his actions had cost his son and was guilty about it.

Yiannis held Demetrios’ face in two hands. “We’ll talk. Go take a break.”

Demetrios handed his pencil and pad to Yiannis, then trudged out like Atlas himself with the world on his back. Kelly watched him go, hand clasped to her chest. Demetrios felt like a zombie walking from the terrace onto the sand. He wasn’t sure where he could even go. Where could he break down? He couldn’t go to his room. It still smelt of Jesse. So he staggered toward the sea. Maybe he should continue until he couldn’t walk anymore and he drowned like Aegeus.

He didn’t, though.

He wasn’t that dramatic.

Instead, he collapsed down on one of the sun loungers nearest the water, perching on the end. Within five minutes, Georgios came over, money belt strapped around his waist.

“I’m not staying,” Demetrios told him in Greek.

Georgios tutted and off he went to go charge someone else, leaving Demetrios to cover his face in his hands.

“Hey, Dem?” Kelly crouched beside his lounger, bag fallen from her shoulder. She was by herself. No friend in tow this time. “I was worried.” She put a hand on his knee.

Demetrios was too weak to do anything about it. As though watching Jesse remove himself from his life had killed his essence. There had always been hope before. A glimmer of a chance that Jesse would come back, would reunite, would shed himself of the hurt and allow himself to see the beauty of what they had again. He’d thought that had happened last night. But he’d gone, anyway.

Kelly perched on the edge of the lounger next to him, sitting in silent solidarity, shoulder to shoulder. She seemed like a nice girl. Caring. Empathetic. Any other time, Demetros might have leant into her and used all of that for his own gain. But too consumed with Jesse, he wasn’t sure he’d ever regain his reputation.

“When my Gran died,” Kelly said, gazing out to sea. “I was broken for a while, too. I know it’s not the same. But I used to go visit her every weekend in the nursing home and play chequers with her. Then when she died last year, I sort of lost a bit of myself. Like, what am I to do now? Who can I play chequers with? I had to find something else to fill the void. Pass the time.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, scents of sun cream flashing aching memories of Jesse. “It gets easier.”

All he could do was smile gratefully. She was trying. But she had no idea. Because it didn’t get easier. No matter what she, or Jesse, said. It broke him harder. Every day passing, every night fading, without Jesse, Demetrios’ world chipped away to nothing.

“And if she hadn’t died, my mum wouldn’t have inherited her house, selling it and giving me a chunk so I could come on this holiday.” She smiled. “And meet you.” She bumped his shoulder with her own, but had to slip her arm away when Demetrios didn’t respond.

A shadow encroached over them, shielding them from the blazing sun. “Ten euro.” Georgios returned for his cash.

“Gamóto, Georgio!” Demetrios spat. “Pénte gamiména leptá!”

Georgios muttered a bunch of expletives back at him in Greek so as not to offend his actual customer sitting beside him, then stamped through the sand to collapse into his deckchair in the shady part of the beach by the rocks. There, he folded his arms and glared at Demetrios through his shades.

Demetrios hung his head. “Sorry,” he said to Kelly.

“For what?”

“You might have wanted to hire this lounger.”

Kelly chuckled. “It’s okay. Last day today, we’re out of money for luxuries. We’ll towel it on the sand.” She drifted her hand up to his neck, tickling his short hairs. Then after another long moment of shared silence, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Izzy thinks your stepbrother’s cute, by the way.”

Demetrios exhaled a weary breath. Then snorted and nodded, wringing his hands in his lap. “Yeah,” he said, despondency in his chuckle. “He is.”

“Maybe we could all go out tonight? Our last night of freedom. Could take your mind off things?”

“Jesse left.”

“Oh.” Kelly lifted her head, searching his face. “Were you close? Is that why you’re upset?”

Demetrios couldn’t help the laugh. It was everything released in him all at once. As though the very thought of someone asking that question was ridiculous. How close could two people be? And upset? That was the understatement of the century. Destroyed was more like it, and his laughter merged into tears, falling of their own volition, and he buried his face in his hands.

“Deme?” Kelly rubbed circles over his back.

Demetrios scrubbed a hand down his face and just said it, “I’m in love with him.”

Kelly dragged her hand down his back, removing it to her lap. She bowed her head. “Oh.” Then, after contemplation, “In love, as in…?”

“In love. Infatuated. My heart belongs to him. Not like a brother. Like a lover.”

“Oh.” She nodded, continuously, as though out of things to say, then suddenly, for clarification, added, “You’re gay?”

“Bi.”

She bit her lip, glancing out to the sea. “Is he…?”

“Gay.”

“Right. And…does he feel the same?”

“Yes. I think so. But…it’s complicated. So fucking complicated. And a really long story.”

“I have a whole day of doing nothing.” Kelly smiled, shrugged. “Sometimes talking can help clear the complications away. Or at least compartmentalise them.”

Demetrios inhaled, preparing himself to share his life story. His love story. The only other person who knew the intricacies of what had happened between him and Jesse was Elias. And that had been months and months of him goading it out of him, demanding to know why Demetrios always had one foot out of their bed. But somehow, he needed to get it all out. And Kelly was there. Offering.

“I’ve been in love with him since I was eleven.” Demetrios waited for her surprise. But she widened her eyes a little, then she was there, ready to listen. No judgement. “He used to holiday here every year with his parents. They dined at the taverna most days. I used to watch him from afar. Hide behind the trees. Under the tables. Peeked out from the kitchen. He never noticed me. Always had his face buried in drawings.” Demetrios exhaled a fond chuckle. “One day, he was alone on the beach, under an umbrella as he was burnt. I tried everything to get his attention. Handstands. Backflips. Sang. But he wouldn’t look up from that damn drawing!”

Demetrios remembered how miserable Jesse had looked, and how after he had plucked up the courage to introduce himself, Jesse’s returning smile had lit up his entire world. He recounted everything to Kelly then. About their childhood getting to know each other. How they’d become thick as thieves from that first day and how each year Jesse visited, they grew closer.

“I missed the hell out of him every time he left. I’d count the days, waiting for him to return. I was nothing without him. I had friends at school, but they weren’t like Jesse. He made me feel…” he rubbed his aching chest, searching for the right English word to explain the euphoria he felt every time Jesse smiled at him. “Big, y’know? Like I could do anything. The rest of the year, I was just here. Just a Kallis. This was my life. Serving the tourists. Helping at the taverna and apartments that would eventually be mine. But with Jesse…I was me. I could take on the world.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it well.”

Kelly squeezed his knee. “You’re explaining it perfectly well. He sounds like an amazing person.”

“At seventeen, I plucked up the courage to kiss him. I hoped beyond hope he felt how I did. And, oh, God, Kelly, he did. It was magnificent.”

He smiled as the memories hit him again and again, as if they were Eros’ stray arrows striking his heart.

“Whenever he went home, I spent those months pining after him. Thinking about him. Calling him. Texting him. I didn’t leave him alone. I probably annoyed the fuck out of him. But I wanted him here. With me. Or for me to be there wherever he was. But I couldn’t. I had to be here.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, wishing he’d been braver, more forceful with his dad. He wished he could have told him he wanted his own life. Had his own dreams.

He bowed his head. “I lost my mum at nine. From that day, I knew I’d be tied here for whatever Babá needed from me. I’ve been loyal to him because I know how much losing her cost us. Then, when Jesse came back, and we were ready to take our relationship to the next level, we found out his mum had been having an affair with Yiannis.”

Kelly gasped, hands clasped over her mouth as if this were a soap opera. It wasn’t. It was his life.

“Any hope of anything between us was ruined after that. Jesse’s dad was a mess, so Jesse stopped visiting. This place killed him. And it hurt because I was so in love with him I couldn’t breathe most days.” He rubbed his tightening chest, trying to ease his suffocation. It didn’t work. “I tried to move on. To forget it all. To pretend it hadn’t happened. Got myself a reputation from bouncing from one person to the next. But it was because there was always hope Jesse would come back. He didn’t, though. His dad fell apart, and he was loyal to him. And I know what that’s like. To keep things going for your family when they’re falling apart.” Demetrios wiped away a stray tear. “Then his mum dies, and he came back… we made love, and it was everything, but it wasn’t enough for him. I wasn’t enough. I’m not brave enough, and neither is he. He’s gone. And there’s nothing tying him here anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Kelly said, the first thing she’d uttered in his whole monologue. “He has you here.”

Demetrios shook his head. “He doesn’t want me.”

“If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have found his way to your bed, right?” She bumped his shoulder. “And who wouldn’t want you? You’re gorgeous. And he’s not blind.” She winced. “Is he?”

Demetrios laughed. “No. He’s not blind. But he’s hurt. And thinks I’m not worth all the pain of our past. He has a life in London. And I’m here.”

Kelly drummed her fingers on her bare knees, tapping her flip-flops into the sand. She then leaned down to rummage in her beach bag, producing a tatty, well-read paperback. “If this was a romance novel that people like me devour on the beach,” she lifted it up to show him the title, “you’d be running to the airport right now, calling his name and telling him you love him.”

“Would I?”

“Yep.” She nodded in finality. “You’d realise that all those reasons why you shouldn’t be together don’t really count. You’d become brave enough. You’d sacrifice everything to be with him. And you’d find him, tell him the truth, kiss him with a minute to spare, and live your happy ever after.”

“This isn’t a fairytale.” Demetrios used the same words Jesse had said to him. His reasons for not trying.

“Why can’t it be?” Kelly dumped the book on her lap. “We need more fairytales in this world. Why do you think these books are so popular?”

Demetrios glanced at her, to her book, back to her.

Make a sacrifice.

Be brave.

Tell the truth.

He smiled, then kissed Kelly’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Go get your man.” She winked.

Demetrios shot up, then ran, albeit with difficulty, through the sand toward the strip. He passed Georgios, rummaged in his shorts and produced a crumpled five euro note. “Gia ta koritsia,” he said and handed over the money for Kelly and her friend to lounge in luxury on the last day of their holiday. He then bolted onto concrete, through the passageway, and leapt on his bike.

He didn’t bother with the helmet, and revved the engine to speed off, dust and grit tearing up in his haste. Jesse was catching the ferry to Athens, so Demetrios needed to get to the port in Chora quick. He could do that in fifteen minutes. If Jesse had been catching the bus to get there, it would take longer. He was in good time, surely?

He’d never driven the coastal route as fast.

Reaching the port, he skidded his bike up along the road, the picturesque beauty of Portara laid out in front of him. He got off the bike, ran as far as he could get without a ticket and was in time to watch the Blue Star Ferry honk, sailing out of the port and gliding through the Aegean Sea, starting its four-hour voyage to Athens, where Jesse would board a plane back to London.

He’d missed him.

Defeated, he trundled back to his bike and punched the seat, leather softening the blow on his knuckles, then bent over it, bashing his head on it instead.

Sacrifice. Bravery. Honesty.

That’s what love was.

He stood, fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a message.

Wanna dance with somebody?