THE ISLAND OF CHARON
a novel in the series
"PLAYING ANOTHER REALITY"
CHAPTER 8. FRIDAY, the 13th
8.1. ANTICIPATION OF THE FULL MOON
“Good morning, Friday the 13th!”
I posted on my Internet page a view from my balcony immediately after breakfast and skipped to the beach, located in a tiny bay right under the rock, where I lived in the house of Panagiotis the beekeeper.
The beauty of my bay, unlike the luxurious Alikes, was evident for me. First, it looked at the Holy Mountain, and second, it was absolutely wild, except some locals, although most of them preferred swimming exclusively on weekends and on uninhabited isles nearby, which they could reach by boats or yachts, so usually I swam completely alone.
By lunchtime, I used to return home and fall asleep, like true Hellenes, including Sofia. She always slept, at least one hour, during the Greek “siesta”, and she took over her post in the souvenir shop only at 6:30 p.m.
The weather worsened instantly. It became excessively hot and stuffy, the Wind suddenly disappeared again, leaving behind a surreal picture of a stopped space lacking something vital.
Having woken up around 5:00 p.m., I arranged a little snack on the balcony, cheese with grapes. Actually, I didn’t eat anything when it was hot and/or I got nervous. That day, both conditions of the fasting harmoniously complemented each other, and as soon as I finished my monk’s meal and returned to the room, I received a message.
“Weren’t you the one on the balcony a minute ago?!”
I jumped on the bed, unable to believe my tiny happiness!
“Are we really to meet, Mark?”
Just think about it! We had been known each other for so many years, constantly colliding on Ammouliani, but to start communicating we had to meet on an international dating site, being already in third countries and in terms of the pandemic self-isolation!
Yes, we began to correspond at the beginning of the Covid-19, but I would say “two-syllables” and sporadic. Being introverts, and maybe because we both, for various reasons, didn’t really believe in a joint Future, we were ly so afraid of losing each other even before meeting in a new quality, that we put off all conversations for later, for the long-awaited tet-a-tet, which we had literally to live up to… Thus, almost every of our dialogues ended with Mark’s favorite refrain, “As God wills.”
In the second year of the pandemic, Greece was opened for tourists, and we agreed to meet on Ammouliani in August. Mark got in touch with me every two or three weeks. At first, he asked how things were going on, whether I hadn’t changed my mind about coming. Then, whether everything was in order with the flight rebooking, because I had bought tickets a year before for a cancelled flight. And already before my departure he asked me about testing for the virus.
However, when I finally got to Ammouliani, exactly on the 1st of August, and was doing a welcome evening promenade, some locals, as if conspiring to poison my vacation from the very beginning, reported me that since the 1st of August several countries (including Mark’s residence) suddenly banned visits to Greece by imposing a mandatory fortnight quarantine upon return!
I refused to believe such a turn of events, but I was afraid to clarify that information with Mark, because his boss let him go in vacation only for a weekend. One couldn’t even stutter about vacation in high season, not to lose job in the field where Mark had just started, especially taking into consideration his “bird rights” in Britain. The fortnight quarantine was equal to a death sentence for our meeting!
“Miracles do happen! Thank God! Mark is here and so close, on the same rock, just a house from me!”
After exchanging joyful greetings, we agreed that Mark would come for me around midnight, when the island used to fall asleep. On the one hand, I categorically wanted no one to know about our date. On the other hand, Mark had as many friends on Ammouliani as I did, and his appearance on the island no longer went unnoticed. Any extra questions and guesses from the locals — why I hadn’t made my evening round of the village, and Mark had ignored his friends — seemed highly undesirable to me.
At 7:00 p.m. I put on a thin silk dress, which I had bought during our joint trip with Sofia to a luxury “Made in Greece” store. Thank God, she didn’t know who it was meant to meet! — Sofia couldn’t stand Mark, however, it was mutually, the usual abyss between the working class and the intellectuals. So, I headed for my evening promenade to the pier.
Probably, all the villagers with whom I greeted that evening remarked on my increased luminosity.
“May-ya!” Sofia greeted me in Greek. “When you buy something new or put it on, in Greece we say to you, ‘may-ya!’ Remember? Repeat it!”
“May-ya!” I obediently repeated and laughed.
“You must learn Greek by next summer!”
“Find me a groom, and I promise I will!”
“No, first learn Greek, and then comes the groom! You are so joyful today! And beautiful! This dress suits you! The perfect match for your hair color! By the way, do you want me to sign you up with my hairdresser? She is a professional! How much do you pay in your city for…?”
I was returning home after 10:00 p.m., involuntarily smiling in anticipation of the long-awaited meeting with Mark. Having reached the St. George Chapel, I decided to get inside to light a candle for us. However, upon entering, I realized that there was someone else.
I raised my head and…
…I saw HIM starring straight at me!!!
The BEEKEEPER!!!
I screamed and dashed back at lightning speed, running to the pier, and I burst into Sofia’s shop.
“What happened?!” she asked me in horror.
I tried to catch my breath and explain something.
“The Beekeeper!!! In the Chapel!!!”
“Alice, HE IS DEAD!”
“Perhaps… dead! But he’s alive, too! And he is in the chapel of St. George! I swear, he is haunting me! I’m scared! Please, believe me! And walk me home tonight!!!”
Sofia, though she didn’t believe in ghosts, looked really frightened by my words.
“Well, of course, I will… Or rather, I’ll call Panagiotis right now. He will come on his motorcycle and pick you up. But… let’s think logically!”
Sofia seated me on a bench near the entrance of her shop, brought some water and sat down next to me.
“Yes, Alice, the situation is strange, I agree with you. First, someone on behalf of the late Beekeeper, whose funeral we attended the whole family three years ago, writes you all sorts of obscenities via social network and inclines you to his perverted sexual fantasies, sending in addition a song about the ferryman Charon and death… However, the only person on the island who could really do something like that, the Confectioner, is under arrest in Thessaloniki. By the way, you haven’t received a word from the Beekeeper since his arrest, have you?”
“Right,” I nodded and sighed. “But it’s not the first time I’ve seen the Beekeeper! It’s like he’s watching me! He wants something! What if a real maniac-murderer is hiding behind the Beekeeper’s mask?! You do know, how many murders have already been announced in the TV news!”
“Alice, my dear… Taking into consideration the unhealthy atmosphere in Chalkidiki, it’s quite possible, that your story is not at all as simple as it seems! But what do you think? Is your Beekeeper a ghost or a real person?”
“I don’t know, Sofia, I don’t know!” I exclaimed in frustration. “As a child, I saw ghosts. It was such a gift from my grandmother the witch! Perhaps he’s even a ghost!”
“Look, if he’s a ghost, you don’t have to be afraid of him!” Sofia tried to calm me. “Our beekeeper has been the kindest creature all his life! I knew him very, very well! And his family — we are friends! — they are wonderful people! They believed in God not for show-off, but for real! The beekeeper wouldn’t hurt a fly, believe me! Do you really think that good people become evil demons after death?”
“I have no idea, but…”
“Fear the living, Alice! And don’t believe the zombie stories! I don’t want to scare you, however, there’s another murder in the news. Thank God, not on our island. A Georgian husband stabbed his Greek wife in Thessaloniki. They say he was drunk as hell. I don’t know what’s really going on, but if I believed in curses…”
Sofia picked up the phone, called Panagiotis and asked him to come for me.
“Besides, today is Friday the 13th,” she said grimly. “Don’t go out of the house, Alice! Promise me! Don’t go to the supermarket, don’t even go out to the balcony, okay? And tomorrow I’ll talk to my friend from the police station. He’s my classmate, so we’ll keep it between us. Yes?”
“Okay,” I promised, already knowing for sure… it would be impossible for me to stay closed that night under any reason!
“What a blessing Mark is here tonight after all! Thank God!”
I thought that and heard the sound of a motorbike approaching.
Sofia said something to Panagiotis in Greek, handed me over, and we rushed home.
At the entrance to the house Panagiotis smiled.
“Don’t you want to taste my honey?” he asked me. “A small jar of my honey with your night tea, and no ghosts at all!”
“No, no, thank you!” I answered and ran up on the third and final floor to my room.