Chapter 6
Left in an aura of mystery before the party crested, having learned the art of, ‘exiting at the right time’—Agathon commenting: ‘Surely somebody’s has to be waiting for you back at the Plutókratos . . . I know my old friend Ax!’
So, enjoying the night breeze and the uphill trek alongside the bay, I noticed that something was odd: my body was hot and tingling, like running on 1000 volts, and famished; and something felt alive, moving and burning in my gut; plus, I felt super-charged. Maybe axing acting had freed energy, spent hoping that one day I’d become a star. Not being a success—a hard pill to swallow. Wasn’t I was entitled to success? I’d been reared for it. No, reality sucks! Maybe that was why I’d chosen acting—little reality there. So why become an actor, being more interested in philosophy, science and psychology, in asking the big questions? A case of possession? Was something or somebody deciding for me, pulling the strings, while I sleep-walked through life in a fog, remote controlled by gods, planets, archetypes or fields? So much for free will, Dagmar being a case in point: not my type—still, we had sex (granted in drugged and drunk states). And why ‘the good’, ‘the generous son and friend’ you could always rely on?
I felt my old selves had died between the Airbus loo and the Filet de Boeuf grillé, sauce au poivre noir.
After half a mile walk a black jeep stopped, “Want a ride?” said an attractive reddish blonde young woman.
“Wouldn’t mind,” I said and jumped in.
“Scandinavian . . . ?” she said.
“Yep, Danish . . .”
“Heading where?”
“The Plutókratos . . .” I said.
“Wow, expensive!”
I didn’t care how expensive and that barely could afford it. “With that wow, you must be from New York?”
“Actually Thessaloníki, but my parents moved to the States when I was four,” she said.
“Hmm, Greek. Very sexy ladies, real women. Don’t dish out the crap like Northern European females. And American chicks only want rich men that drop dead a week after the wedding.”
“Don’t kid yourself. We’ve got our arch bitches too,” she said.
Fifteen minutes later, she drove up the quarter of a mile cypresses-lined drive to the Plutókratos.
“You can park outside my bungalow,” I said, “I’ll get us some champagne and we can take a little walk. There’s a cute little beach,” I said and touched her hand gently.
“It’s already two . . . I should be getting back. My hotel is in the opposite direction,” she said.
I moved my hand to her stomach, “You know you don’t want to go. Come,” I said and jumped out of the car. “Whew, it’s hot.” I took my shirt off. I was on fire.
She followed me into the kitchen, “Much nicer than my place,” she said. “One bare room in Mykonos Town next to Montparnasse. Music all night and so noisy I need four earplugs to stay asleep.”
“I was greeted by a pair of Swedish fighter jets nearly ripping off the roof when I arrived,” I said as I got the bottle of champagne out of the fridge.
She took a tour, “Cool, you even got your own pool,” she said from the bathroom.
“Nice isn’t it,” I yeIled from the living room preparing a pipe of hashish.
She sat down next to me on the couch.
“Want some?” I said and handed her the pipe.
“No thanks already had enough of everything,” she laughed, stood up and walked around. “This is fabulous.”
“Just met an old class mate of mine. Married of course. I think he was only my friend because of my two years older sister,” I said and took toke. “Too depressing being single around couples.”
“I know what you mean. But then you have your freedom. I was married and don’t think I’ll repeat that one again. Anyway, nobody wants to marry a woman with a 5-year old son. Wouldn’t mind a relationship though.”
“So where is your son?” I said.
“With my parents in Thesaloniki,” she said and walked out on the terrace, “Fabulous view and so peaceful.”
I followed, “I need a swim, I’m burning up,” I said and put an arm around her shoulder. “Come let’s go down to the marina there’s a nice little beachnearby.”
“But we can take a dip in your pool,” she said.
“It’s too hot. I need the sea.”
I threw the champagne bottle into the Aegean and returned to the redhead, sitting naked on the little beach near the marina. “I’m burning up,” I said, “do I feel hot?”
She touched my chest, “Yeah, very . . . Stayed in the sun too long?”
“No, arrived today,” I said feeling dizzy and fell down next to her, “I don’t feel so hot,” I laughed hysterically. “Need a dip before I go into spontaneous combustion.”
I ran into the sea, threatening to set it on fire, leering before diving, obsessed with finding the cuttlefish spitting sepia in my face earlier that evening.
Swimming towards Delos, once sanctuary of all light, rational Apollo, I felt whirled down to irrational Poseidon and then up to Mount Olympus wanting lessons in how to handle mortals—I was a god now and could swim forever, rule forever.
I jumped on top of her and rolled her around in the coarse sand with me, “Missed me?” I said,
She touched my chest, “Didn’t cool down much, even the water on you is hot.”
“And you don’t like that?” I said, and slapped her face. Had no idea why?
She struggled free from under me and ran towards the marina.
I outran her, “Was only trying to make you feel good.” Her crying incensed me. “Shut up this is going to feel real good,” I said and threw her to the ground, put my hands around her neck and squeezed. Her face turned blue. Mine felt increasingly hot. I let go of my grip and pressed her head into the sand while biting her neck—blood trickled and a mini black hole built in my gut.
Zipping my pants, I began wondering how I’d ended up on the beach and noticed a woman on the silvery moonlit sand. She didn’t move and her hair had a death-green tinge to it. I bent down over her and shook her, “Are you all right?” I said. “What happened to you?”
She got up on her elbows. I gave her a hand. She moved back, then, struggled to get up. “How do I get out of here?” she said.
The woman staggered behind me. She seemed afraid of me.
I was upset. How did I end up on the beach? And who was she?
At the pool terrace she sat down on one of the lounge chairs and sobbed.
“Maybe we should get you to a hospital?” I said and put an arm around her shoulder. She pushed it away, got up and ran up the path.