Saturday, 4th June 1988
I have already seen dozens of publishers all over Athens, and most of the times the results were rather disappointing: The majority of them didn't even deign to have a look at my book, some others thought it were too big (155 pages), someone found it “nice, publishable, not a masterpiece, but there is nothing to do now because our schedule is full till the end of next year”.
This morning I went to Danae Publishing, which is one of the most famous houses in the country. The editor returned the book to me, after having kept it for a month, together with a written review: “Interesting style of writing. Your novel has many influences but it is quite original”. She spoke to me in a friendly manner, she called me by my name, but she suggested I should go to other publishers, since they can't publish it because their schedule is full till the end of next year (the usual story). “Don't you have any acquaintances in the publishing industry?” she concluded with a meaningful smile.
Mr Kosmides, another famous publisher, didn't wish to see my novel, yet he was very sincere to me: There is no way to have it published without paying, science fiction and fantasy are not in vogue any more, only renowned authors survive even if they write nonsense. He also told me that Varnalis is unapproachable, since he is the closest to the prime minister. I guess Mrs Bonanos had been stringing me along for one whole year...
I have been given some hope by the publishing house “Faesilie”: The friendly, bearded publisher has already read and approved of my novel, yet he has been postponing the signing of the contract month after month. His chief editor has talked to me on the phone, he said he found my novel very interesting, he made some correct remarks and he also stated that “The Conspiracy of Shadows” belongs to the genre of fantasy, it is not science fiction.
Yet, the most hopeful case is another publisher named Halaris, who has also approved of my book and told me we shall sign a contract by the end of next year. For the time being all I have is promises, but I am waiting patiently, full of optimism...
Sunday, 5th June 1988
This afternoon I paid a visit to cousin Chryssa and we talked about that cipher of Kotsonis. Then two of her friends arrived and we all went to a cafeteria in the Areos Park. I think I'll get along well with these people.
We were chatting cheerily, when all at once Chryssa asked me about my book. I informed her that I have been to many publishers, that two of them are interested in publishing my novel till the end of next year, and that I will prefer the one who will sign the contract first. Everybody seemed to be impressed.
“Shall we see you again?” they asked me later, while I was leaving.
“Of course!” I replied smiling.
On the way home, a nice young man came and sat next to me in the bus. Before long he started talking to me and I was surprised at his interest in me. His name is Michael, he is 24 years old and he is a publisher! He is rather plump, with big buttocks, not quite my type, but he has a beautiful face. He said that his company is quite successful, with a staff of 50 employees, and that he was going to the Book Fair at Syntagma Square in order to find new collaborators.
Finally, we went to the fair together. I bought a book of fantasy stories, while he was talking to a group of managers. “This is how you earn 4000 drachmas a day,” he bragged a little later. I suspect he is just a peddler who tries to hit on chicks by acting the rich publisher.
When we arrived at the bus terminus at Zappeion, he isolated me at a bench and kissed me. I think he is very hasty and he says big words like “You kiss nicely, Yvonne”. Is this just hot air, or what?
Tuesday, 7th June 1988
This morning my mother and I went to the Lyceum of St Tryfon, so as to make some original copies of my graduation certificate. Probably I will need them while searching for a better job. However, due to a mistake of mine, the master in charge couldn't validate the photocopies, so our going there was a waste of effort.
My mother took the occasion to express all her disappointment in me: “We are always complaining about our bad luck, but we say nothing about our stupidity!”. Next moment she touched the left side of my back, which protrudes slightly because of my scoliosis, and said bitterly: “Your back is wry, you need exercise!”. Then, she touched my right shoulder, which is a little lower than the left one. “Lift your shoulder, don't let it droop!” she went on grimly. At that moment I realized that my mother wishes she had another daughter, someone beautiful and popular; not me...
In the afternoon I set out for the gym, although I was feeling very gloomy. As soon as they saw me walking down the road, the familiar bums of Tempi street started making fun of me: “Hey, you! Giraffe! You, camel!”. They wouldn't stop deriding me, so I turned my head back and shouted at them: “You are sissies, all of you!” Paradoxically, they all shut up at once.
Sunday, 19th June 1988
It's two weeks now since I met him, and Michael hasn't communicated with me yet. So, I decided to make the big step and call him first. We arranged an appointment for this afternoon and we went on a walk in the National Gardens. He kissed me three times with his fleshy lips and it felt nice; yet, he made me wonder because every now and then he dropped certain hints: “Here are your relatives!” (outside the cage of the goats), or “Here are your cousins!” (near the enclosure of the donkeys). In the beginning I took it as a joke, but when I told him something similar outside the cage of the monkeys, he didn't like it at all.
A little later I asked him to give me the telephone number of his workplace but he refused:
“I've already given it to you and told you not to call me there!” he said.
“Really? You've told me all this and I don't remember?” I replied ironically.
Finally, we sat at a table in the outdoor cafeteria inside the National Gardens, where we chatted for about an hour. I wouldn't mind another date with him but as we were getting ready to leave, Michael told me cunningly:
“I'm afraid I haven't taken enough money with me and I need a taxi urgently; could you lend me a thousand drachmas?”
“I don't have so much money with me,” I answered calmly.
“Four hundred drachmas?”
“No, I'm sorry...”
It was crystal clear to me that the bloke wanted me to pay for his coffee too, but I didn't do him the favour.
No sooner had that torrid love affair ended, than another began: As soon as I arrived at Zappeion Park, I happened to cross another bloke: It was a tall, thin man with brown hair and short quiffs on his forehead. He stopped me and asked me to go for a coffee with him right away. I accepted immediately, because he was not ugly and he looked like a gentleman; besides, I wanted to be sociable and willing for new experiences.
We entered a nearby cafeteria at once and the first introductions were made. His his name is Constantine and he works as a teacher. We chatted pleasantly for an hour or so, he seemed to be more refined, polite and educated than Michael, he even showed interest and understanding about the difficulties of my job: “Don't worry about work; work is never over, Yvonne,” he advised me calmly.
Sunday, 26th June 1988
This afternoon I met Constantine again. This time we went to the outdoor cafeteria in Zappeion Park. At first, everything was fine. He seemed decent and “harmless”, and all we did was talk about various subjects of common interest. However, after half an hour he told me smiling: “We must come closer to each other! If we go on like this, the other people here will think we have quarrelled!” So, we came closer and held hands, arm-in-arm. A few minutes later he suggested we go for a walk together -in fact he insisted a lot on that. I agreed because I wanted to show good will and adaptability. How could I imagine what awaited me?
During our walk along Amalias Avenue, the bloke didn't take his hands off me -not even for one moment! He kept me captive right in front of him, in a most unnatural way, so that his body was stuck to mine while we were walking. In fact, I could hardly walk, while everybody was staring at us. I didn't dare say anything because noth
ing like that had ever happened to me before and I didn't know how to react. Besides, I didn't want him to put me down as an iceberg -even if every moment was torture to me.
Only when we arrived at the bus terminus at Zappeion, did I ask him to behave himself. He partly conformed to my wish but he kept on holding my hand, making sure that it touched his penis! I didn't protest any more; I just had patience until we reached the bus.
Needless to say, I don't intend to meet this pervert ever again. I only wonder: Is this what happens any time a girl goes out with a guy? “This is what all men do, and most women like it!” confirms my sexually expert sister. But how can women tolerate being treated like this? I just can't understand...
Saturday, 2nd July 1988
This is the fourth weekend in a row that I have phoned my cousin Chryssa and asked her we meet on one of the two days; yet, she has been frigid towards me and avoided seeing me, with various excuses. I feel depressed because I know we shall never go out together again and I can't figure out why. Just when I thought I had found a normal, enjoyable party of friends... Why isn't Chryssa interested in me any more?
In the afternoon aunt Penelope paid us a visit. At a moment I said something she didn't approve of; she pointed at the coffee I was drinking and burst out at me: “That's why you will go mad in the end, and you won't be able to tolerate the slightest noise! Even a fly will get on your nerves!”
At first I was taken aback at what aunt had just said, but then I laughed and told her that I don't have a problem with noise. She didn't answer, but she glanced at me again with her enigmatic, piercing eyes, as if she were saying: “Yeah, sure, just wait and see...”
Saturday, 16th June 1988
Due to lack of company (as usual), this morning I decided to go alone to the beach of Voula. I was swimming in the shallows when a dark-skinned guy approached me and started courting me. I didn't like him so much, he looked like an Arab, he swam like a frog, and he was always in my way. However, I pressed myself to be friendly and receptive; years go by fast, I am not twenty years old and I can't be choosy any more. With his broken Greek, he told me that his name is Omar, he comes from Egypt and he works in the embassy. I considered it wise not to reveal my true identity: I told him that my name is Mary and that I live in Kallithea. His face lit up because he lives in Kallithea too, as he told me.
While we were getting out of the water, the bloke wanted to hold hands with me, as if we were lovebirds. “You are in my heart from the first moment I saw you, Mary!” he announced histrionically. He treated me to a glass of iced coffee, we talked quietly for a while and we finally arranged to meet at a cafeteria in Kallithea three days later. As I was leaving the beach, Omar said to me: “No lies, Mary, alright? No lies!”
Tuesday, 19th July 1988
Although I wasn't really in the mood for it, I did my best to go to the appointment on time, although it was exhausting for me: Like every weekday, I had to work for eight hours at the office, which is in New Smyrna. When I returned home, I hardly had any time to take lunch and rest for half an hour; then I had to take two buses, so as to meet Omar in Kallithea at 7:30, as agreed. However, I waited there for forty-five minutes but the would-be groom didn't show up. Strangely enough, I didn't feel bad about it; in fact, I was relieved...
Saturday, 23rd July 1988
I was naive enough to go to the same beach which is, by the way, quite big and crowded. Omar popped up in front of me again and asked me the reason why I stood him up on Tuesday. I pretended I didn't know him and told him he was making a mistake, while I was trying to get out of the water. Once again he was in my way and didn't let me swim out. I started to get annoyed and he started losing his temper. “Don't be nervy, Mary” he exclaimed at a moment.
Finally, I managed to get out of the sea and lay down on the sand in order to sunbathe. A few seconds later he passed by me, he called me “nitwit”, I called him “stupid”, and that was the end of another love story. I don't intend to go to that beach alone again...
Tuesday, 16th August 1988
Just as I was wondering why relatives and friends never propose a match to me, uncle Alex dropped by this afternoon and announced that he had just met a guy who's Mr Right for me: He has seen him at the seaside three times, he is a dark-skinned Muslim Arab, and he is desperately looking for a bride! Uncle Alex told him about me and the Arab said that if I wanted him to marry me, I should leave everything behind, go to Saudi Arabia with him and become a Muslim! “He must be rich, though!” wound up uncle Alex.
My mother was very enthusiastic about this, she urged me to meet the bloke as soon as possible but I refused flatly. I am not at all in the mood of getting involved with a Muslim and buried in a harem...
Wednesday, 17th August 1988
It was late in the afternoon when my mother and I decided to go for a walk together. Who did we meet twenty minutes later, as soon as we turned into Pellis st.? Uncle Alex! Right at that time he was driving up the road, having just returned from the beach! Is this diabolic coincidence or what? I wondered. Uncle Alex claimed that our meeting was fateful and that I was meant to meet the groom from Arabia right away! “Every day at this hour he is sunbathing at Diamond Beach! Especially this evening, he will be waiting for us!” he concluded, full of excitement.
My mother, jumping for joy, agreed immediately that fate was leading me to... Saudi Arabia. I tried to protest but nobody was listening to me. So, we got into uncle's car, he reversed direction and we headed for the seaside.
However, when we finally reached Diamond Beach, the groom was nowhere to see! Phew! That was close! Yet, uncle Alex and mum wouldn't get daunted so easily. They insisted on our waiting there for a while, in case Prince Charming showed up. We stayed there for half an hour but nothing like that happened. We got on the car and returned home, while my mother could hardly hold back her tears.
Thursday, 13th October 1988
As I was returning from work by bus, I happened to meet Kate, an old schoolmate of mine, with whom I used to keep company (as boring as can be) while we were in lyceum. I was astounded to hear that she has been married to a famous footballer for five years now! She has two children and she works in the Tax Office, where she was hired as soon as she finished high school.
“I met Lena by chance, a few months ago,” she also informed me. “She is married too, and if you see her husband, you will drop dead! He is just gorgeous! As about her, she has lost weight and she is very beautiful. Moreover, she has a permanent job in the Social Security Insurance Foundation!”
Really now, isn't this odd? The most boring girls in the school, always stuck in a corner, parroting the lesson again and again, are now married to handsome and successful men, and they have permanent jobs in public services...
Saturday, 5th November 1988
Today I went on a day trip to Kavouri beach together with my mother, my sister, Antony and some friends of the couple: Emmanuel with his wife, handsome Nick with his new girlfriend who is a gipsy (literally), and Dennis with Mary. Right from the start I could see that my mother and I didn't match well with the others. I tried to keep a positive mind and I was happy to take part in the volleyball game they fixed up after a while. However, a lot of time passed without my getting the ball and I began to wonder...
Before long I realized that Emmanuel, who was playing in the first row, always jumped up and down like a kid, especially when the ball was coming my direction, and took great care to prevent me from playing! After a while I got out of the game, rather disappointed. I don't think that anybody noticed.
I made myself comfortable on a boulder and I unconsciously started to observe the people who were coming and going all over the beach: Hundreds of persons are crowded in my range of vision; they are walking slowly or fast, they are shouting or lingering, they are laughing, gesticulating, beckoning, running, climbing up and down the rocks, changing directions. Each one of them is doing something different, yet they are all following a common inner tempo, sharing a comm
on purpose; they are all secretly driven by the same invisible yet rational force which binds, controls and operates them like marionettes in a weird puppet show...
Saturday, 28th January 1989
A few days ago uncle Harry and his wife invited us to their home in Nikaia, in order to make me a match. I don't really like the idea, yet I wouldn't like to miss a good opportunity. So, this evening I decided to pay that visit together with my father, so as to meet the would-be groom.
His name is Tim, he is 32 years old, he is a factory worker and not attractive at all: He looks like a plump vampire with pointed yellow teeth, and he struck me as wayward and smarmy. However, my father was enthusiastic about him, the two of them talked jovially together for more than an hour, and dad did his best to impress him with his sea adventures -like he always does. As about me, I did everything I could to make a negative impression to the bloke, bearing objections to anything he said. Nevertheless, he didn't seem to mind and he expressed the desire to see me again...
Wednesday, 1st February 1989
The truth is that I was not at all in the mood for meeting the vampire again, but the pressure from my parents, relatives and neighbours is incredible. Apart from that, I feel I must make my mind up and go steady with someone, even if it is someone I don't really like. Time flies, I am not a teenager anymore, and there is no sign of true love in view. So, I clenched my teeth and agreed to go out on a date with Tim last night.
At 8:00 o' clock in the evening we met in a crowded cafeteria in Glyfada. As soon as we sat at the table, Tim put on an air of importance and said: “I'll tell you something I haven't told anybody, not even my mother: I am not a simple worker in the factory, I am a shareholder!” and after a while: “I was asked to become a manager, but I didn't accept because I would be obliged to become a fink!”.
He kept trying hard to prove what a remarkable person he is, but no matter what he was saying I couldn't stifle my disgust for him. On the other side, I feel obliged to go on seeing him. I am not getting any younger and I have to get married before it is too late...
Sunday, 5th February 1989
Last night I went on another date with Tim, in the same cafeteria, although I was feeling miserable -like a sheep being led to slaughter. The bloke probably got wind of my not being crazy about him and got sulky; yet, he offered me a red rose, one of those sold by a vagabond gipsy woman.
This time he confided in me that his best friend is his mother and that if we finally got married, I would have to forget the rest of the world and socialize only with her, just like he does.
Anyway, due to lack of mutual interest, we split after an hour and a half and I didn't even remember to take the flower with me; I just left it on the table. He wished to meet me tonight too, but I said I couldn't. Finally, I agreed to see him again on Tuesday.
When I arrived home, I was so confused and uneasy that I sat on a chair from 1:00 to 2:30 a.m., lost in my thoughts, without even changing clothes...
Tuesday, 7th February 1989
Good news at last! The publisher Halaris phoned me this morning and asked me to meet him at his office tomorrow afternoon, so as to sign a contract for the publishing of my novel “The Conspiracy of Shadows”!
I am on cloud nine, however there is a thorn in my happiness: I have promised to call that jerk of Tim and arrange to go out with him this evening.
“What do you want?” he asked coldly, as soon as he heard my voice on the phone.
“To meet you tonight,” I replied.
“So, you can meet me tonight?” he said ironically, and I understood: He bears a grudge because I avoid meeting him every day -as if we had some serious love affair.
“Yes,” I answered flatly.
“We had better stop here!”
“As you want!” I said spontaneously, hardly believing my ears. Free at last! Free again! My relief is beyond words; I feel as if I've just escaped a death trap...
Wednesday, 8th February 1989
Probably the most important day of my life: Right after work, at about 4:30 in the afternoon, I arrived at the offices of Halaris Publishing. The people were friendly and the atmosphere seemed positive, yet I couldn't fight a certain nervousness.
“So young and you are a writer?” asked the middle-aged manageress at a moment.
“I am not so young,” I answered in embarrassment.
The publisher showed up an hour later. He greeted me warmly, we discussed a few things about my book and we finally signed the contract, according to which my novel will be published by the end of the year.
When I left, I was overwhelmed with happiness; yet, I had no sooner reached the bus station than I was assailed by doubts: There is no seal of the company on the contract, which makes me wonder about its validity... However, I soon dismissed all pessimistic thoughts and I allowed myself to revel in the unprecedented sense of success...
Thursday, 9th February 1989
Without actually realizing how, Mr Zafirakis started a conversation about arts, only to conclude with an air of irony: “I believe that all those who occupy themselves with arts such as painting, music, writing and that sort of thing, are dead losses. I mean, anybody can paint a picture, or compose a song, or write a novel if they put their mind to it. But this isn't what normal people do; normal people prefer to spend their time working!”
I considered his point of view completely irrational, but I pretended to agree with him. It is not wise to object against bosses and lunatics. Anyway, that statement of Lucas sounded quite odd, especially after my unhoped-for success of yesterday...
Saturday, 11th March 1989
Life is getting better and better: It's about a couple of months now that I have been keeping company with Louise Hoidas, an old schoolmate of mine I've known ever since we were in elementary school. We meet in the bus to work every morning, we talk a lot and that's how we finally became good friends. She is a jovial and friendly person, she displays a spirit of understanding about anything she hears. Moreover, she wins everybody's confidence with her optimism and innocence.
Louise has also introduced me not only to Nondas, her fiancé, but to her numerous friends as well, with whom we meet almost every Saturday night. For the first time in my life, I have the opportunity to go out with other young people and have lots of fun! We usually go to restaurants, cafeterias, theaters, cinemas, or disco clubs!
More often than not, Philip comes along too: He is a friend of Nondas and he is courting me all the time. I can't say he is ugly or bad, yet I'm not very fond of him -maybe because he has a long beard and he tends to overreact: He gesticulates a lot, he talks a lot, he laughs a lot, he says lots of insipid jokes.
Last night we all went to the disco “Oldies but Goodies”, where they mostly play pop and rock music of the '60s and '70s. All at once, Philip pulled me by the hand and took me off to the dance floor. While we were dancing together his favourite love song, he was being rather flamboyant: He kept on making strange moves, and suddenly took my hands, raised them up and made sure we were dancing with our palms stuck together. I was very embarrassed, everybody was looking at us and I think we made a fool of ourselves. Then we danced a blues song and the bloke remarked that I wasn't mincing enough.
Later, after we had left the club and we were walking towards the taxi station, Philip approached me again and started jesting with me: “You don't know a thing about dancing and you are incapable of improving!” he remarked, smiling foolishly. I didn't get him wrong or anything, but I think he is a nuisance...
Chapter 23: Obsession