Greeks Bearing Gifts

FORTY-FIVE

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she said. “I mean, I wouldn’t like anything to happen to you.”

“Not you as well. I already told Garlopis, I can handle Max Merten.”

“Actually I was talking about your plans to bribe that policeman. Or try to. If he doesn’t take the fakelaki it would be all the excuse he needed to put you in prison.”

“He’s already got more than enough of an excuse to do just that.”

“I really do wonder if you know what you’re getting into, that’s all.”

“I know what I’m getting out of. This damn country, I hope.”

“That’s not very flattering, Christof. To me or my country.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, sugar. Look, I just want my lousy passport back. When I can see my picture in that little green book again, maybe I’ll feel a bit more comfortable about staying on for a while.”

Her eyes stayed on the meandering road ahead; I was glad about that; it meant she couldn’t look straight through me. I glanced out the passenger window at the sumptuously appointed view; with its bright blue sky, sapphire sea, and majestic coastline, it looked like the set for some inspiring Cecil B. DeMille epic. On a road like that, and with a driver like Elli, it was easy to think of Muses and Graces and of returning home after a long journey. Munich wasn’t exactly Ithaca but it would do.

“Did you take a day off work?” I asked, changing the subject quickly.

“It’s a Saturday.”

“Yes, but you said you work on a Saturday.”

“We have a different attitude to work than you Germans.”

“So I noticed.”

“Greeks don’t believe that God will like us better because we work hard, or because we deny ourselves pleasure. We prefer to believe that God wants us to go to the beach and admire the view. That contemplation of all the Unmoved Mover’s works is the highest form of moral activity there is. It’s the only way of understanding him.”

“That doesn’t sound much like Marx.”

Elli smiled. “It’s Aristotle. Actually he has a lot more in common with Marx than just an impossibly large beard.”

“I’m sure he does, but please don’t tell me what. I’m too busy right now, admiring the view.”

Elli glanced at me and saw that I was looking at her.

“The view’s the other way, isn’t it?”

“I’ve seen it. But you. You’re always worth looking at. Garlopis was right. Looking at you is enough to make a man believe in God.”

“He said that?”

“Even if I can’t quite bring myself to believe in you, my lovely. Snow White is supposed to wait for her handsome young prince, not fall for the grizzled huntsman with an ax to grind.”

“I see we’re back on the age-old debate about my age and you being old.”

“I can see what’s in it for me. That’s obvious to any mirror on the wall, not only a magic one. I’m trying to figure out what’s in it for you, that’s all.”

“You think I might have an ulterior motive for choosing to spend time with you? Is that it?”

“Women usually do.”

“Perhaps you underestimate yourself, Christof.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint you the way I usually disappoint myself.”

“A woman falls for a man and maybe he falls for her. There’s aesthetics and chemistry and biology and a lot of other technical stuff. Then there’s what he says and how she responds to it. And let’s not forget the metaphysics of it, too: the things we can’t know—the time and place, and the men I’ve known before, and the women you’ve known before. I don’t have a secret agenda here. I don’t have a wicked stepmother or even seven friends who are dwarves. I like you. Maybe it’s just as simple as that.”

“Maybe.”

“You know what your real problem is? You want to try and understand something that goes beyond understanding.”

“That’s the German in me, I guess.”

“Then we’ll have to make a Greek out of you. I think you could use some cheering up. Sometimes you’re just a little bit too contemplative. Like you have something else on your mind.”

“There usually is. The gun in your bag, perhaps—that might give anyone pause for a whole series of thoughts.”

“You think I’m planning to shoot you? It’s an idea at that.”

“One that’s already crossed my mind.”

“Why on earth would I shoot you?”

“You know, I still can’t think of a good reason. But I was hoping I might find one before you got around to actually doing it.”

“Let me know when you come up with one. It will be interesting to hear it. Who knows? Maybe it will seem like such a good reason that it will inspire me to shoot you for real. I could certainly use a little target practice.” She shook her head. “Your head is a mess, do you know that? With all that suspicion it’s a wonder you can think straight. I’m guessing, of course, but I think you must have had some very interesting girlfriends before me. Maybe some of them were the type to go and shoot a man.”

“Then you should feel sorry for me. Besides, I’m a victim of my own upbringing. The fact of the matter is that I come from a broken home. All Germans do, you know. My home’s been broken so many times it looks like the Parthenon.”

Elli was quiet for a while, during which time she bit her lip a lot as if she was trying to prevent herself from telling me something important and I let her alone in the hope that, eventually, she would; but when she did speak again it was to tell me something much more personal than I might have expected, and that brought a tear to her eye.

“You really want to know why I carry a gun?”

“Sure. But I’ll settle for your explanation.”

“My father gave it to me.”

“Beats a bottle of perfume and a doll, I suppose.”

“He gave it to me because last year, not long before he died—on the Ochi Day, which is the national anniversary of General Metaxas telling Mussolini to go and screw himself—a man tried to rape me, in Athens. He was a much younger man than you—a mutamassir, which is to say an Egyptianized Syrian who’d been living in Alexandria before being expelled from the country by Nasser. I made the mistake of trying to help him find a job with the Red Cross. He made me do things—horrible things—and he would certainly have raped me if he hadn’t been interrupted by George Papakyriakopoulos.”

“Meissner’s lawyer.”

“That’s right. George has been a pretty good friend to me ever since.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“There’s a lot of rape these days in Greece and I carry a gun to make sure it doesn’t happen again or, if it does, that I’m able to take my immediate revenge. But I also carry it in case I ever run into the bastard who almost raped me.”

“You didn’t report it to the police?”

“This is Greece. Reporting a rape, or an attempted rape, is almost as bad as the actual act. Not that I’ve ever seen him again. He disappeared, I’m glad to say. But if I ever do see him again I intend to kill him and to hell with the consequences. In the meantime I like older men like you because I think your sex drive isn’t nearly as strong as that of younger men like him, which means you’re more likely to take no for an answer. Especially if I have a gun in my hand. Does that make sense? I hope so. There. Now you know my dirty secret.”