“I’m good. It’s late there, no?”
“Yes, almost 2 a.m. Wow! We had some friends over and lost track of the time. I’ve got some big news, and I wanted to share it with you. Uncle Stavros and I are thinking about buying a place on the island!”
“Like a timeshare? For your annual visits?” I ask, getting the distinct feeling that I’m about to get some shit delivered in sparkly wrapping paper.
“No, Kenna.” Uncle Nick is beaming. “Like a semi-permanent thing. We’re considering opening a little café here and slowing things down. We’re not getting any younger.”
“But … what about the diner? Will you get Carlos to manage it full time?” I lean forward in the chair.I will not hyperventilate. I will not vomit.Princess Von Floofy licks the underside of my chin.
“No. Carlos is even older than me and Stavros. We’ve spoken to a realtor, and we’re going to try and see what we can get for the diner. You, me, and Stavros. Three-way split.” Uncle Nick grins, and I can see Uncle Stavros in the background, clearing dishes from the table. “It’s a great time to sell. The place is doing well, and with all that’s been going on in Ephron, I’m sure we can find a buyer.”
“You would sell the diner?” It’s unthinkable! The Ephron Diner has been run by Papadopoulos family members since the 1950s.
“Nothing lasts forever, sweetie. Think of what a great fresh start this could be for all of us. Anyway, Stavros and I wouldn’t move here full time till September, so nothing’s happening tonight. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that we’ve listed the diner and the house with Hearth and Holm Realty. Let’s just see if there are any bites.”
“The house, too?”The house with the apartment over the garage, where I currently live, rent-free?
September is only three months away.
“It’s going to be okay, Kenna.” Uncle Stavros grabs the phone and chastises Uncle Nick. “Why do you have to tell her like this? We’re still here for you, honey. Maybe you want to come to Greece and stay with us here. You should see how many cats there are living on this island. I bet you would take the best photos of them! Maybe you could make a calendar? We could sell it to tourists in our café!”
For a moment, I actually consider this. Living on a Greek Island, taking photos of cats, does not sound terrible. It definitely beats 5 a.m. shifts that start with me sleepily schlepping forty-pound bags of beans and coaxing coffee out the world’s crankiest espresso machine. Snapping photos of lazy, feral felines catnapping on blue benches, shaded by bunches of fuchsia-colored bougainvillea is way sexier than wiping crusty food off the laminated menus and scraping gum off the undersides of tables at 1 a.m. But then I pan back and observe the bigger picture.
Sponging off my elderly gay uncles, as I turn the big 3-0, is hardly aspirational, even for me.
I know how much both of them have dreamed of retiring to Mykonos someday. I just hadn’t expected that day to come so soon. Somehow, I thought I’d just keep living in the apartment above the garage and working at the diner indefinitely. At least until I figure out what I really want to do with my life.
“I understand.” I swallow and force a smile onto my face. “Sounds like a great plan. You two deserve this.”
The pity party commences the moment I end the call. Why isn’t Georgia here to talk with me about this? I really need her to be here, not off glamping in a yurt with her handsome, wealthy fiancé.
My friends are all falling in love, getting married, and having children. My beloved uncles are jetting off to Greece and selling the family biz. Meanwhile, I’m a twenty-eight-year-old orphan with no man in my life, no real career, a semi-functional camera, and a lapful of dog fur. I am the poster child for arrested development. I’m still wearing the friendship bracelet Georgia made for me in high school.
I haven’t felt this alone since my mom died when I was fourteen. Honestly, what do I have going for me besides making a decent cup of coffee and taking okayish photos of dogs?
“What am I going to do?” I ask Princess. But she’s fallen asleep and she merely snuffles and snores, wiggling closer to my belly.
Hey Kenna! I stopped in the diner earlier, but they told me you were photographing some strays today.
Got a min?
My phone lights up with a message from Dean Riley, the owner of the same theater that was being discussed on theLit Lovers’podcast episode.
Just finished the shoot. What’s up? Everything going well with the show?
Yes! That’s what I’m texting about. Can I get you to take some photos for the playbill?
I sit up straighter in the chair. Princess grunts her displeasure at this.
Like what … photos of the sets?
No, you dork, photos of the talent.
Dean includes a LOL emoji.
Everyone is arriving this weekend. They’ll be getting settled, and rehearsals start the following week.
You want me to take photos of celebrities?
