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To: Julian.EdwardsSubject: married life
Hi Jules,
I’m officially married now, and I don’t yet have much to report. Nico has done his best to avoid me since the ceremony, and I’m so used to having no privacy at home that it feels strange. And lonely. I’m doing my best to make a happy life here, to convince him to understand that I won’t give our child a false family. He’s not making it easy, however. I guess that means I’m going to have to force him to pay attention to me.
I miss you already. And I miss my brothers and Felicity. I miss Tim Tams and Vegemite and Iced VoVos and lamingtons and Caramello Koalas. I’m homesick. But I know being here is the best chance I have of being a good mother.
How’s work? I hope the new job is treating you well. Tell me everything!
Love, Mari.
Subject: Re: married life
Hey Mari,
Keep a lookout for something in the mail. I got the address off your brother. Hint: it’s caramel-y and chocolate-y.
I’m sorry you’re lonely. I miss you too. You have no idea how much. I want nothing more than to be sitting with you in your backyard having a beer and talking about life. Maybe we can plan a visit? I’d love to come and see you. I’m thinking about you day and night.
Jules.
Marianna spent the days after the wedding thinking about how she met Nico. The memory, which hung around like an invisible beast breathing down the back of her neck, kept her hot and uncomfortable. Not that it mattered, because Nico was avoiding her. Last night she’d gone into the office to tell him to come to bed—but he’d claimed he needed to work.
At some point around 3 a.m., she’d snuck out of the room to get a drink of water and found him doing the same. He’d been staring out at the ocean, the moon full and high, spilling pale silver light over the marble countertops. He’d caught her reflection in the window and turned, his eyes dark and his chest bare. Shadows had made his muscles more defined, and her eyes had snagged on the V at his waist where his pajama bottoms sat obscenely low. It had taken all her willpower not to go to him in the anonymity of the dark, lifting the hem of her nightie to show him what she wanted.
Yes. The word hissed in her brain. Yes, she did want it. After years of being undesirable, she’d had a taste of pleasure that could never be forgotten. Now her celibacy was worse, because she knew what she was missing. She had to do something about this. To make him realize she wouldn’t disappear.
“Marianna?” Lydia waved a hand in front of her face. “Are you okay?”
Lydia was one of the younger housekeepers who worked part-time for Nico. She was sweet and kind, and had agreed to help Marianna with learning Greek. They’d formed a fast friendship, counting romance novels and cooking shows among their shared hobbies, and Marianna was happy to have a friendly face around the house.
“You’re not paying attention.”
Marianna shook her head, trying to get her thoughts straight. She’d done that far too many times this week. “Yes, sorry. I had a rough night last night…”
You wish you’d had a rough night last night.
Oh god, she needed to stop doing that.
“So, as I was saying…” Lydia looked at her sternly, like a school teacher working with a naughty child. She was seated at the high stools in the kitchen while Lydia set about cleaning the countertops. “Se efharistó polí. What does it mean?”
“Thank you very much. Formal.” Marianna tried to picture the textbook Lydia had given her. “Plural?”
“Singular. We use sas for plural.”
She sighed. “Right.”
“So you would use this in speaking with someone in an important position, like if you were meeting with someone from the government. Or to show respect for someone older than you.”
“Se efharistó polí. Sas efharistó polí.” She tripped over the soft, breathy “efh” sound of the word. “Thank you very much.”
“Good!” Lydia clapped her hands together. “And how would you respond if someone said that to you?”
“Tipota.”
“Or?”
“Parakaló.”
Lydia grinned. “You’re a fast learner.”
Marianna nodded. Her life had been a whirlwind of change in the past month, and now that things were normalizing she was acutely aware of all she’d left behind. Not just her family, not just Jules, but her studies, too. Her whole life had been about knowledge and learning. About filling her brain to the brim. These lessons kept her grounded.
But she needed to do something else that would keep her mind active. Marianna had plans to head into town later that week and see if there were any community centers where she might be able to volunteer to help people with language—perhaps teaching English or any of the other languages in which she was fluent. Something to stop her from going stir-crazy.
“Okay, let’s try some vocabulary.” Lydia reached over the kitchen’s island countertop and plucked a green apple from a bowl of fruit. “What’s this?”
“Mílo.”
Then she picked up an orange. “This one?” @thismail.com
