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It was just a contract.
Generous, but not some major cash dump for an old friend from Anapliró, and her accommodation was a separate contract for an eight-week term.
‘A couple of weeks’ leeway,’ Galen explained. ‘So you’re not looking for both a new job and a place to live.’
‘That’s very thoughtful.’
‘I can be.’
He smiled, and Roula did not know what to do, for she had never known a smile to have such effect.
She was acutely aware that she was probably the worst-dressed woman in the restaurant, yet when he smiled at her she felt almost a little beautiful...and a little bit teary too.
She did not know what this was.
Did not know how, when he pointed out a line on the contract, his finger seemed still to be before her eyes long after it had left the page.
Perhaps Galen was her version of seeing pattern, because this was sensory overload, and Roula did not know what to do with it all.
She even liked his gentle chiding as he tutted when she told him, ‘I don’t want a bonus in crypto currency.’
‘Philistine!’ he teased, and then added, ‘Roula, it’s a minor detail.’
‘Well, I’d rather have cash.’
‘We call it fiat currency—however, the “cash” equivalent wouldn’t pay for a glass of wine at the moment,’ Galen said. ‘It’s more a morale thing to do with the potential of the project...’
She picked up the pen and it felt cold and heavy in her hands. ‘I’m having a wobble,’ she admitted. ‘According to Kristina, I should only have them at home.’
‘Then take it home to read,’ Galen said, and she watched as his hand returned. She felt the warm brush of his fingers as he took the weight of the pen, yet she felt no lighter. Instead she felt heavy with indecision, for it was no longer the job that felt challenging, but the six weeks in close proximity to Galen she was struggling with. Or rather, her new companion: awareness.
Such awareness.
And not just for the man who sat before her, but of her own body in the chair. She prickled all over, as if tiny shards of glass were working their way to the surface of her skin, not so much pain, more a rising presence.
And so, instead of signing, she nodded in relief at the waiter’s suggestion they move to the balcony to enjoy their coffee.
Only there was no relief there, for they were guided to a plump couch to savour the sunset.
‘Still better than the school trip?’ Galen said, as pinks blazed in the sky and the temples were lit on the sacred stone, and in the distance the Aegean turned shifting purple.
‘So much better.’ Roula sighed. ‘This is surely the best view on earth.’
‘Truth?’ he said. ‘I prefer the view from my home. A different angle, but...’
‘You’re so arrogant!’ She half laughed.
‘Am I?’
‘I don’t know...’ Roula admitted.
She didn’t know!
She was remembering him—remembering Galen who said things as they were, and offended at times, but was always kind.
He was the most honest person she’d ever known. At times so direct it was confrontational. And yet there was a rare sense of security to be found in that too. Truth.
‘There was snow here this winter...’ Galen said as she gazed out.
