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“I’m fine.”
“You’re not though, are you? You feel bad for saying what you did to Francesca because you have a heart. In the moment you wanted to finally defend yourself, but the afterglow is not what you expected. You feel worse now. Am I correct?”
She cringes. “Yes. God, I was awful.”
“You weren’t. You were brave today and finally said what you’ve been holding in for years. And maybe it’s time for a change, Violet. As beautiful as this house is, it doesn't reflect you. It’s all straight lines and stark. You’re more warm and welcoming than this place. Also, I noticed you have hardly any ornaments or soft furnishings in here. It’s like you haven’t moved in.”
She looks around. “You’re right. I haven’t. Being by the beach is so nice, though.”
“I’ll grant you that, but maybe your sister is doing you a favor. This is just a house. It doesn’t suit your personality. It suits Francesca's though—cold, white, sharp edges.” I shudder dramatically, making Pom-pom flinch.
This makes Violet laugh.
I bolster her confidence. “You were nothing but articulate when you stood up for yourself, especially when you told her to piss off. You should have also told her she was a baw-bag. Now I would have paid money to see that.”
“A what?” Violet looks confused, smiling.
“A baw-bag, it’s Scottish for an idiot.”
“I love that.” She giggles, then whispers the word back to herself.
She’s thinking.
“You don’t say many Scottish words like that. I thought I would find it difficult to understand you, but you don’t use a lot of slang words.”
“I live on the east coast of Scotland, so our accent is not as strong as other parts of Scotland. But none of us really go about saying your stereotypical words like, och, aye, the noo. We don’t speak like that. We subtly drop in a Scots word or two into what you would class as a normal sentence.”
“Like what? Give me an example.”
I do an easy one. “You’re a blether.”
She scrunches her nose up. “What does that mean?”
“You are talking nonsense.”
She giggles. “Give me another.”
“It’s braw out today.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s a pleasant or nice day today.”
She nods her head.
“It’s more common for the older generations to speak broadly but me and my friends don’t tend to. It’s a subtle word here and there. I think it’s a generational thing.”
“That makes sense, I suppose, as more and more people travel.”
“My grandfather has a very strong Scottish accent. My yaya still finds it hard to understand him sometimes.” I laugh at visions of her shouting profanities in Greek at him when she gets frustrated. She’s a little woman with a big personality. I can see why my grandfather loves her.
“And your yaya is your grandmother, correct?”
“Yeah, you remembered. She’s Greek. Short. Elegant. Feisty and wow, can she cook. Her baklava is the best.” My mouth waters at the thought of flaky pastry layers drizzled in honey, syrup, and nuts.
“I do not know what that is. You’ll have to find a place that does it here so I can taste it.”
“Deal.” New mission: find a Greek bakery.
