Green Neon

26 You mustn't kiss a girl

Tom awoke from a deep sleep. Because of the dim light and muffled sounds, he had no idea what time it was. The luminous digits of his watch told him it was almost noon. He got up and wiped his face with a damp sponge, woke Nikos and went into the kitchen.

Kyra prepared coffee and placed a bowl of large, bright orange-red tomatoes on the wooden table that stood on the terrace with two benches. There was also a plate of feta cheese and a basket of baguettes.

When Nikos appeared still rather sleepy, they enjoyed a breakfast that Tom liked better than the usual sandwiches with jam. The tomatoes, each with a different, stunted shape, were sweet and juicy, with an intense flavor, and had nothing in common with the round, small, watery fruits that mostly came from Holland and were cheekily called tomatoes by Dutch vegetable farmers.

The coffee awakened their spirits. The pristine blue sky, the fresh sea breeze, the steady lapping of the waves, the scent of jasmine, lavender and oregano all made the boys feel exhilarated. They talked excitedly about how to spend the day. The large beach at the other end of the island was too boring for them, and they would probably avoid the smaller one with the gay Englishmen, so they decided to look for a suitable bathing spot close to the village.

They would have preferred a beach where they could play soccer or go diving with other youths, but Kyra said there were hardly any boys their age on the island. Most of their peers were visiting relatives, glad to be able to leave the island for the holidays if they weren't attending a school on the mainland anyway. Those who stayed at home worked during the tourist season, leaving little time to go to the beach.

So after breakfast they explored the town's surroundings, but there were only a few places where you could go into the water. The coast was rocky and jagged, and in many small coves the waves were too dangerous for swimming. They passed a row of quaint windmills and found a beach where a few families with small children were relaxing.

On the path leading down to the tiny bay, they had to cross a ditch for the sewage of a nearby hotel belonging to the state-owned Xenia chain. Since the creek flowed into the sea only a few meters from the beach, they had already lost all interest in swimming in this bay. The dirt did the rest - not only parts of torn fishing nets and numerous net corks, but also empty bottles and leftovers.

Sobered, they scrambled back onto the path that led along the sea. After two bends, each of which revealed picture-postcard coves, which were also not suitable for swimming, the path led steeply uphill to a cottage surrounded by a garden with blooming flowers and all sorts of vegetables, like an oasis in the parched landscape. To make the idyll perfect, a donkey stood morosely dozing next to the house, and on the veranda sat an old, bearded man, lost in thought, slipping his komboloi, a kind of rosary, through his fingers. They greeted him as they passed and he waved to them.

After a short climb, they reached the top of the hill, and a gorgeous coastline lay at their feet. They climbed down into one of the numerous bays that didn't have a sandy beach but were well protected from the waves. There were hardly any sea urchins, so they dived into the water, which was crystal clear here. Masses of small fish, which literally flashed when a school turned at the same time and reflected the incoming sunlight for a fraction of a second, sometimes hovered motionless for minutes, only to then dart away simultaneously in one direction, as if on command.

They found a flat spot on the rocks high above the water with just enough room for the two of them. Immediately they returned to the topis of their roommate Petros. Tom admitted that at first he had almost been afraid of the sad-eyed man. Yesterday evening, however, the former army captain had warmed up for the first time and revealed a little about himself. They liked him and felt sorry for him.