Norman's Neighborhood

Twelve

"Mmm, this is really good! I've never gone to the Greek market. I didn't know they had homemade Greek dishes there. It's excellent!" Dena enthused.

"Oh, I get food there every couple of months. They just started the delivery service a few months ago. Sometimes I go in and pick it up, but today I didn't feel like going out," her mother said.

"Zach Ganas is in my shop class. He's a junior," Logan contributed. "He works in the store, and I think his dad does the cooking."
"You know," CC told them, "his grandma lives with them.  She's only five years older than I am, and the poor thing has dementia. Their house is behind the market, so the whole family is able to help care for her."

Ray, Dena's father, looked around the table and said,
"That's the way it was always done in the old countries. Not always possible nowadays. Nice when families can pitch in and help." He was a quiet man, a retired veterinarian who usually felt more comfortable around animals than people. In his retirement, he enjoyed keeping Continental giant rabbits; they didn't require a lot of conversation.

When everyone seemed to be finished, CC started to get up from the table. Dena stopped her, saying,
"Logan and I will clear up, Mom. Stay put!"
"There's dessert and coffee - I'll just go get that."
"We can do it," Dena insisted. "Relax!"
Logan got up, took a couple of the disposable aluminum pans, and headed to the kitchen.

Dena picked up the others, stacking the empty dolmas carton and the significantly reduced carton of tzatziki on the empty part of one pan. As she passed Mike, he sheepishly admitted,
"I just had the impulse to offer Norman something. Poor fellow, I wonder where he is right now..."

**********

Norman was standing by a wrought iron fence, looking between its bars at the unattainable sidewalk beyond it. Zane, directed by his γιαγιά, had opened the door at the back of the room and let the dog out, making sure he pulled the door shut before clicking the deadbolt into place.

Once outside, Norman had discovered that he was imprisoned. He had gone around the perimeter of the yard, finding no reasonable exit. The fence, though affording a clear view of the sidewalk and street on the other side, was securely anchored at every point. Robust and unyielding, it was not going to allow him to circumvent it.

Near the back wall of the store there was a narrow gate set in the fence, through which Norman had come with the people. It was locked. The barrier continued across a garden area to the back of the house, made a right angle and was fastened to the house. Then there was the house itself, and on the other side a matching fence. All in all, it was a well-secured space.

Norman tried barking at the door, but there was no response. The door was a heavy steel one that didn't allow much transfer of sound, and furthermore, Zane was entirely absorbed in his research. He had been transported, mentally, to Santorini. He felt the tremors of volcanic unrest, heard the distant rumble, smelled - and almost tasted - the sulfur-tainted air. He did not hear the voice of the large gray dog.