Pelle and Amara have to answer some very important questions. When does love become toxic? At what point do you gain the courage to realize the perfect relationship has turned into a mascarade? And when exactly do you see the abuse you've put each o...
We met some of her old friends a few days after Christmas. I was still amazed by the Karavaki, which is basically when the Greek decorate boats with Christmas lights.
Her friends had found it funny, that I was so amazed by their little tradition. I was largely amazed by everything, though. They looked almost inhuman to me, the stories they told, the way in which they saw life.
Her best friend was named Mellissa, which means honey bee, so I took it on myself to call her Honey Bee when she was talking in English with me. Amara found it strange, but laughed it off. Mellissa was not as tall as Amara, and she was thinner, and I found her utterly ugly comparing to the goddess I was considering my lover.
But Mellissa was not an ugly woman, she was simply not the one I was so irremediably in love with. She had the characteristic Greek nose like an arched bow and her waist was small and bony. My Amara was curvy, my Amara was shaped by Zeus himself, my Amara was born from the sea foam, in a sea shell.
Mellissa, however, was funnier. I'll never understand what I found so funny about that woman. I sometimes think I was bored by Amara's serious way to look at life. Because Mellissa was not intelligent, or a good speaker. She was just matching the loutty sense of humour I had acquired since I'd dropped out of University.
Her other friends were pretty similar to her, however. Smart, serious, and with the vitality and working power of all the southeners. These people -as Amara showed me numerous times -knew how to do anything and everything and would never say no to doing any kind of hard work. Women, children and men, all working hard in their gardens, homes and yards. Such vital souls, such strong hearts, unafraid of the earth, unafraid of the sea. They made me think they are like me, since I was considering myself a fearless viking. Truth is I couldn't do half of the work her girl friends were doing every day in their homes.
We went to one of Amara's friend's house, without him inviting us, and I was a little dazed, understanding it was a life long tradition, probably, and they were feeling like home.
The guy looked like a cartoon to me, as I watched him pour coffee for all of us. He was tall as a mountain, muscles on top of muscles, with thick black hair, very long and wavy, with thick eyebrows and thick lips and a look in his eyes that I suspected had the same powers as Medusa's.
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I was a little dazed, in my Scandinavian pride. Wasn't I supposed to be the viking there? And yet, there we were. My blonde thin hair touching my shoulders looked like a good try comparing to that guy's mane. I had tried to grow a beard my whole life, and gave up years prior, since it was all just patches and tufts. But this guy -Gandalf would have been gealous.
Not to mention I was ashamed to stand near him, since his shoulders were larger than the door's entry and he was maybe 30 cm taller than me.
I didn't quite understand. I had good hair. I was tall and muscular enough. And the desire of having a beard never hit me so hard. But being near that guy made me feel like a scarwny, ugly, boring child. And that wasn't mainly because of the way he looked, but the way Amara looked at him.
He had photos of her in his house, from when they were in High School, and even though no one said anything, I was almost sure that at some point between 14 and 18 years old, these two had been more than best friends.
But it was just a childish thing, right? The love you're experiencing in Hhigh School is supposed to show you the type of person you want to be with, and for Amara, it wasn't this Greek Jason Momoa -it was me. So it was time for me to have some of their good old wine sent my Dyonissus himself.
This is when my notes get confusing. When I wrote them, I was flooded with guilt and denying my fault, but now, I know exactly how things went down, and the damage we've caused.
So I will not keep them in my drawers, I will rewrite them as if it's today those things have happened.
