Tides

by Violetta Alaiyan

Maria sat down in her chair on the balcony. A breeze ruffled her light brown hair, momentarily blinding her from the view. Large, green palm trees stretched in the yard, seeming to reach the sky. A magnificent lawn surrounded her apartment, and rose buds of every color were just beginning to bloom. She looked out to the deep, infamous Greek ocean, where big white waves were crashing against the shore. The beach was just a minute walk from the house, but Maria couldn’t bear to go. She hadn’t been since the accident.

Maria often sat on the balcony. Sometimes she would also go to the kitchen and pour herself a cup of ice tea or cut herself a piece of baklava. Her husband, Stavros, called these days “the well days.” When Maria would do anything other than stay in bed, he would tell the neighbors she was having “a well day.” They were always curious, the neighbors. It’s the Greeks; they’re never minding their own business, and always trying to be in someone else’s.

Suddenly, Maria heard the screen door slide open behind her, interrupting the silence.

“Yia sou, Maria.” The familiar voice of her husband, Stavros, drowned out the peaceful sounds of the birds. “How are you today?” Stavros asked, attempting to force a conversation he should have known she wouldn’t have.

“Kala,” Good, Maria replied, not looking up from the scenery.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” Stavros asked her, although he knew she wouldn’t. Maria told him she wasn’t feeling too well, a much too familiar and expected response. Stavros walked toward Maria’s chair and kissed her forehead lightly, but she didn’t even notice.

She hardly noticed anything anymore. When she wasn’t sleeping, she sat, seeming to daze off into daydreams. Depression, the doctors called it. What did they know anyway? They diagnose your problem as one thing or another, but they don’t really care. They tell you you’re depressed, they give you medication, and then they resume their own lives. They move on to new patients. They go home to their spouses, to their kids. They watch them grow up, the kids. They come home and have dinner with them; they learn about their school day. They chaperone their school dances and help them with their math homework; they watch them grow up and grow old. The doctors called it depression, but what did they know anyway.

“Maria mou, the therapist is expecting us in a half hour,” Stavros yelled from the kitchen.
The doctor had recommended a therapist for Maria just the previous week when she had gone in for a check-up. She knew it had been Stavros’s idea, though.

“The doctor said he’s poli kalos,” Stavros said, as if a good therapist was a reason to leave the house.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind knocked over the beach umbrella leaning against the balcony wall.

***

“Mama! Mama! Let’s go, mama!” Alithea had basically dragged Maria out of the house; she had been much too excited. It was a usual, cloudless day. Maria had just bought the new sun-sheltering haven, and Alithea couldn’t wait to try it out.

“Come on mama! Grigora!” Alithea said, gesturing to her mom to hurry up.
“Stavros, dear, are you coming?” Maria asked, as Alithea dragged her out the door, the big, blue and white umbrella in hand.
“I will come in a little while,” Stavros said.

As soon as Maria walked outside, sweat began to drip down her forehead, and her hair-line became wet with perspiration.

“Alithea, to capello sou,” Maria told her daughter, putting the beach hat on her squirming seven year old head.

***

“Maria, come inside, our appointment is in fifteen minutes,” Stavros said, opening the screen door.

“I told you, I don’t feel well. I want to sit here and I don’t want you to disturb me. Is that too much to ask? We are the only ones in this household and somehow you find it necessary to come and talk to me every five minutes.” Maria’s tone sent shivers down Stavros’ spine, momentarily freezing the heat.

Stavros never bothered Maria when she would get in such moods. He could not cure her, that he knew. In the beginning, he had tried to talk, but it had only made things worse; it only made her project her anger onto him. Stavros walked to her chair and took her hands in his.
“Ella, agapi mou.” Come on, my love.
In a few minutes Stavros was backing out of the driveway; Maria was in the passenger’s seat. The silence between them was one that they had both become accustomed to. To Maria, it was an effortless, easy silence. It was a pleasant silence.

***

The sand beneath Maria’s toes was hot like an erupting volcano. The sun was shooting down from the sky, red and orange rays of heat boiling everything in its path. Maria found a nice spot near the shore and set up the umbrella.

“Come, Alithea,” Maria said, gesturing her to sit under the shady refuge.
“I don’t want to wear sunscreen, Mama!” Alithea cried as Maria spread the white cream onto her forehead.

“If you don’t wear sunscreen, you will burn like the sun. You will become bright red like a tomato,” Maria said, smiling down to her daughter. “Now remember,” Maria said. “Don’t go in too deep.”

“Yes mommy, I know!” Alithea replied, giggling and rolling her eyes. When Maria had finished rubbing in the sunscreen, Alithea sprang up from the sand and ran to the water.

“Sayapo, korichimou!” Maria shouted after her. I love you, my child.

***

They pulled up to Dr. Papadopoulos’ house. Windows with elegant, white curtains surrounded the front side of the house, and on the big, brown, inviting door was a label that read “Dr. Yannis Papadopoulos- Therapist.” Stavros got out of the car and walked around to Maria’s seat, and helped her out of the car. He took her hand, walked to the front door, and rang the doorbell.

“One second!” a voice shouted from inside. Then, a lean man opened the door. He looked relaxed, his small shoulders hung casually at his side. He wore small, square spectacles, giving him an intelligent and thoughtful look.

“Hello, you must be Maria and Stavros. Very nice to meet you,” he said, shaking Stavros’ hand. “Ella, ella messa separakalo,” Come, come inside please. Dr. Papadopoulos led Maria and Stavros into his office, a small box-shaped room. Candles were the only source of light, and the sound of faint jazz was coming from a small stereo.

“I am not like most therapists,” Dr. Papadopoulo said, eyeing Maria’s questioning gaze. “I’m here because I want you to get better, Maria. I’m here because I care.”

Maria examined this man. He seemed sincere, the most sincere of all the doctors she had had. Maria liked something about Dr. Papadopoulos. He had charisma; he had grace and elegance. She sat down next to Stavros on the snowy white couch, facing Dr. Papadopoulos.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone you love, Maria. My younger brother died from cancer when I was 20 years. Now I am 44, and I still think about him every day. It is not something you can get over, Maria. I know that. It is not something you can get over, but it is something you can pass. I know the pain you feel. You’re not alone, Maria. I want to understand. I want to help you Maria, but I can’t help you unless you let me.”

***

She was in bed. She was sleeping; she was curled up next to Stavros. She had heard pounding on the door, heavy, heavy pounding, like gunshots. She heard a woman’s voice at the door, a frantic woman’s voice. Her neighbor, Eleni Pavlidau, it had sounded like.

“Stavros! Stavros! MARIA!” Stavros and Maria jumped out of bed and ran to the front door. They knew something was wrong. Stavros swung the door open, Maria right behind him.

“What is it, Eleni?” Stavros said, upon seeing the crazed woman in front of him.

“Come, quickly. It’s Alithea. There has been an accident.” She said, gesturing for them to follow her down the street.

“Where is Alithea?!” Maria cried.

“She is sleeping over at Sophia’s. What the hell is going on?” Stavros shouted.

“Come, there is no time to talk,” Eleni said. “Follow me, quickly.” Maria and Stavros grabbed their shoes on their way out the door. Just before Maria shut the door behind her, she managed to quickly glance at the clock on the kitchen stove. 3:30 AM.

The path to the beach was dark. They ran. Maria’s heartbeat was audible through the sound of the crickets in the distance. The sand began to tickle Maria’s ankles; the path had cleared and they had finally arrived at the ocean. What Maria saw stopped her in her tracks. Her jaw opened, and her hand came to her mouth in what seemed like slow motion. Alithea was lying on the ground, her hands to her side. Her hair flowed out from her head, thin and damp. Her deep blue eyes were shut tight. Unconscious.

“XRISTE MOU.” Maria gasped and ran to her lifeless daughter, falling to her knees as tears streamed down her shocked face. “WHERE IS THE DOCTOR? GET THE DOCTOR!” Maria shouted, taking Alithea in her hands. “Alithea! Alithea mou! Open your eyes, Alithea. ALITHEA!”

Stavros pulled Maria off her daughter, but Maria struggled against him, hitting and kicking him, begging him to wake Alithea up.

“The ambulance is on their way, Maria. But Eleni’s husband, Yiorgos, he’s a doctor. Alithea has no heartbeat.”

***

Dr. Papadopoulos handed Maria a tissue box. The tears were real, full.

“That’s all it took. She was here, and then she was gone. They just wanted to be adventurous. They wanted to be adventurous so they snuck out of the house and went swimming. But the current had been too big. That’s all it took. That’s all it goddamn took.”

It was the most Maria had spoken in months. It had made her feel better, almost good. As they returned home, Maria helped herself out of the car. Once inside, she made her way to the balcony, to the one place where she had felt safe. The one place she seemed on top of the world, on top of the problems. The one place she didn’t have to face it. But now she felt different. She looked onto the ocean. The sun was just beginning to set; an incredible sunset was emerging in the distance. A group of seagulls were flying through the sky.

“CAW, CAW,” they called out. As Maria watched the flight of the birds, she noticed one lagging behind the others, a lonely bird. It struggled to catch up. It flapped and flapped its wings, harder and harder, trying to speed up, trying to catch up. It seemed it was too far behind. Then, suddenly, another seagull emerged from behind a tree. It caught up to the lonely seagull, and they flew together, both no longer alone. Maria smiled, and looked down onto the ocean. The waves were small. Tamed.