If I were ever meant to fly, it would’ve been on this Friday morning—before I’d finally ruined my father. I’d have soared from my balcony over the blue Aegean and landed on the deck of the ferry that was trailing white foam toward Athens. With a sigh, I pleaded, “Come back for me.”
The vessel ignored me with a loud horn blast.
Glancing down, I closed the ledger with a thump that scared a pigeon into the cloudless sky. The numbers didn’t lie—Agistri was bleeding money. With Dad recovering from hip surgery, keeping the taverna open fell on me. But what could I do to bring in more customers? Refresh the menu? Add more desserts?
I rubbed my face, the sound of waves below turning ominous, like a whispered ‘beware.’
“You’re talking to boats now?”
I jumped, heart hammering. Nikos stood on the threshold, a grin on his face. In all the worry, I’d forgotten he was coming for our regular coffee date.
He looked around. “Who are you, and what have you done to my best friend?”
If he knew that the day before I’d thought I might have the evil eye, he’d tease me until the end of days.
He plopped down in the chair. I slipped on my sunglasses and handed Nikos the frappé I’d made him before coming up here.
“Thanks, Anastasia.” He sipped and let out a light moan of satisfaction.
A cold gust brushed past, smelling faintly of pears poached in wine and something … metallic. Despite the bright morning sun lending warmth, I pushed deeper into my wrought-iron chair.
“You’re not in a chatty mood today.” Nikos leaned toward me. “Should I go?”
God, I’d spent the previous two minutes chewing my neon-pink straw. “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”
“Is the distraction’s name Nestor?”
At that moment, I would’ve preferred thinking about the overdue bills to my boyfriend. My cheeks flamed at the memory of the botched proposal. “Yeah, it’s the first time we’ve been apart for so long,” I lied. “But it’s...”
“If you say ‘complicated’, I’m throwing myself off the balcony.”
“It’s only one floor you know,” I said, ruffling his brown hair.
I bit back a grumble. Nikos wouldn’t get it. Shop owners smiled to my face, then crossed themselves the moment I turned away—something they never did with him. Of course Lifnos felt like his home. To me, home was Athens. In the capital, no one cared that I was a Turkish witch.
Turning to the water, I sucked in a breath. A flock of seagulls circled over Kiknos Bay in a perfect spiral, performing like the Bolshoi. They moved as one, no wing out of sync. I blinked, and every single bird plummeted toward the water at once and vanished beneath the surface.
I waited for them to come back up.
They didn’t.
I looked at Nikos, but he was focused on me, not the water.
My yiayia would’ve called it a bad omen, but I knew better than to believe in that mumbo jumbo. Real life didn’t come with proper foreshadowing like a well-structured novel. God, I missed my job.
“Okay, spill. You’re too quiet even for you.” Nikos’ eyes brimmed with curiosity.
“It’s hard to smile when I’ve only been running the taverna for a week and I can’t worry Dad.”
He squeezed my arm. “You know Agistri inside and out. You’ve got this.”
I nodded and tucked a lock of hair that had escaped behind my ear. He didn't know the half of it. Dad knew about the money problems — and hadn't breathed a word to me.
My gaze drifted to the bay stretching out below the balcony. A sleek white yacht appeared from behind the hill, slicing through the waves. Two blondes danced on deck. How I envied their carefreeness.
He stirred the frappé with his straw. “Anyway, don’t think you’re the only one with a difficult work life.”
Wait, was that a gray cloud hovering just above the yacht? I squinted. Or was the sun’s glare making me see things?
Nikos huffed. “You’re not even listening.”
“What? I am. You have a difficult work life.”
When I looked back, the yacht was gone, leaving behind blue, too-calm waters.
“My boss keeps putting me down. Just because I crack jokes doesn’t mean I’m not dedicated. I have layers, you know.”
“Of course you do.” I matched his hurt tone.
Nikos raked his fingers through his hair. “How will I grow if Tsuros won’t give me a chance?”
I wished I could help him. What if he helped me though? He could write a promotional piece for the taverna. It might boost traffic.
Nikos jumped up. “Ugh, my mom’s texting, ‘ERRANDS NOW’.”
“Wait.” I grabbed his elbow.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I have a suggestion for an article,” I said slowly.
He gasped. “You’ll give me a behind-the-scenes of the publishing world? No, wait! Does Nestor have inside information about the forensic pathologists’ scandal?”
“Never mind,” I muttered and went to get up.
Nikos kept me seated. “Nonsense. Spill!”
“I need some publicity for Agistri. Can you write a feature?” I said, staring at my hands against my green shorts.
Seconds of silence ticked by. Below, cats yowled by the dumpster, and my unease grew. I should’ve kept quiet instead of putting him in an awkward position. If anyone knew what it felt like to compromise their job for someone else’s, it was me.
He cupped my hand. “Well, it’s not my dream article. And it’ll make Tsuros think I’m happy writing fluff.” He paused. “Is the taverna in trouble?”
I felt like I was sitting on nails. “We’ll recover eventually. But I’d sleep better with a publicity boost to help until Dad takes over again.”
“If it means saving the taverna, then I don’t care if he thinks it’s fluff.”
I glanced up. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Thank you for this, Nikos.” This article was my lifejacket.
“No thanks needed. You’re family.” His green eyes glazed over. “It’s going to be The Iliad of puff pieces.”
Oh, no. Before I could rein in his intentions of making Agistri out to have three Michelin stars, he checked his phone and winced. “Okay, I’m off. When I get a chance, I’ll send you a first draft.” He kissed my temple.
The soft thud of his tennis shoes down the stairs faded, matching my slowing heartbeat.
I collapsed back in the chair. The article should’ve lifted my spirits until Monday’s holiday and the increased earnings it meant. But Nikos was all good intentions and limited reliability. And Lifniotes didn’t need more than an excuse to rake me over the coals.
His article might be one more problem at a time when problems sprouted like weeds.
#
By the time the frappé foam had thinned, I’d become restless. Ramsay had joined me on the balcony, but I could only pet the Greek shepherd dog so much. I needed something to keep my mind off Agistri. If I checked social media and caught up on what my friends and colleagues at the publishing house in Athens were up to, I would fall down a rabbit hole I couldn’t afford so close to opening time.
“Should I call Nestor?” My whispered words were whisked away by the wind.
Before I made up my mind, something glinted just behind the hill’s edge. I shot upright. The yacht was back, but still going in the same direction. Like an invader looking for the best place to attack, it was circling the island.
Nice one, Anastasia. Restlessness was making me melodramatic—and curious. This time I could almost make out its name: POV something. The two blondes in bikinis were still partying and…
My breath caught. A gray cloud hovered above the vessel, as if it was too heavy to fly up in the sky. I hadn’t imagined it. Blinking quickly didn’t clear away the image. But what I was seeing wasn’t possible!
Ramsay got up and barked toward the bay.
“Do you see it too, boy?”
He barked once more and ran around the small balcony. The sea breeze, carrying salt and diesel, only deepened my unease. I shook my head. Ramsay had probably chased a bee around.
The stubborn shadow thickened like it could sense my doubts. The air around the vessel seemed to vibrate, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. My breaths came fast and hard like a club beat. Sunstroke or sleep deprivation was making me see things.
With every intention of leaving, I rose. Yet my legs wouldn’t move. Whatever this was, I needed to get proof—for myself, for the authorities, for someone. The phone was in my hand before I finished the thought. When I pointed it at the vessel, my mouth went dry.
No cloud.
No shadow.
Nothing.
I changed angles, zoomed in and out, snapped a picture. Just blue water and white hull. Staring at the photograph I took of a normal yacht, I felt like an Instagrammer desperate for posts.
There was but one witness to the unnatural mass: me. The rest of the bay showed nothing to explain the phenomenon. Mr. Mihalis’ fishing boat bobbed in the distance like any other day. Umbrellas were already appearing along the beach.
My phone pinged, the sound slicing through my turmoil. It was just an Instagram comedic reel, but its music sparked a memory of a historical movie featuring a dark-haired heroine who came from a family of women with visions. The ability had labeled them outcasts.
I took a few steps forward. The metal balcony rail dug into my palms as I wobbled like jelly. I knew well how that played out.
“Good morning, Stasa. How are you?” Dad’s girlfriend gave me a friendly smile as she watered the geraniums on her balcony.
Clenching my fist, I fought telling her not to call me that—only family and close friends could.
All the manners Mom drilled into me had me stepping closer. As an added bonus, the yacht wasn’t in my line of sight. “Good morning, Ms. Eva. I’m well, and you?”
“Eh. We’re getting older.”
My smile slipped. She was Mom’s age. I’d give anything for my mom to be here even if her back ached.
“How’s your dad? Last night, he mentioned his hip was worse. I told him to call the doctor, but you know your father.” She chuckled. “So I called him myself.”
Jealousy sharpened the bitter aftertaste of coffee. Eva cared about my father, but it felt like she was pushing me out of my own family.
“He’s better today,” I lied. He hadn’t mentioned anything to me.
Laughter and voices had me glancing over my shoulder. The cloud had changed color, taking a silvery hue that might be less ominous but made it creepier.
“Oh, he is? Good,” she said.
Music grew louder. It warped strangely, distorting into something almost like words, and compelled me to turn.
“Do you see that?” I asked, pointing at the bay.
She squinted. “Oh, the yacht? It’s been happening more with the new marina they built. Your dad had warned this would happen, but people hope it’ll drum up business.”
I opened my mouth to explain what I saw—Eva was Mom’s best friend and she practiced Greek coffee fortune-telling—but instinct stopped me. “Right.”
All it would take was one villager passing by, and they’d start whispering about tea leaves and messages from the beyond. Nothing could save Agistri then. And friend or no friend, I wasn’t sure if I could trust her not spreading rumors or telling Dad.
“Well, I better get going. Goodbye.” Her balcony door slid shut muffling my response.
The yacht sped onward, the silvery mass keeping pace as if tethered by an invisible string–a balloon that shouldn’t be near living things. Maybe—
“Anastasia! Come down here a moment.” Dad’s voice boomed from downstairs.
Things I couldn’t logically explain were in my top three pet peeves, but the taverna, the finances, Dad—those were real.
Ramsay obeyed immediately and raced into the house and down the stairs.
“It can’t wait,” he said as if I was habitually tardy.
“Coming, Baba.”
I picked up the two coffee glasses and went inside. As I passed in front of the vanity, though, my feet slowed. The vessel’s distorted music swelled. Before I could stop myself, I turned for one last look.
The melody crackled. Beneath it I made out a threadbare ‘Help me’.
My hands tightened around the glasses. I’d dreaded the moment when the unexplainable would happen, something that would prove the rumors about my family true. If I tried to help the yacht people, I might do more harm than good in the end. No, my responsibility was to Dad. I rushed to the stairs and didn’t look back.
Return to sender, universe. You’ve got the wrong person. I might break if I had to help one more person—even if it was life or death.