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Elpida bounced down the stairs of the Monastiraki station and headed for the metro. The past couple days, she’d acted on impulse, completely unlike her, but she felt truer to herself than ever. It was a freeing sensation.
The interview had gone so well, Mr. Iliadis offered her the job on the spot. She accepted, of course. Best part? She could start Monday after next, so she could stretch her visit to Manolis and the twins to a whole week, or even ten days.
Maybe just a week. She’d make plans after Epimetheus left.
Her good mood soured. She had a day left with him, tops. Maybe less. How did he plan on contacting his brother? He’d said Prometheus—she still wasn’t over his name—would find him. How? There had been no place to hide a cell when she found Epimetheus.
Not her problem. He was a grown man. If he could run a company, he could arrange to meet his brother. He might have done so already, while she was at the interview.
The announcement board above her head blinked to life. Obstacle on the rails. Train to Syntagma is delayed.
Eh, she’d have to wait. Things were going so well, she could do with a tiny setback. It meant taking longer to get back to Epimetheus, but it’d be worth the wait. He’d said he’d make her his tonight. She shivered with anticipation.
The morning rush had passed, and in late September, the droves of tourists had thinned, so the platform wasn’t crowded.
She approached a guy sitting on the bench beneath the electronic sign that announced the arrival of the next train in eight minutes. “Hi. Is this seat taken?” She pointed to the empty spot to his left.
He lifted his head, and his dark hood fell back from curly blond hair she knew she’d seen before. His blue eyes were familiar too. Oh. He could be the younger brother of the policeman who’d helped Epimetheus on Saturday night. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Nope. Feel free.” His kind smile made her feel warm inside, but not the way Epimetheus’ proximity did. There was something soothing in this young man’s presence.
An instinct she couldn’t name made her reach for his hand as she settled down beside him. She wasn’t the touch-strangers kind. Well, except for Epimetheus, but he’d never felt like a stranger, even when he was naked and bursting out of the earth.
There was no time to think about Epimetheus’ deliciously wild nudity, because white light erupted behind her eyelids, as memories that weren’t hers overlapped each other in her mind.
The man next to her, a white sheet tied around his narrow hips, wrapped one arm around the waist of a gorgeous brunette. She was draped in layers of silk that matched the blue of her eyes, much darker than his, and chestnut tendrils fell loose from her elaborate updo, to cascade down to the small of her back as he pulled her flush against him. His lips were millimeters from hers, and though he didn’t kiss her, his gaze was as tangible as a caress and as erotic as the most intimate touch.
The scene changed.
“You lie; that’s what you do. You call it keeping secrets, but even that’s a lie—to yourself. I don’t know why I thought I’d be any different.” The man’s voice broke, but he recovered with a frustrated growl.
The woman was dressed in gold and turned on him with fire in her eyes. “You weren’t. You’re not,” she spat back at him. “You’re like all of them. And I trusted you. I—” She steeled her trembling jaw and turned her back to him. “No matter. We’re done. Do your part, and keep your mouth shut this time.”
The man’s eyes were filled with pain. “Don’t worry. I won’t mess with your plans ever again. As a matter of fact, you don’t even have to suffer my presence anymore. There are enough players on the board you don’t need me any longer.” But he was reaching for her, and Elpida could feel the pain twisting around his lungs and clawing up his throat.
The woman blinked away tears. “Fine.”
Once more, the light filled her vision. When she could see again, a large bed stretched out before her, and in it, in a tangle of limbs satin sheets crumpled at their feet, lay the same couple. Elpida was relieved to see they weren’t in the moment, but probably right after it, wrapped in each other’s arms, the languid heaviness of satisfaction weighing their eyelids. She still felt like a voyeur. Like she was wedged between them, enveloped in the love they radiated.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” the woman said.
Her eyes misted, and the man rubbed his nose against hers, before stealing a quick kiss. “Never. I promise.”
“I—”
Elpida snapped back into the present with a force that straightened her spine, as the sound of the approaching train reached her ears. She let go of the man’s hand and met his startled gaze. She had no clue who he and his lover were. Actors, going by their odd clothing, but she had nothing beyond that.
Who they were wasn’t important, though. The love between them wasn’t pretend. It was as true as the hurt she felt in the man’s past. The woman had hurt him, but she hadn’t had a choice, from what Elpida sensed. And she was in as much pain as he was.
Trying not to think that she acted like any crazy old lady begging for change in the street, Elpida leaned closer and said, “She truly does love you. It will all work out.” She paused, and then added, “I saw it.” Let him think she was nuts, if it’d give him even the tiniest drop of hope. Not like she’d see him again.
She stood to wait for the train to stop, and when she looked back, the man was nowhere to be seen. She’d spooked him.
Elpida laughed quietly to herself, and stepped in the carriage as soon as the doors slid open. A small, petty part of her envied the depth of feeling she sensed in the lovers whose life she’d glimpsed moments of. She wanted to feel it. With Epimetheus. No. She couldn’t. If she allowed herself to love him as fully as she yearned to, it would cost her her life.
“It was just a stupid dream,” she muttered, ignoring the glances other passengers threw her way. She headed straight for the first free seat she saw. She parked her butt in it and fished out her phone to send Stelios a thank you text, when the guy beside her turned and hurled all over her lap.
Elpida shook her head, and she was still standing, seconds away from being covered in vomit. She bypassed the seat and kept walking to the next car, where she leaned against the rail by the doors, safely out of range of the projectile. She texted Stelios, and was clicking on his reply when her stomach constricted as painfully as if she’d been punched. A sense of pure and absolute dread twisted around her chest and clenched her heart in what felt like an iron fist. Something was wrong.
Epimetheus’ face flashed in front of her eyes. He was in danger. She had to get to him now.
She burst out the doors at Syntagma square, raced to the M2 platform, and elbowed her way into the train filling up for Elliniko. The Acropoli station was the next stop, and she lived only a few blocks from there. She’d make it to him in time.
In time to... What? What could he be in danger of that she could save him from?
He’d be all right. He’d be fine. She didn’t even have a premonition—just this fear that threatened to squeeze the air out of her lungs as she ran up the stairs and all the way to her building. Thank God she’d worn loafers.
The elevator was on the ground floor, and she hopped into the waiting car and smashed her thumb onto the third-floor button. It took an eternity to reach her front door, and of course Kalliopi was there, hands on hips.
“You’re not making all that noise?” Kalliopi asked, eyes widening. “Who’s in there? Do you have a dog? You know no pets are allowed in the building.”
All that noise was crashing and smashing, and it came from inside Elpida’s apartment. “I’ve got this.” Elpida pushed her key in the lock, not bothering to answer Kalliopi’s follow-up questions, and slammed the door into her neighbor’s face before turning toward the mess that had once been her living room.
An honest-to-God whirlwind was smashing everything she owned against the walls, and in the middle of the fray stood Epimetheus, fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut, his face turned to the ceiling, the tendons in his neck bulging, as his scream was swallowed up in the hubbub. At least he had sweats on.
She let out a startled chuckle at the odd thought, but her misplaced mirth was short lived. The mental image of him, naked and thirty meters tall, climbing out of a mountain, nudged the edges of her consciousness. She refused to let it in. This wasn’t the time for flashing back to what couldn’t have possibly been a premonition. It was the time to run. Away, if she was smart.
She wasn’t smart; she was in love. And she couldn’t leave Epimetheus. She carefully picked her way around the tiles jutting up from the floor and went to him. Where she belonged.