Plaka was always busy, but close to lunchtime the narrow streets were thronging with people, both tourists and locals. Kon took this as an excuse to walk closer to Xinran. At times he was even able to gently cup her elbow in his hand to steer her through the crowds. He hoped his palm was not too damp, but even if she noticed his clumsy gallantry she did not remark on it other than to give him a smile now and then. It was enough.
He showed her the nineteenth century grandeur of Mitropoli, the city’s cathedral, and beside it, dwarfed in stature but outranking it in age and beauty, the tiny twelfth century Byzantine church of the Panagia Gorgoepikoös. They wandered past souvenir shops selling reproductions of ancient Greek pottery, tie-dyed cotton dresses, straw hats, and concertinas of postcards whose bright colours had faded through exposure to the sunlight. A polyglot chatter surrounded them, and carried on the faint warmth of the breeze came the smell of cooked food: garlic, baked cheese, the sweet sharpness of tomatoes.
“Are you hungry?” Kon asked as they walked past a taverna.
Xinran shook her head. “Not particularly. I had a big breakfast.”
“That is the healthy way to do it,” he agreed, thinking of the scant cup of black coffee he’d gulped down at half-past seven that morning. His stomach rumbled, and he laughed to hide his embarrassment. “But maybe I am not as healthy as you.”
She hid a smile behind her hand. “Then you should eat.”
“I wouldn’t want you to have to wait for me,” Kon protested. “I know – up here there’s a bakery. Have you tried spanakopita?”
“Spanner-what?” Xinran laughed.
“Spanakopita. It’s a pie of filo pastry, filled with spinach and feta cheese, and sometimes onion and garlic, depending on where you buy it. You’ll see: it’s delicious – perfect for a snack. Come on!” Kon grabbed her hand in his enthusiasm, and they hurried together down the street.
After a brief stop for their lunch, in which Xinran had to concede that spanakopita was indeed delicious despite the pastry crumbs that clung to her t-shirt, and which Kon wanted desperately to be allowed to brush from her pert little breasts, they continued their walk.
He detoured around the place where his father’s carpet shop had once stood without mentioning it, instead drawing her attention to another church, or an Ottoman residence, or a glimpse of the Tower of the Winds.
She seemed particularly interested in the names of the streets, and so if they had some mythological or historical significance, like Kekropos, Daidalou, or Adrianou, he would explain the meaning to her. She listened to him without comment, her gaze scanning the buildings as they walked, and he wondered if she was really hearing what he was saying. Since they’d come to this part of the district, she’d seemed to withdraw into herself even more, as if her mind was elsewhere.
“And Emperor Hadrian,” Kon continued gamely, “was also famous for creating not just Hadrian’s Wall, but also Mickey Mouse.”
That got her attention. Xinran turned her head towards him, a frown creasing her brow. “What did you say? Mickey Mouse?”
He grinned. “I just wanted to know if you were listening.”
“Of course I was!” Now she looked cross. “You were telling me about the man who invented the Labyrinth, where the Minotaur was imprisoned. And then you were talking about Emperor Hadrian. You thought my mind was wandering? I paid twenty euro to listen to you talk!”
She seemed so angry that Kon felt ashamed of himself. It was a new feeling for him, and he wondered at it. Not because of her anger, but at the fact that he felt guilty for deceiving this lovely young woman. Fate had given him a wonderful gift, and he was wasting his time with her in making stupid jokes.
“Xinran, I’m sorry,” he said, holding his hands out, palm upwards. “I am a fool. I am used to getting things my own way…”
“Then it’s a surprise that you have any clients at all,” she snapped. “I thought a tour guide was supposed to accommodate the wishes of the tourist.”
“Um, yes,” Kon said, speaking slowly as he thought fast, “but also we work to a schedule. You know, we all have our favourite places that we want to share with our clients. And so I sometimes get upset if a nice client such as yourself seems not to like the tour.”
He held his breath while Xinran digested all this, and then she gave a sharp nod, accepting his explanation. “Okay. But remember this is my holiday, so I should get to choose which places I want to visit… and which parts of your talk I want to listen to or not,” she added, her cheeky smile returning.
Kon gaped at her in comic exaggeration. “You are saying I am boring?”
She giggled, her hand to her mouth again.
He puffed himself up, thumping a fist against his chest. “We Greek men have our pride! I am the best tour guide in Athens, and now you say my words are boring – such a thing is not to be borne!”
Xinran gave up on giggling and laughed out loud. “You are very good,” she admitted, when he’d stopped posturing and they walked on together. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“You could come out for dinner with me tonight,” Kon said before he thought about it, and then he gave himself a mental kick when he saw her reaction.
Her smile became polite as she said, “That’s kind of you, but no, thank you.”
They fell silent for a while, until Kon said, “I didn’t mean it. Well, I did; but… it was genuine. I like you.”
She gave him a startled glance and then lowered her gaze. “I’m not used to this. That’s all.”
“Chinese men don’t invite you for dinner?” Now it was his turn to be surprised. “What, are they blind or something? They should be queuing up for you!”
Xinran’s smile was weak. “I just don’t have much time for dating. With my work… it’s complicated.”
“You said you were in the computing industry.”
She almost jumped, caught in the lie, but she recovered quickly. “Yes. But I work long hours and travel a lot. It’s not good for a stable relationship.”
“What about a fun relationship?”
Xinran half-smiled. “Is that what you’re looking for, Mr Antoniou?”
Kon scuffed his polished shoes against the cobblestones. “You know, first thing this morning I would have said yes. But then I met you.”
She looked at him steadily and raised her eyebrows, making no comment.
He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair before gesturing that they should take the next turn on the left. “Yeah, it sounds like a pick-up line. Not a very good one, at that. But it happens to be true. These past couple of years I’ve had many fun relationships, and that’s what they were – fun. Not serious. You might not believe me, but I did go into each relationship thinking that this woman would be The One.”
“The one for what?”
“The one to break the curse.”
“This latest collection of delightful stories from Midnight Showcase will tempt and tease you like no others. Dedicated to the Monkey and Rooster of the Chinese Horoscope, these exciting authors will introduce you to the wonderful world of legendary myths. In Softly, Softly Catchee Monkey, Ms. Lorenz paints us the picture of an independent yet lonely woman who comes across a darkly handsome man who swears that she is the true love of his. Will she continue on her mission of stealing the priceless Chinese monkey statue, or will she let her heart lead her on an entirely different mission, that of love?
[…] I found this book […] absolutely impossible to put down. With wonderful characters and story plots, all of these authors exhibit incredible story telling. Midnight Showcase definitely does not disappoint in this collection which I must recommend whenever you are in the mood for something special.”
- Jasmina, TCM Reviews.
