Lost Paradise

Lost Paradise

As brothers, we agreed it would be nice to meet some girls. From our condo’s balcony, a diver’s splash hones my adolescent ears and I fixate on a trail of bubbles beneath the surface of the hotel pool. My chest fills with instinctive air. I descend the steps with confidence and grace.

Lying; I skipped every-other stair, thoughtless for grace, and am now fully aware that puffing one’s chest out resembles blowfish. We did make our way down to the pool.

She surfaces for air and I hold my breath. As I approach the pool’s edge, her hair darkens in greeting my shadow. Waiting to wake, I come closer. She goes under, denying herself oxygen in fleeing from man’s advance. On the other side of the pool, on cue, she arrives at the feet of her sister: an older, wingless version of the same angel. Moon faced if the moon could tan, both turn to gaze directly at us. I force a smile I hope appears sincere. 

I remember the pale blue bikini she wore with its two aqua cups traced in white, pulled tight and double-knotted behind that seamless neckline. Her bottoms were darker blue, almost royal, the thin grin of a speechless mouth telling me what I want to hear. Acorn hair traces her skull and stays above the ear, further revealing of the lines and shadows like unmapped terrain waiting to be traced.

The swimmer starts climbing from the water. Too quickly, she starts waning her body under two bleach-bright hotel towels. Such a vision! I caught a petite glimpse and I’m addicted to her; she intoxicates. I drink more of my view, this opposite attraction was like the way one can capture the entire sun on a piece of glass held in your palm. Today, all of Troy’s Helen too, is reflected before my eyes. I must remove my shirt, more blowfish.

Christiana looks down at her bag of clothes, tightens her towels, and then glances up at me while the older, Leah, removes her clothes and nods to my brother Paul. I think he said something about the pleasant view in Greece. Leah sits next to her divine sibling on a plastic patio chair and takes in the sun. Two goddesses? Zeus!  

Forgetting everything, I’m drawn into her deep brown universe: now seeing her glints of green and gray glitter and only hoping my eyes return half the astronomy. She tips her head to the side slightly, bashfully, sweetly, and offers her teeth. Consciousness knocks on hormone’s door and it appears I’ve flattered my prize in staring back at her. There was slight hesitation, cute reservation, a shyness that exposed an innocence we already knew our older siblings didn’t have anymore.

In a Southern drawl that I hope camouflages my plight, I decided to test the water.

“Hey, ya’ll mind if we swim with you? We haven’t met anyone here yet…where you girls from? You vacationing? We’re American…You sure are quiet…Do you know English? Maybe ya’ll want to go into town later with us, for dinner or something? We rented mopeds!” I ramble out.  

Christiana smiled the whole time. It was in her consistent grin that I realized she knows as much English as I do her native tongue. Leah translates a shorter version of my rant and I hope it sounds better to Christiana in Greek. I start fishing for a positive body reaction while also deciding to drop the drawl hopefully lost in Leah’s translation.

They agreed to let us swim.

I offer my hand to Christiana who leaves two towels behind. We splashed each other until we grew comfortable enough to wrap arms, mimicking the floating islands surrounding us as our legs and torsos connect beneath the surface; one iceberg absorbed by encompassing water.

I remember long gazes of silent clarity with no need for direct words. Christiana and I developed our own language during sunsets: the nuances of body and facial expressions, pointing out the surreal and subtle to each other. She even posed for an entire roll of my black and white SLR during a time one had to load film to capture a picture.

A juvenile mistake, I forgot to load the roll. I did capture two words that Christiana kept repeating to Paul, “ανόητο αγόρι” (sounds like, Ahtho Pari) which means, stupid boy. Then, continuing to clench my fist tighter, which is Greek for: Before you let me go; kiss me over and over and over.