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Show stifled sob. When they got beyond the power plant David stopped and slid the four sandals from his belt, slapping them together to knock off the worst of the clotted mud. The lights of Phira were no longer ahead but around them. Their feet made new grinding sounds on the coarse chalky gravel. Square two-story stucco houses, blue and white and identical, slid one into the other on both sides of the street. This end of town was asleep. Front gates were latched, shutters closed. A small pack of dogs took their pleasure in the deserted street. Now and then David raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead or clean the scum that kept gathering at the corners of his mouth. Beside him, Darcy's small sobs gave way to sniffing. Don't touch me, she had said. All right, fine, he wouldn't touch her. He didn't want to touch her. He just wanted to get her to the goddamn boat. I don't understand why I'm leaving, she had said. Well this was one fine example of why. She gets dirty and it's my fault. All the goddamn time it's my fault. Who could live with that? At the end of the street, now lined with darkened shop fronts, he could see the cobbled square. The town square, lit up and awake. Even at this late hour there would be men there, huddled at small tables to discuss politics and paternity over tiny cups of Turkish coffee. If the Oia had arrived there would be additional things to talk about, additional tables occupied. If. David walked faster. To the square's left sat Santorini's mother church, squat and massive. To its right,the Hotel Nicolaos whose lazy waiters served |
