A House Like A Lotus Part 21

"Hey," I protested, "you and Rhea don't even know Zachary. He's just like all the other kids who hang around Const.i.tution Square."

"With his father's corporation behind him? Don't be na'ive, Polly. I'm glad you had him to escort you around till we got here. I think he was good for you in many ways, but I'm just as glad you're never going to see him again."

"Wait a minute!" I said. "You saw him just that once. I spent three days with him. He's my friend." But 194.

I remembered, too, Zachary's saying that even if he expected the world to end he'd hold on to his property.

"He's complicated. Sure, he has lots of money, but there's more to him than that."

"You're willing to let Zachary Gray be complicated?"

"Of course."

"But not Max?" Sandy looked at me, a long, slow look from under those bushy blond eyebrows. I turned away from him and picked up my suitcase.

I kissed Rhea goodbye, and Sandy drove me to the airport. I was very glad he was with me. I didn't know about the airport tax of sixty drachmas, and I'd deliberately used up all my drachmas because in Cyprus I'd be using Cypriot pounds. Sandy paid the tax and then helped me get a traveler's check cashed into Cypriot money.

"Have a good time in Cyprus. Don't work too hard. Have fun."

I waved after him, and then there was a great shoving getting on the bus that whizzed across the airfield to the plane; then everybody jostled to get off, and then pushed to get up the steps to the plane-no jetway for the small plane to Larnaca. There was no attempt at queuing, and lots of people simply jammed their way into the line. A small amount of consideration was given to very old women and those with infants.

Finally I got onto the plane and into my seat, next to two Greek women. The hostess gave us landing cards to fill out, and the two women told me, with a lot of signs, that they did not know how to fill out their cards. So I did it for them. I had to put down their ages, and I was 195.

astonished to find out they were a great deal younger than they looked. The older, one of the grandmothers people made way for, was exactly Mother's age. With white hair pulled into a knot on top of her head, and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, she looked old enough to be Mother's mother. Mother's hair is still chestnut brown, and she swims a lot, and her body is strong and supple. It was a vivid contrast.

In filling out their landing cards, I learned that they lived in England and were coming home to Cyprus for a visit. They spoke only a few words of English, and they did not know how to read or write. They beamed and nodded their thanks, and then began talking together in Greek as I filled out my own landing card.

Larnaca was a comparatively small, quiet airport, though no Greek-speaking public place is really quiet. So I was grateful indeed to see a man who looked like Nehru waiting for me. He introduced himself, told me to call him Krhis, took my suitcase, and led me to a battered old Bentley. At home it would have been sn.o.bbishly chic. Here, it was just functional.

"I'm glad your plane was a few minutes late," Krhis said. "I had a flat tire on my way in. This old wagon's not going to hold up forever. It's good to have you with us, Polly. The rest of the staff is already at the Center. Virginia Porcher and I have been here for a week, both resting and planning. And now we will all-the staff-have three days together before the delegates arrive. Did you lunch on the plane?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"Was it edible?"

"More than. There was something I thought was turkey which turned out to be smoked fish and it was really good."

196.

He turned slightly and smiled at me. "You do not mind, then, eating the foods of the country you are in?"

I smiled back. "Not all Americans insist on hamburgers."

"Yes. Maxa told me you were a cosmopolitan young woman. Dear Maxa. How is she?"

I had a moment to think while he maneuvered the car around a donkey cart. If Max had not told Krhis anything was wrong, obviously she didn't want him to know.

I.

said, carefully, "She hasn't been very well this winter. That's why she's been staying at Beau Allaire."

With a loud honking, a smelly bus provided another diversion as it forced Krhis over to the side of the road and roared past. He said, "Maxa tells me you have a gift for languages." "Oh, I love languages." Now I could be freely enthusiastic. "I speak Portuguese, because we used to live in Portugal, and I speak Spanish and French and a bit of German, and Gaean, which probably won't be much use to you, but it was the language of the natives on the island off the south coast of Portugal where Daddy had his lab."

Again the slight turn, the gentle smile. "But Portuguese and Spanish will be helpful. We'll have a delegate from Angola, where many people still speak Portuguese. And another from Brazil. And two or three are from the Spanish-speaking countries of South America. However, all the delegates must have some facility with English, as it will be our common language."

He drove down a dusty road lined with tired-looking trees. It was as hot as Cowpertown in midsummer. Krhis said, "We won't see much of Larnaca today.

It's on a salt lake as well as the ocean, and suffers from having the new superimposed on the old without much thought. Luxury hotels are sprouting like mushrooms."

197 /.

What I saw of Larnaca looked rather barren. There were a few expensive-looking villas, a big oil refinery, and then we drove through several sizable villages, with low white houses surrounded by flowers and surmounted by dark panels for solar heating. We pa.s.sed several working windmills, too. An island like Cyprus has both sun and wind, and the villages were making good use of them.

"You are the oldest of several children?" Krhis asked.

"Seven," I said. "We're old-fas.h.i.+oned and unfas.h.i.+onable."

"And you help?"

"We all do."

"But, as Max pointed out, the oldest bears the brunt of the work. She is very fond of you." He paused. "It is too bad she was not able to have children of her own."

I looked down at my hands, still summer-tan. "Yes. She- she-" Did he know about the lost little baby? "She wanted children."

"And now she has you. That is good. I had hoped she might be able to come with you. She would love Osia Theola-and our varied and various delegates. She has a great gift with people, does she not?"

I murmured agreement.

"With Max there are no barriers of race or culture. Or age. You are her friend as well as her child."

I did not reply, but leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes.

The humid heat and the rhythm of the car eased my thoughts, and I was dozing when Krhis said, "We are here." I opened my eyes as we drove through gates of golden stone, and we were at the Conference Center.

198.

It was much bigger than Osias Lukas, not nestled in a cup in the hill, but perched on the side of the mountain.

We entered a great, dusty courtyard surrounded by a cloister. There was a two-story building, a tallish rectangle forming part of the wall to our right, with arched doors and windows with eyebrow-like carvings over them. Krhis drew up in front of it.

"Now that the village is becoming a resort, the monastery grounds are not as quiet as they used to be. Tourists come to see the church and the fountain house and tend to wander all over."

I sat up and looked around at the gracious arches of the cloister, with glimmers of sun on sea sparkling in the distance.

Krhis continued, "It is a delight to us that the village church is within the monastery grounds-see, just ahead of us, the tall bell tower? You will see weddings and funerals and baptisms. The village is still small enough so that its life goes on, as it has done for centuries, and we who come here for conferences are, as it were, tourist attractions for the villagers. We'll be a strange group, but Osia Theolians are friendly and welcoming. Ah, here comes Norine." His face lit up.

A young Chinese woman, tiny and delicate, came hurrying to greet us, shook my hand with a firm grip, insisted on getting my suitcase out of the trunk while I.

stood awkwardly by, towering over her.

"Norine Fong Mar, Polly O'Keefe," Krhis introduced us. "Norine is one of my colleagues in London and is a.s.sociate director of this conference."

"I am from Hong Kong," Norine said, "but lately I've spent more time in England than at home. Follow me." She set off at a rapid pace.

I hoisted the shoulder bag and followed her across the 199 /.

dusty compound, almost having to run to keep up, despite my much longer legs. We went past the church and then veered to our left, to the center of the grounds, where there was a small octagonal stone building with open, arched sides and a domed roof.

"The fountain house," Norine said. "Very old. The only new building in the Center is the Guest House, and it is in the old style and doesn't stick out like a sore thumb." We went along a narrow path with roses blooming on either side, and the air smelled of roses and salt wind. The only roses on Benne Seed Island were at Beau Allaire, and grew there because the gardener was constantly watering and tending them.

Norine headed for a long, white building with a red-tiled roof, the blinding white of the stucco walls muted by flowering vines. Bougainvillea I recognized, and oleander; but the other flowers were new to me. It was much hotter on Cyprus than it had been in Greece, and I could feel sweat trickling down my legs.

I'm used to heat; even so, it was hot.

Norine beckoned me imperiously, and I hurried to catch up. She opened a door leading to a long corridor. Over her shoulder she said, "Your roommate is from Zimbabwe. She's the youngest of the women delegates, and we thought you'd enjoy each other. But you'll have the room to yourself for these next few days."

She spoke with a crisp English accent, more fluently than Krhis, whose words came slowly, thoughtfully. She was dressed in a denim skirt and white s.h.i.+rt and exuded efficiency.

She opened the next-to-last door on the left, which led into a pleasant room with twin beds, two desks with shelves for books, and two narrow chests of drawers. It was what I imagined a college dorm would be like, except for the dim bars of light on the floor, filtering 200.

through the closed shutters, which spoke of the tropics.

Norine heaved my bag onto one of the beds, then opened the shutters. The windows were already wide open, and I followed her onto a balcony which looked across terraced gardens to the Mediterranean Sea. It was different from Greece, but equally glorious.

"You like it?"

"It's absolutely lovely!"

She beamed at me, then glanced into the room. "See, you have been sent coals to Newcastle."

Not understanding, I looked into the room and saw a vase of hothouse flowers on the desk by the window. A small white envelope was clipped to one of the stems.

I opened it and pulled out a card, and read: just so you won't forget me.

zachary.

I could feel myself blus.h.i.+ng. n.o.body had ever sent me flowers before; the ones at the King George had come from the management and didn't count. I put my face down to sniff them to hide my hot cheeks.

Norine laughed. "It seems that someone likes you. I may call you Polyhymnia?

You will call me Norine?"

"I'd love to call you Norine, but call me Polly, please, Polly with two l's."

"But Polyhymnia is a Greek name and she was one of the Muses-"

"I know, but plain Polly takes a lot less explaining."

"As you like." She sounded disappointed. "Since you are here first, you will have the choice of bed, desk, chest. You would like the window side?"

It was hardly a question. Fortunately, I would like the window side. "Thank you."

She looked down at the beds, which were unmade, showing mattresses with grey-and-white ticking. A bed pad, sheets, pillowcase, towel, facecloth, were in a neat pile in the center of each bed. "It will be very helpful, 201 /.

Polly, if you will make the beds. Most of the delegates will have been traveling for many hours and will be very tired."

I can't say that making beds is my favorite job in the world, but I'm certainly used to it. I've done it often enough at home, particularly before the little kids were old enough to do their own. "Of course, I'll be glad to," I said.

Norine handed me a key on a leather thong. "This is the master key. We keep the rooms locked, because sometimes the tourists come snooping around, not realizing that this is a dormitory. They are not dangerous, only a nuisance, particularly those who go in for topless bathing. It upsets the villagers." I nodded. "If you are tired, don't try to make all the beds this afternoon. Just a few. You can finish tomorrow, or the next day. We are sorry it is so unseasonably hot.

This heat wave began today. We hope it will break before the delegates arrive."

She pulled open a desk drawer, and there was a box of matches and a mosquito coil.

Norine started to explain, but I told her that I knew all about mosquito coils.

Even with screens everywhere, the little kids are constantly running in and out, so we have to use mosquito coils a lot.

"Okeydokey, that is good. You can help me explain them to the delegates. This heat has brought the insects out, the night ones especially. Even with the coil, you will have to pull the shutters to at night." She snapped on a fan that was on the inner desk. "It helps a little. When you are in your room, you can leave the door open for cross-drafts. Now I go for my siesta. The staff will have a meeting at five o'clock this afternoon, before the evening meal. I will come for you to show you the way."

"Thank you."

202.

As briskly as she had come in, she left, and I could hear her clip-clopping along the tile floor of the long corridor.

I moved back to the desk with the bouquet of flowers from a florist. Even if Norine was right, and sending flowers to a flower-filled place like Osia Theola was coals to Newcastle, I was thrilled with them. I checked to see that they had enough water, and moved the vase so that they would not get the direct heat of the sun. Then I looked around the room. There was an open closet near the entrance, and on the shelf above it were grey wool blankets. I doubted that we'd need them, unless the weather changed radically. There were four wire hangers on the rod, and I was glad Max had told me to bring hangers of my own. 'You'll have plenty at the King George, but not in Osia Theola unless I'm very much mistaken.'

The sun was streaming into the room from the balcony, which ran the length of the building, with high, stucco dividers between each room for privacy. There were two folding canvas chairs leaning against the wall, and I opened one and stretched out. I looked appreciatively at the view, across terraces planted with vegetables and vines, and windmills turning in the breeze; and then my gaze traveled on to the sparkling of the sea below. It was too hot to stay out in the sun for long, so I went back into the room, sniffed the fragrance of Zachary's flowers, and then unpacked, putting my notebook on the desk nearest the window; my books on the shelf; my underclothes in one of the chests of drawers; hanging my clothes in my half of the closet, leaving the four wire hangers for my roommate from Zimbabwe.

Once I was completely unpacked, I made up the two beds in my room. Then I took the master key and went 203 into the hall, and opened the door of the room next to mine. It was stifiingly hot. I opened the windows while I made the beds. By the time I had done that room, and two others down the hall, I was dripping with sweat. I decided that in this heat four rooms, eight beds, were enough for a while. I felt suddenly very lonely, and at the same time I was grateful that I was going to have these first few days in the room by myself. I've never had a roommate. Mother says there are so many of us it's important that we each have our own room, even if it's no more than a cubicle.

I opened my notebook and started to describe the room and the view, to paint in words the Conference Center of sun-gilded stone and ancient buildings. Since the notebook was for school, I didn't mention Zachary's flowers.

I wrote about Krhis, k.u.mar Krhishna Ghose, with his gentle tan face with the long lines moving down from his eyes, and the smile that belied the sadness.

Why wouldn't he be sad? seeing his family shot and killed. He hadn't pushed me to talk on the drive from Larnaca, and the silences between us had been good silences.

I described Norine Fong Mar, from Hong Kong, tiny and bossy. Krhis wasn't bossy at all, so perhaps he needed an a.s.sistant who was. Krhis was quiet; there was no static. Norine had considerable static. She was not calm inside, like Krhis.

I.

wasn't, either.

Miss Zeloski, I thought, was going to enjoy my notebook. And if it hadn't been for Max, Miss Zeloski and I would never have become friends.

I shut the notebook. I was as hot as though I were at home. My fingers were making smudges on the paper. I went back to the balcony. There were no screens, just the long windows and the wooden shutters. I pulled the deck chair into the shade of the divider and stretched 204.