*****
*****
 |
| Medea Killing Her Sons |
He was a giant of a man, dressed in a heavy cloak over knee-high leather boots. His face was a mask of exaggerated cruelty. He stalked the marble platform, threatening a poor woman, dressed in simple robes and sandals. She wore a frozen look of deep, deep sorrow.
The man was Creon and he was bellowing: "Hark
thee, Medea, I bid thee take those sullen looks and angry thoughts against thy
husband forth from this land in exile, and with thee take both thy children and
that without delay, for I am judge in this sentence, and I will not return unto
my house till I banish thee beyond the borders of the land."
The woman turned her sad mask up at Lucky and Donna,
wailing, "Ah, me! now is utter destruction come upon me, unhappy that I
am! For my enemies are bearing down on me full sail, nor have I any
landing-place to come at in my trouble. Yet for all my wretched plight I will
ask thee, Creon, wherefore dost thou drive me from the land?"
The audience hissed at Creon for being such a cruel
bastard and Donna gripped Lucky’s hand harder, hissing along with them. He
couldn’t help smiling, more in relief than humor.
Despite Donna’s casual assurances that Lucky could
ask her out, he’d run into a roadblock with Donna’s mother who thought she was
too young to start dating. Lucky got around this by ditching the circus idea
and saying that he was planning a cultural outing – an educational experience
suggested by his teacher for an essay he’d been assigned.
This was untrue, but Lucky was thinking as fast he
could under difficult circumstances. While he waited for the dreaded question
to fall about the subject of the essay, he pummeled his brains for an answer
that would fit the motherhood bill. Then he remembered the outdoor theater Jim had
taken him to some weeks before. They staged ancient Greek plays there during
the day and showed films on a portable screen at night – sort of like a
drive-in, except without cars. Everyone sat on stone benches that circled the
arena, which dated back a thousand years or more. Jim had shown Lucky a
playbill just the other day. But for the life of him he couldn’t remember
exactly-
"What is the essay about, young man?"
Donna’s mother asked, letting the other boot thud. "And exactly what is
this cultural event you have in mind?"
"Euripides, Mrs. Kelly," Lucky blurted.
"I’m supposed to write an essay about Euripides. You know, the old Greek
playwright."
"I certainly do know who Euripides is,"
Mrs. Kelly sniffed.
Lucky blushed. "Sure, of course you do. But anyway,
they’re putting on one of his plays – ‘Medea’ – at the old amphitheater just
out of town. They wear all the old costumes and masks and everything. It’s very
authentic."
Mrs. Kelly frowned, mollified a little, but still
suspicious. "That’s certainly a worthy event," she said,
"However, I don’t like our Donna out late at night and I’m afraid-"
"Oh, but it’s not at night, Mrs. Kelly,"
Lucky interjected. The plays are usually staged in the daytime, just like the
old days." He grinned. "Of course, in ancient times Donna wouldn’t
have been able to attend at any hour, because women weren’t allowed in the
audience."
"So I’ve heard," Mrs. Kelly said with a
friendly smile. She was warming to Lucky now. She turned to Donna, "Very
well, then. But I want you to use the embassy driver so I can sure you’re being
looked after."
"Oh, mother!" Donna complained, but not too
vehemently.
Although it was only a partial victory, it was a
victory just the same and could be used to construct a solid, but
every-expanding foundation for future dating rights. However, Lucky wasn’t so
certain that idea of seeing actors tottering about in masks speaking what to
Donna would be unintelligible Greek would be that thrilling for young lady he
was trying to impress. He figured she’d get a headache halfway through the
performance.
But once again Jim came to his rescue. The teacher
pointed out that on select Sunday afternoons special performances were held for
students who were studying English. Meaning, the entire play would be in
English, while the students followed the words and action in books written in
their own language. In a way it was a bit like Lucky’s experience with reading
the "The Tempest" while listening to it.
Lucky raced to the theater after school and bought
tickets. Only then did it occur to him that the day he’d chosen might be
inconvenient for Donna. He sweated all the way home – disdaining buses or taxis
and taking all the short cuts he knew to Pallouriotissa. The moment he entered
the house he ran to phone, pausing only to signal a brief hello to Brosina
while he dialed and his heart raced as one of the Kelly household maids
answered – in English, of course. The Kelly’s were important embassy people.
Even so, he asked the woman in Greek if he could speak to "Miss Donna."
He drummed his fingers on the table, glanced up and
saw that Brosina was watching him. She had an odd smile on her face. Then he
heard Donna’s voice and he automatically smiled his best smile – as if she
could see him. And he told her about getting the tickets.
"I feel really stupid," he said. "I
should have asked you first if that day was okay, but… well… you know…"
His voice trailed off. And now he really felt stupid. "You know?"
For crying out loud. What was she supposed to know? How could she know? She wasn’t
a bloody mind reader like Mr. Dunninger, the famous TV mentalist.
"Wait a minute, Lucky," Donna said.
"Let me ask."
She put the phone down. Lucky could hear distant
voices – Donna’s and he thought, her mother’s. But he couldn’t make out what
the reply was. He waited, biting his nails, sighing every once in awhile.
Finally, Donna returned. "It’s okay," Donna
said. "She said it’s okay."
They talked for a minute more, not really saying
anything. Just whispers and giggles. Then Donna had to go and they rang off.
As he put down the phone, his eyes came up to meet
Brosina’s. Deaf as she was, she had no doubt about what was going on. She
smiled that goofy smile of hers – a grin that curved up in that big horsy face
until the whole of her was alight with smiles. She crossed her work-worn hands
over her white-uniformed breast.
"Ahg-ah-pee!" she croaked.
"Ah-gah-pee!"
Meaning love – true love in Brosina speak. Then she
made Lucky sit down and she fetched him an orange squash and some olives and
roasted pepper slices and strong cheese, and made him tell her all about Donna.
It was an elaborate conversation and quite deep. They used gestures,
accompanied by Greek words that were drawn out in Brosina speak so she could
read his lips. Sometimes she put three fingers to his throat and made rolling
motions with her free hand, urging him to speak faster, sensing what he was
saying through sheer touch.
When he was done she hugged him, then sat back in her
chair. She looked long and hard at him. Then she took his chin in both hands
and made him peer into her eyes.
"Po-na-ee," she said. Which meant hurt.
"Po-na-ee, Oh-hee. Po-na-ee, oh-hee." Which meant don’t hurt.
Lucky raised his brows and shrugged. Who would he
hurt?
"Athee-na," Brosina said. "Po-na-ee,
Athee-na."
Lucky was stunned. She was saying that he had hurt
Athena and was warning him about doing the same to Donna.
"No, no," he said. "I didn’t."
Then, realizing he’d slipped into English, he started again. That it was
Yorgo’s fault they weren’t together. But Brosina put a finger to his lips
shushing him. She had that fiercely stubborn look that said she was not to be
contradicted.
"Po-na-ee, oh-hee," she said.
"Po-na-ee, oh-hee."
Lucky promised, not sure what he was promising – but
in the back of his mind there was a definite protest. He’d done nothing wrong.
The fault was Yorgo’s, not Lucky’s. Wasn’t it?
Now, as he sat with Donna in the amphitheater, he
thought of Athena and was guilt stricken. As if he were somehow cheating on
Athena by being here with Donna – even though Yorgo had forbidden Athena to see
him any more. He struggled with this for awhile, but was gradually won over by
the play and Donna’s sheer delight at the proceedings.
She whispered, "If they switched masks, nobody
would know when they were lying. Then it’d be just like all the people at the
embassy."
Lucky laughed. He knew what she meant. The embassy
was notorious for its back-fighters and bald-faced liars. Of course, as an old
OSS hand, her father probably had little trouble dealing with them.
Lucky turned his attention back to the play. As he
watched deeper understanding dawned. Jim always said that there were moments of
sudden clarity when a light bulb bloomed into life like the naked bulb hanging
from the ceiling wire in Jim’s apartment.
And that was the light that was snapped on as the
"Medea’s" tragic tale of betrayal and murder unfolded. It seemed to
him that his whole young life had been plagued by a series of betrayals. He
thought of the reoccurring nightmare that he’d suffered for years of someone
trying to drown him. And now he knew – that someone was his father.
His heart started beating faster as strange memories
swam up: looking up through water closing over his face; he couldn’t breath…
knowing if he did he’d suck in water; his father being jerked away; his
grandmother snatching him out of the water… pounding his back, shrieking
something… and suddenly he was vomiting up water… and then - after what seemed
a literal, agonizing, eternity - he could breathe again.
Lucky gasped at the memory. Grabbing the breath that
his grandmother had driven into him when she beat upon his back.
Donna misunderstood, squeezing his hand in romantic
empathy. Thinking he was reacting to the scene they were viewing.
Overcome, Lucky squeezed back, leaning over to nuzzle
her neck, trying to wipe out his unpleasant reverie. She giggled and leaned
closer and her sweet scent soothed him and he settled back, tingling all over,
forgetting everything. Rejoining the play.
From the response of the audience, the play was a
resounding success. As the actors emoted many of the audience members consulted
books – ten-penny knockoffs on sale at the entrance. Lucky learned later that
only one or two of the actors were fluent English speakers. But they had
learned their lines phonetically, so they could shout, or weep, or lecture
profoundly in an alien language. Of course, they were all ardent students of
the plays they staged and the characters they portrayed, so the language
barrier was pierced by common understanding and artistic passion.
The play was made even more alive because of the
enthusiastic way the audience responded. Donna included
She and the audience cheered, hissed and booed and
wept as if the "Medea" was a modern radio soap opera. And perhaps it
was in a way. Hadn’t Jim told him that all stories, be they tragedies, comedies
or dramas – were based on the plays of men like Euripides? Men who lived twenty
five hundred years ago. As famous and skilled a playwright as Eugene O’Neil had
patterned the landmark "Desire Under The Elms" after the tragedy of
‘Medea.’
‘Medea,’ Jim had explained, was basically a sequel to
the story of Jason and the Argonauts. Medea was the princess who helped him
retrieve the golden fleece, risking her life and honor and even killing her own
brother in the process. The first story had a somewhat happy ending – Jason got
the fleece, completing his task. He married Medea, then assumed the throne upon
his return home.
But the play showed that in truth there was never a
"happily ever after" ending to such a tale. Hated by the Greeks
because she is a foreigner, Medea, languishes away and is eventually betrayed
by Jason, who is under intense pressure from his subjects to rid himself of the
foreign witch woman. In the end, Medea even kills her own children, believing
in her madness that she is saving them from a far more bitter end.
When the play was over everyone applauded with great
gusto and they all filed out chattering about what they had seen – moving past
stone benches worn from countless audiences who had been enthralled by plays
like this for hundreds upon hundreds of years.
It was late afternoon and there still time for a
snack before Donna had to be home. Lucky directed the limo driver to Metaxa
Square – a vast park in the center of Nicosia. He took Donna to an outdoor café
he favored that overlooked the park. There, you could sit high above the street
and enjoy a plate of delicious appetizers in the shade of colorful umbrellas.
Before they climbed the steps to the café, Lucky leaned in for a quiet word
with the driver. He passed him a few shillings and was rewarded with a wide
grin and a wink. Then, as Lucky and Donna made their way to a corner table, the
driver started up the car and drove away.
Donna looked puzzled. "Where did he go?"
Lucky smiled, saying, "There’s a little taverna
around the corner that’s a favorite of a lot of the cabbies. I said it was okay
with us if he wanted to visit his friends for an hour or so."
Donna laughed. "If mother finds out she’ll be
furious," she said. "He was supposed to be my protection."
Lucky snorted. "From what?" he said
scornfully. "Nobody would dream of bothering an American girl in Cyprus.
One shout and every guy on the street would come running to string the son of
gun up."
Donna gave him a sly look. "Maybe she meant him
to protect me from you. I mean, I’m pretty sure I saw you give him some
money."
Lucky blushed scarlet and started to stutter a
defense. But Donna took pity and put a hand on his, silencing him. "I’m
only teasing," she said.
Food and drink soon arrived and they began eating,
watching the strolling families in the park. Small groups of musicians moved
along the pathways, playing for tips. Young couples held hands as they walked
through the bright gardens, occasionally ducking out of sight into one of the
wooded glens that dotted the park.
Donna and Lucky talked about plays and films and
books and the whole time Lucky drank in the presence that was Donna Kelly. She was
bright and witty and he loved the way she tossed her shiny dark hair away from
her blue, blue eyes. And her complexion was so creamy that he thought she must
have been concocted from a fabulously shaped mold of vanilla pudding.
He was so distracted by her Irish beauty that it
became increasingly difficult to pay attention to what was actually being
discussed.
Perhaps Donna sensed this, because she suddenly said
something that gave him jolt: "There are some people who warned me to
watch out for you," she said, an amused glint in her eye.
Lucky gave her a look – was she teasing again?
"Who? Who?" Then, thinking he sounded like an owl, he said, "Who
said that?"
"You know," Donna said. "David Sisco
and his friends."
Lucky wasn’t surprised. "What do they say about
me?"
"That you’ve gone wild," Donna said.
"That you run all over the island without any supervision. And that all
your friends are Cypriots."
She lowered her eyes. "They said you have a
Cypriot girl," she almost whispered.
"Well, sure, I did," Lucky said. "But
not anymore."
"What happened?" Donna pressed.
Lucky shrugged, shortcutting the explanation to
something he hoped was acceptable: "Her family thought she was too young
to be dating."
"I know that tune," Donna said ruefully.
Then, "Was it serious? I mean between the two of you."
Lucky didn’t know how to answer that question without
digging himself a pit from which he could never emerge. So he said,
"Whenever we went out – to the cinema or someplace like that – her
grandmother went with us as a chaperone. Boy, was she strict. We were never
alone except for maybe a few minutes. And that wasn’t so wonderful."
Thinking he might have taken this too far, Lucky
hastily added, "But her grandmother was really nice. After I got used to
the idea, I didn’t mind her being there."
He attempted a joke. "It was sort of like dating
two girls at once, except one of them had loose dentures that clattered when
she talked too fast."
It worked. Weak as the joke was, Donna broke into
peals of laughter. Lucky brightened. This day was improving by mountain goat
leaps.
Then Donna said, "Okay, so you don’t the deny
the girlfriend – or former girlfriend, am I right?" Lucky nodded, thinking
that there was nothing to truly deny because at that very moment Athena had
become very former. "But what about the running wild part. It’s a serious
charge, isn’t it?"
Lucky said, "I have a lot of freedom, that’s
true. But I get good grades and I don’t get into any trouble. I’m not saying
I’m an angel, but I don’t bring trouble home. I settle it on the spot. Also, my
parents trust me and they want me to learn as much as I can from the experience
of living abroad."
His parents had never said anything like that, but as
the words came to his lips, Lucky instinctively knew it was true. "That’s
why they found Jim Demetrakis for me," he said. "They wanted me to
have a first class education – the kind they could never afford to give me in
the States."
"What about all of those Cypriot friends, David
was talking about?" Donna asked.
Getting defensive, Lucky bristled. "Sure I have
a lot of Cypriot pals. What’s wrong with that?"
Then he realized that Donna was only asking, not
condemning.
More quietly, he said, "They’re good people, the
Cypriots. Loyal as they can be. And really generous, even though most of them
are pretty poor. I’m proud that they call me friend, which in Greek is feelos,
by the way."
Donna nodded, repeating, "Feelos."
"That’s for a boy," Lucky went on. "A
friend who is a girl, is a feelee."
Once again, Donna repeated the word – feelee –
committing it to memory. Then she asked, "What about your teacher? What’s
his story?"
"It’s pretty impressive," Lucky said.
"Jim was a poor kid – an orphan. But he was so smart the whole village
raised enough money to send him away to the university in Athens. Now, he’s
also a successful businessman. A friend of the mayor’s. And a negotiator
between the young Cypriot businessmen and British officials."
Donna gave him a closer look. "What did you say
his name was?"
Lucky said, "Jim Demetrakis." Then, feeling
a little alarmed, he asked, "Why, have you heard of him?"
Donna shook her head. "No, but I’ll keep my ears
open," she said.
They decided to join the couples in the park. It was
getting a little late – in a half-an-hour the daylight date would be overcome
by dark – so Lucky left Donna at the table, while he strode around the corner
to find the limo driver. In the taverna, Lucky explained that he was concerned
about a mechanical problem in the embassy limo. A sputtering in the engine, he
said, and he suggested a diagnosis of fouled plugs. A malady that would take
about an hour, perhaps a bit more, to remedy.
A pound note – about four dollars American –
convinced the driver that Lucky’s diagnosis was quite correct. This was,
indeed, a problem. A minor one that would be easily solved. And yes, for an
additional pack of Camel cigarettes he would be pleased to call the house, and
explain the problem to the butler. The man rubbed finger across thumb and Lucky
slipped him another pound note. The driver said the butler would be pleased
with Lucky’s generosity and consider him a gentleman. He – the butler - would
surely inform Mrs. Kelly that her daughter would be ever so slightly delayed
through no fault of Lucky’s. A minor inconvenience, and yes, the girl would be
perfectly safe and sure to be back before Mr. Kelly arrived home for his
evening martini.
And so Lucky and Donna joined the other young couples
strolling through the park. It was dusk and lamplighters were climbing their
ladders to fire up the gas-light poles that illuminated the park. Donna thought
it was archaic – gas lights in the second half of the Twentieth Century. But,
Lucky pointed out that in Philadelphia there were still neighborhoods that had
so recently converted from gas to electricity that they still kept the old
lamplighters on the job. The men carried their ladders down the street every
night so they could wash and polish the glass covers and replace burned out
bulbs.
"I guess we’re all still stuck between the
centuries," Lucky said. "My dad says that America and the rest of the
West is still stuck between the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries. The ideas
we call modern, he says, are all from the past. Now, here we are in Cyprus,
where things from thousands of years ago exist side by side with the modern
world."
Donna nodded. "Like the camels and ox carts in
the streets and the play we just saw. All old stuff. And the cars and the
radios and the news about hydrogen bombs exploding, all new stuff." She
turned to Lucky. "But how new is it? In a way, the first person who forged
an iron sword was making an atom bomb, wasn’t he?"
They paused by one those ubiquitous groves of trees
so favored by the strolling lovers they’d seen. Lucky stared into Donna’s eyes,
overcome with emotion, but afraid to say anything that would break the spell.
Donna gave him a coy smile. Looked this way and that
in an exaggerated fashion. "As far as I know," she said, "my
grandmother is still back in Boston."
Benumbed, Lucky didn’t get it at first.
"Boston?" he asked stupidly. "You’re from Boston?"
Donna sighed. "What does a girl have to do to
get kissed around here?"
Lucky finally got it and drew her into the convenient
grove where they kissed to their hearts’ content. On the way home, the driver
rolled up the window separating the driver’s compartment from the back of the
car and contentedly puffed on his Camel cigarettes. Lucky was now one his
closest friends and – within reason – he’d make things easy for the couple. He
took a long, curving route, that gave them time to kiss and cuddle.
Just before they reached Donna’s house, she suddenly
pushed his hands away and sat up straight. Lucky, thinking he’d gone too far,
sat up as well, mumbling an automatic, "Sorry."
But Donna wasn’t concerned about his roaming hands. Straightening
her clothing, she made that very plain when she spoke. "You have to do
something about David Sisco," she said. "He’s spreading vicious lies
and if he keeps it up my parents will hear it and we won’t be able to see each
other."
Lucky sighed. He said, "I can’t just beat him
up. It would only make things worse."
Donna nodded agreement. She gestured, as if making
headlines with her hands: "Wild boy attacks peace loving son of embassy
official."
Lucky smiled, then thought about David Sisco and the smile
turned into a frown. "I’ll think of something," he said.
"I hope so," Donna said. "I really
do."
NEXT: OF HEROES, NEW QUEENS & SWEET REVENGE
*****
LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!
Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide:
Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
- "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
- "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus.
- "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****
NEW: THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION OF
THE HATE PARALLAX
THE HATE PARALLAX: What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. Narrated by John Hough. Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan
After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.
BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization.
*****
Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Also: NOOK BOOK. Plus ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS.
TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!
 |
Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
|
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.
No comments:
Post a Comment