Chapter 2 Chapter 1

2001, Braca After the cable was untied, the rope flew up in the air, and the water droplets on the rope splashed on the woman's bare arm.The sun was hot and the sky was cloudless, and soon the drops of water dried up.Alexis noticed that the salt crystals on her skin shone in intricate patterns, like diamond tattoos.She was the only passenger on the dilapidated boat, and as the boat started its motor and chugs away from the pier toward the lonely island ahead, she shuddered as she thought of the men and women who had gone there before her. up. Spinalonga.She played with the word, rolling it in her mouth like an olive pit.The island lay ahead, and the mighty Venetian fortress looked out to sea.As the boat approached, she felt both the strong pull of the fortress in its past and the irresistibility of its present.This place, she mused, had a warm past, not a stone-cold one, and its inhabitants had once been real, not mythical.How different it was from all the ancient palaces and ruins she had visited in the past weeks, months, and even years.

Alexis could have spent another day climbing up to the ruins of Knossos, looking at the chunky little fragments, and thinking about what life was like four thousand years ago.However, recently, she began to feel that this past was too far away, far beyond her imagination, and of course beyond her concern.Although she has a degree in archeology and works in museums, she feels interest in the subject is fading by the day.Her father, Marcus Fielding, was a university teacher and loved his major. Growing up, Alexis naively believed that she would follow in her father's footsteps.For a man like Marcus Fielding, ancient civilizations, no matter how old, always intrigued him.But for Alexis, now twenty-five, the young bull she encountered on the road earlier that day was more realistic and relevant to her life than the legendary Minotaur at the center of the Cretan labyrinth. Closer.

Her career direction, for now, is not the most pressing issue in her life.Even more pressing is the dilemma she faces in getting along with Ed.They've been basking in the late-summer sunshine during their holiday on the Greek island, where it's warm every day, but their once-promising romance is slowly drawing to a close.Their relationship bloomed in the ivory tower like the university, but it withered in the big world outside.For three years the love affair, like a cutting from a greenhouse, could not survive in a roadside flower bed. Ed is handsome.This is a fact, not someone's opinion.But sometimes it was his good looks that bothered her so much, and she was convinced it aggravated his arrogance, his enviable self-confidence.Their coming together was, in a sense, the result of "opposites attract": Alexis was fair, with dark hair and eyes, and Ed, blond and almost Aryan.At times, however, she felt her unruly nature filtered through Ed's demands for discipline and order, which she knew was not what she wanted; even the smallest impulse of her desire resented him.

Some of his other qualities were beginning to drive her mad, too, though the world would consider them valuable assets.The first is that unshakable self-confidence.This confidence is indestructible, and comes from the certainty of life that has been set before him since the moment he was born, and will always be set before him.Ed has a lifelong stable job in a law firm, and the years have paved a step-by-step promotion route in front of him, and he can imagine where he will sit in the future.The only thing Alexis was sure of was that they were growing increasingly discordant.As the holiday wore on, she often thought about her future, but Ed wasn't in it at all.Even their daily routines don't fit together.Like always squeezing toothpaste from the wrong end.And it was always her fault, not Ed's.He hated her looseness, he wanted everything to be in order, which was his consistent attitude towards life, but Alexis thought it was a kind of annoying controlling desire.He wanted to be tidy, and she tried to pay attention, but his silent criticism of the little messes in her life still annoyed her.She often felt at home only in her father's dark, cluttered study, and her parents' bedroom, with its gray wall paint and uncluttered exterior of her mother's choice, made her shudder.

It's all about Ed.He was the darling of life: year after year, effortless, always at the top of his class, the unchallenged champion, the perfect top student.If his bubble bursts, everyone will be heartbroken.He had grown up thinking the world was his stage, but Alexis had come to understand that she wasn't in it.Was she really going to give up her independence to live with him, even though the answer was obvious?A run-down rented bungalow in Crouch End, or a nice flat in Kensington—was she crazy to refuse the latter?Even though Ed wanted her to move in with him in the fall, she still had a lot of questions to ask herself: What was the point of living with him if they weren't planning to get married?Anyway, does she want to marry him and have children?These uncertainties had been swirling in her mind for weeks, if not months.Sooner or later she will have to boldly do something about it.Ed kept saying that he was in charge of all the affairs of the vacation.He didn't seem to notice that Alexis' silence was getting longer by the day.

This trip is completely different from the previous trips around the Greek islands in her student days.Back then, with a large group of free-spirited friends, she never planned anything in advance and decided on a whim how to pass the long sunny days: which bar to go to, which beach to bask in.No matter which island you go to, or how long you stay, it all depends on the toss of a twenty-drachma coin.It's hard to believe life was so carefree.But this trip is full of quarrels, conflicts, self-doubts; long before she sets foot on Crete, the battles begin. How could I be twenty-five years old, and the future is still so hopeless and uncertain?she asked herself as she packed her bags.Here I am, living in an apartment that doesn't belong to me, have a job I don't like, and am going on vacation with a man I barely care about.What's wrong with me?

Alexis' mother, Sophia, had been married for several years and had two children at her age.What environment made her so refined at such a young age?How was it that at the same age, when Alexis still felt like a child, she just settled in like this?If Alexis knew more about how her mother handled her life, it might be able to help her make her own decisions. But Sophia has always been very guarded about her origins.Over the years, her secret has become a barrier between herself and her daughter.Alexis finds it ironic that her family actively encourages her to study and learn about the past, but forbids her to peer into the truth of her own origin; shadow.Sophia Fielding, it seemed, had not only buried her roots, but trampled the dirt upon them.

Alexis had only one clue about her mother's past: a faded wedding photo that had stood on Sophia's bedside table for as long as Alexis could remember, its decorative silver frame being wiped down several times. became thinner afterwards.When Alexis was very young, when she used her parents' lumpy bed as a trampoline, the slightly rigid couple in the photo were smiling and bouncing up and down in front of her.Sometimes she would ask her mother questions about the beautiful lady in the lace dress and the sharp-featured, gray-haired man beside her: What were their names?Why is his hair gray?where are they nowSofia's answer was surprisingly simple: they were her aunt Maria and uncle Nicholas, who lived in Crete and are now deceased.This information had satisfied Alexis then—but now she wanted to know more.Above all it was the status of the picture--the only one in the house besides that of her and her brother Nick--that piqued her interest even more.The couple clearly meant a lot to their mother as a child, yet Sophia always seemed reluctant to talk about them.In fact, it was more than reluctance, it was a stubborn refusal!As Alexis entered adolescence, she learned to respect her mother's desire for privacy—it was a bit like her teenage instinct to close herself off and not communicate with others. passed that stage.

The night before she went on vacation, she returned to her parents' house.This is a Victorian town house on a quiet Battersea Street.Whenever Alexis and Nick started college or went on vacation abroad, the family would go out for a quick meal at a local Greek restaurant.But this time, Alexis came back with another purpose.She wanted her mother's advice on Ed, and, just as important, she was going to ask her a few questions about her past.Arriving more than an hour early, Alexis decided to try and get her mother to open up, just to let some light shine through. Alexis entered the house, took off her heavy rucksack, threw it on the tiled floor, and dropped the keys into the dull brass tray on the hall shelf.The key fell into the tray with a loud clang.Alexis knew that the mother hated nothing more than being shocked.

"Hi, Mom!" she called into the silent hallway. Thinking that her mother might be upstairs, Alexis walked up the stairs two steps at a time and walked into her parents' room.The excessive tidiness in the room surprised her as usual.A small string of beads hung from the corner of the mirror, and three bottles of perfume stood neatly on Sofia's dressing table.Besides, there was no clutter in the room.There were no clues about Sophia's personality or past, not a single picture on the wall, not a single book beside the bed, just the framed picture next to it.Although Marcus shared the room with Sophia, it was Sophia's world, and Sophia's desire for tidiness ruled here.Each member of the family has his own world and is very different from each other.

If the sparseness and simplicity of the master room made it Sophia's world, Marcus's world was the study, where books piled up from the floor, these overweight towers sometimes toppled over, and books scattered throughout the room ; the only way to get to the desk is by using a large leather-bound tome as a stepping stone.Marcus enjoyed working in this temple of crumbling books; it reminded him of archaeological excavations where every stone is so carefully marked that, even to the uninitiated, it is nothing more than a thousand stones. Like discarded gravel.The room was always so warm that even as a child Alexis would slip in and read, curling up in the soft leather chair.For some reason, the leather chair was the coziest, most comfortable chair in the whole house, even though the stuffing kept leaking out. Alexis and her brother have been away from home for a long time, but their room is still intact.Her room was still the rather depressing purple she had picked out herself when she was a gloomy fifteen.The sheets, the rug, the wardrobe were all in a matching fuchsia, a color that was head-scratching and irritating-although Alexis thought so now, she had been obsessively fond of it then.Maybe one day the parents will find time to repaint it, but in a family that doesn't place much emphasis on interior design and soft furnishings, it might be another decade.The color of the walls in Nick’s room was no longer her concern—the walls were plastered with posters of Arsenal players, heavy metal bands, and blond girls with monstrously large breasts, not an inch of them to be seen.The living room was the shared space between Alexis and Nick, who must have spent a million and one million hours over the past twenty years watching television in semi-darkness.But the kitchen is everyone's.A 1970s pine round table—the first piece of furniture Sofia and Marcus bought together—is the centerpiece of the family, where everyone sits around and chats, plays games, eats, and, arguably, argues with each other. Discord often rages here, too, but this is home. "Hi!" said Sophia, greeting her daughter in the mirror.As she combed her hair, which was dyed blond, she rummaged through a small jewelry box. "I'm almost ready," she added, pinning the coral earrings that matched her top. Alexis had never known how nervous and terrified Sofia was when preparing for these kinds of family gatherings.This moment reminded her of those nights before her daughter's college start, she pretended to be happy, but in fact her daughter's departure made her miserable.It seems that the stronger the emotion that needs to be suppressed, the more she can hide it.Sophia looked at her daughter's figure in the mirror and her own face beside her, and was startled.It wasn't the face of a girl in her mind, it was an adult's face, with questioning eyes staring intently at hers. "Hello, Mom," said Alexis quietly. "When is Dad coming back?" "Soon, I believe. He knows you have to get up early tomorrow and promised not to be late." Alexis picked up the familiar photo and took a deep breath.Even in her twenties, she still felt it took courage to force herself into the forbidden zone her mother had experienced, as if she were bending over to slip under the cordon of a crime scene.She needs to know what her mother thinks.Sophia was married before she was twenty, so couldn't she, Alexis, start a family earlier as well, would she be foolish enough to pass up the chance to marry someone like Ed?Maybe her mother might think the same as her, maybe she has such considerations now, so it means that he is really not a suitable candidate?She rehearses her questions internally.How could my mother be so sure at such a young age that the person she was going to marry would be the "right" one?How could she know that she would be happy in the next fifty, sixty, or even seventy years?Maybe she didn't think about it at all?Just when all the questions were about to be blurted out, she hesitated, suddenly afraid of being rejected.However, there was still one question she had to ask. "Can I..." Alexis asks, "Can I go and see where you grew up?" In addition to her Christian name, which speaks to her Greek roots, Alexis has inherited her mother's dark eyes , that is her external sign.That night, her eyes were fully functioning, and they locked on to her mother, watching her for a long time. "We were planning to go to Crete at the end of our holiday and go all the way to Greece and it would be a pity if we missed this opportunity." Sophia is a woman who has a hard time smiling. She rarely shows her emotions and is even harder to hug.Reticence is her natural state, and her first reaction at this moment is to find an excuse to refuse.What stopped her, though, was what Marcus kept repeating to her: Alexis would always be their daughter, but not always the child she remembered.Even if Sophia tried hard to resist the idea, she knew it was true, especially when she saw the independent young woman in front of her.Therefore, Sophia is not like she used to keep her mouth shut every time this topic was brought up. This time, her reaction was unexpectedly warm. For the first time, she admitted that her daughter wanted to know more about her past. This kind of curiosity is not only natural , or even a right. "Yes..." She hesitated, "I think you can." Alexis desperately suppressed her surprise, not even daring to express herself, lest her mother change her mind. Then Sophia said more firmly: "Yes, this is a good chance. I will write you a letter and take it to Fotini Davalas. She knows my family well and must be very old now. She Lived all my life in the village where I was born, married to the owner of a local restaurant - so you can even have a nice meal there." Alexis beamed with excitement. "Thanks, Ma... where the hell is that village?" she added, "near Hariya?" "It's east of Heraklion, two hours' drive from Heraklion," Sophia said, "so maybe four or five hours from Harial—quite a long way for a day's trip. Your father I'll be back any minute, and I'll write Fotini after supper to show you where Plaka is on the map." There was a reckless bang at the front door as Marcus returned from the university library.His battered leather briefcase stood in the middle of the doorway, bulging, with papers protruding from its cracks.He was a bespectacled bear with silver-gray hair and probably weighed as much as his wife and daughter combined.Alexis ran down from her mother's room—it had been since she was three—and down the last flight of stairs into Marcus's arms.Marcus laughed. "Daddy!" Alexis called simply. "My pretty girl!" he said, pulling her into his arms, the warm and comfortable embrace that only such a big father could have. Soon they set off for the restaurant, which was only a five-minute walk away.Nestled among a row of swanky bars, overpriced French bakeries and funky fusion restaurants, Lucakis has been a constant for years.It opened shortly after the Fieldings bought the house, and has since seen more than a hundred shops and restaurants open and close.The owner of the restaurant, Gregorio, welcomed the three of them in like old friends.They are regular customers, and he knows what they will order before he even sits down.As before, they listened politely to the special recommendations of the day, and then Gregorio pointed to the three of them and recited in turn: "The appetizers of the day-eggplant millefeuille, onion and tomato stew, deep-fried Octopus, a bottle of gin and a large bottle of sparkling water." They nodded.Gregorio made them all laugh as he turned to leave, pretending to dislike them for rejecting the chef's latest order. Alexis (ordered the eggplant mille-feuille) talked the most.She details the trip with Ed, and Marcus (who ordered the fried octopus) occasionally chimes in to suggest archaeological sites they could visit. "But Dad," Alexis murmured hopelessly, "you know Ed isn't interested in those ruins at all." "I know, I know," he answered patiently, "but only a Philistine would go to Crete and not see Knossos, like going to Paris without molesting the Louvre. That's Ed You should understand that too." They all knew that Ed had a knack for turning a blind eye to anything that had even a hint of high culture.As usual, there was always a tinge of disdain in Marcus' tone whenever Ed came up in conversation.It's not that he doesn't like him, and it's not that he doesn't agree with him to associate with his daughter.Ed was exactly the kind of son-in-law Marcus wanted, but he couldn't help but be a little disappointed to think that this well-born boy would be his daughter's future.Sophia, on the contrary, liked Ed very much.He was exactly what she was looking for in her daughter: respected, affirmed, with a family connection that gave him the kind of self-assurance that only people associated with the British aristocracy (although those connections were thousands of miles away) ). It's a relaxing night.The three of them haven't seen each other for months.Alexis has a lot to ask, not just about Nick's love life.Alexis' younger brother, a postgraduate student in Manchester, is in no rush to grow up and has always surprised his family with his complicated emotional life. Alexis and her father began exchanging anecdotes from work, and Sofia found her thoughts flashing back to the first time they visited the restaurant, asking Gregorio to add a stack of cushions, Alexis Just enough to reach the dining table.After Nick was born, the restaurant paid for high chairs, and the kids fell in love with the tangy flavors of mashed Greek roe salad and tzatziki served to them in small plates by the waiters.For about two decades, almost every major event in their lives has been celebrated here, with the same Greek pop tape playing in the background on a constant loop in the room.Alexis was no longer a child, and Sofia was so touched that she began to think about Plaka and the letter she was about to write later.She had corresponded frequently with Fotini over the years, and twenty-five years ago she had written to tell Fotini of the birth of her first child; Sofia dressed her in the dress for her christening, missing only the traditional cord.The two women had ceased correspondence by letter not long ago, but Sophia was sure that if anything happened to Fotini, her husband would tell her.What would Plaka look like now, Sophia wondered, a small village full of rowdy pubs selling English beer?She tried not to imagine the scene.She wished Alexis had seen Plaka the same way she had left it. As the night wore on, Alexis grew more and more excited to finally dig deeper into her family's history.She knew that for all the tension she would face on vacation, visiting her mother's birthplace was something she looked forward to.Alexis and Sophia smiled at each other, and Marcus thought, were his days as peacemaker between mother and daughter over?The thought of having the two women he loves most in the world by his side makes him feel very warm. After eating, they politely drank half a bottle of free plum wine and went home.Alexis wanted to sleep in her old room tonight, longing for a few hours in her childhood bed before waking up early in the morning to take the Tube to Heathrow.Although she couldn't get any advice from her mother, she was very satisfied.With her mother's full cooperation, she was about to visit her mother's birthplace, which seemed even more important at the moment.For a moment, Alexis put aside her anxieties about the more distant future. After returning from the dining room, Alexis made coffee for her mother, while Sofia sat at the kitchen table and wrote Fotini, throwing away three letters before finally putting them in envelopes.She pushed the letter across the table and placed it in front of Alexis.The whole process was very quiet, and Sophia was completely immersed in it.Alexis thought that if she spoke now, she might disturb the atmosphere, and her mother might change her mind. For two and a half weeks, Sophia's letter has been in the secure inner pocket of Alexis's backpack, and she holds it as dear as her passport.In fact, it was a passport in itself, her passport to her mother's past.It followed her on a ferry from Athens to Paros and Santorini. Along the way, the ferry was surrounded by clouds and mist, bumped from time to time in the wind and rain, and finally arrived in Crete.Alexis and Ed arrived a few days early and rented a house in Haria facing the sea—easy to rent this season, when most of the tourists had left. These are the last few days of the holiday, Ed reluctantly visited Knossos Palace and other archaeological museums in Heraklion, now just want to spend these last days on the beach and then go back to Piraeus , that would take a long boat ride.Alexis, however, had other plans. "I'm going to see an old friend of my mom's tomorrow," she announced as they sat in the portside restaurant waiting for their order. "She lives on the other side of Heraklion, so I'll be leaving Most of the day." This was the first time Alexis had mentioned her shrine to Ed, and she braced for his reaction. "That's great!" he blurted out, and then said bitterly, "You probably know how to drive?" "Yes, if it's all right, I'll drive. It's about a hundred and fifty miles from here. If I take the local bus, it'll take a few days." "Well, I guess I have no choice, do I? Of course I don't want to go with you." Ed's sapphire eyes glared at her angrily, and he buried his head behind the menu.He remained sullen for the rest of the evening.Since she had provoked it, Alexis refrained.What was even harder to accept was that he had no interest in her plans.He didn't even ask the name of the person she was going to see--which he almost always did. The next morning, not long after the sun rose and shone on the hill, she crawled out of bed and left the hotel. When she looked up Plaka in a guidebook, she was struck by something: her mother never mentioned that there was a small island across the sea from the village.Although this entry in the manual is very small and easy to be missed, it still fills her imagination: It seemed that Plaka existed primarily as a supply center for the leprosy colony, which amused Alexis because her mother never mentioned it.She gets into her rented Fiat 500, wishing she had time to visit the island.Spreading out a map of Crete on the empty passenger seat next to her, she noticed for the first time that the island was shaped like a lazy animal lying on its back. She traveled east through Heraklion, along the flat and straight coastal road, through the overdeveloped lands of Hersonissos and Malia.Occasionally, she'd see brown signs showing some ancient relic nestled incongruously among the cluttered hotels.Alexis ignored any such signs.Today, her destination is not a thriving settlement of the twentieth century BC, but a village after the twentieth century AD. After passing miles of olive groves, the land on the coastal plain becomes flatter, and the plantations are filled with red tomatoes and ripe grapes.Finally, she pulled off the main road for the last leg of her journey to Plaka.From here, the road narrowed, and she had to drive slowly and carefully, avoiding the piles of stones that rolled down the mountain and piled up in the middle of the road. From time to time, a goat walked slowly in front of her, passing by When it does, it will stare at you with those evil, close-set eyes.After a while, the road started to steepen, and after a sharp U-bend, she pulled over the curb, her car tires crackling on the gravel.Below the blinding blue waters of Mirabello Bay, she could see the natural harbor curved almost like a circle, and just where the arms met, there seemed to be a small piece of land that looked like a round hillock .From a distance, the land appeared to be connected to the mainland, but in fact, from her map, she knew that it was Spinalonga, and that the island could be reached only across the middle of the sea.The surrounding terrain makes it dwarfed, but the island prides itself on its water.The ruins of a Venetian fortress are still clearly visible, and at the other end of the island, behind it, somewhat vaguely but still distinctly, a series of criss-cross lines, these are its streets.And here it is: an empty island.It has been inhabited for thousands of years, but for some reason it was abandoned less than fifty years ago. Alexis drove the last few miles to Plaka, rolling down all the windows of her cheap rental car to let in the warm sea breeze and the scent of thyme.It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and she finally parked the creaking car in the silent village square.She was holding the hard plastic steering wheel with both hands, sweating profusely, and the sweat was shining brightly.She discovered that her left arm had been sunburned from the afternoon sun.It was scary to be in a Greek village at this time.The dogs lay dead in the shadows, and the cats scavenged for leftovers.There were no other signs of life, just vague signs that people had been here not so long ago—an empty moped parked against a tree, a half-pack of cigarettes on a bench, a game of backgammon spread out beside it.The cicadas sang non-stop, and they would not stop until the evening cools down.The small village is probably the same as it was when her mother left it in the 1970s.It has no reason to change. Alexis plans to go to Spinalonga before finding Fotini Davalas.She loves this total freedom and independence.It seemed impolite to travel by boat once the old woman had been found.Apparently, Alexis had to get back to Hariya that night, but now she was enjoying the afternoon, calling Ed and finding a place to settle down. Alexis decided to do what the tourist brochure said. (“In the taverns in the small fishing village of Plaka, for a few thousand drachmas, there’s usually a fisherman willing to take you across.”) She crossed the square with purpose and pushed past the sticky front door of the village tavern. Gooey, colorful plastic streamers.These grimy plastic strips, supposed to keep flies out and keep the tavern cool, actually do nothing more than collect dust and keep the tavern permanently dark.Alexis watched for a long time in the dimness, before she saw a woman sitting vaguely at a table, and she groped towards it.The figure stood up and moved behind the bar.Because of the dust all the way, Alexis's voice is hoarse until now. "Nero, parakalo." She said hesitantly. The woman moved her hand past the large glass jugs full of olives and the half-empty bottles of crisp, full-bodied anisette, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out some chilled mineral water.Then he carefully poured water into a tall straight glass, stuck a thick slice of lemon on the rim, and handed it to Alexis.Finally, she wiped her wet hands from holding the ice bottle on the flowered apron, which was so big that it fit around her thick waist.She opened her mouth to speak. "British?" she asked. Alexis nodded, after all, she was half right.She expressed her next wish in just one word. "Spinalonga?" she said. The woman turned around and disappeared through the little door behind the bar.Alexis heard her call under her breath: "Gerasimo! Gera Seymour!" Soon there was the sound of footsteps on the plank stairs.An elderly man, woken up from a nap, squinted his eyes, and came out.The woman spoke to him hurriedly and vaguely, and the only word Alexis could understand was "drachma," which was repeated several times.Apparently, he's been told with certainty that there's a lot of money to be made these days.The man stood there, squinting his eyes, listening to the series of instructions without saying a word. The woman turned to Alexis, grabbed the menu from the bar, jotted down a few numbers and drew a picture.Even if Alexis could speak Greek fluently, it would not be as clear as this.Through a lot of pointing and drawing in the air, plus various marks on paper, she deduced that the round-trip journey and the two-hour stay on the island would cost a total of 20,000 drachmas, about thirty-five pounds.This trip is not cheap, but she will never allow her to bargain.Besides, she was now more determined than ever to visit the island.She nodded and smiled at the boatman, who smiled back solemnly at her.She suddenly realized that the silence of the boatman was not as simple as she had imagined at first.Even if he wanted to talk he couldn't - he was mute. They soon came to the docks where Gera Seymour's old boat lay, and they walked silently past sleeping dogs and closed houses without disturbing anything.The only thing I heard was the cry of cicadas and the slap of their rubber soles as they walked on the road, and the sea was calm. Well, now she is crossing the 500-meter sea area with a man who has no expression other than an occasional smile.He has the wrinkled face of all the fishermen on Crete who have spent decades at sea in storms, battling storms at night and mending nets in the blazing sun by day.He may be in his sixties, but if wrinkles can be used to calculate age like oak tree rings, he is roughly eighty.Nothing can be seen from his appearance.There is no pain, no suffering, and no particular pleasure.They are just close-ups of a quiet, resigned old age, reflections of everything he's been through in the last century.Although the tourists were the latest invaders in Crete, after the Venetians, the Turks, and, in his lifetime, the Germans, they rarely learned Greek.Alexis blamed herself now for not letting her mother teach her useful words—Sophia spoke Greek fluently, but Alexis had never heard her mumble a word in it.Now, when he helped her on deck—the only polite "efharisto" she could say to the boatman—"thank you," he returned the favor by touching the brim of his battered straw hat. Now that the boat was approaching Spinalonga, Alexis packed up her camera and the two liters of water in a plastic bottle that the woman in the tavern had forced on her, telling her to drink plenty of water.When the boat hit the jetty old Geracimo reached out and pulled her over the wooden seat and onto the uneven ground of the abandoned pier.她这才发现引擎还在转动。看起来，老人并不打算在此停留。他们设法交流，原来两小时后他会再回来。阿丽克西斯看着他慢慢掉转船头，朝着布拉卡方向回去了。 阿丽克西斯现在给搁在斯皮纳龙格。一阵恐惧袭上心来，要是杰拉西摩忘了她怎么办？要过多久埃德才会来找她？她能游过这片海域返回大陆吗？她从未如此彻底孤独过，除了睡觉，很少离另一个人几米距离，从未与他人失去联系一个小时以上。她的依赖心突然像个沉重的负担。她决心要鼓起勇气愉快地度过这段独处时光——这难得的与世隔绝的几个小时，与斯皮纳龙格居民终生孤独的判决相比，简直不值一提。 威尼斯要塞巨大的石头墙，赫然耸立在她面前。如何才能进入这固若金汤的堡垒呢？就在此时，她发现墙的圆边上，有一个小小的入口，大概就和她的个头那么高。那是整个灰色石头墙上一个小小的、阴暗的开口。凑近看，才发现是长长地道的入口。地道蜿蜒曲折、挡住视线，看不到尽头。身后是大海、前面是高墙，只有这条路可走——向前走入黑暗、幽闭的地道中。大概走了几米，当她从半黑暗中再次出现在午后耀眼的阳光下时，周围的一切全不同了。她停下脚步，呆住。 阿丽克西斯站在长街低处，街两边全是矮矮的两层楼房。这有点像克里特的村庄，可是这些建筑毁坏到半废弃状态。窗户的合页全坏了，窗框七扭八歪地挂在那里，百叶窗在海风的微微吹拂下抽动着，吱吱作响。她犹豫着走下满是灰尘的街道，吸收看到的一切信息：右边是有着坚固雕花大门的教堂，还有一栋房子，根据它的落地窗架来判断，这里显然曾是一个商店。有些庄严的带木制阳台的独立房子，有着拱形门廊和围起来的花园。深深的、怪异的寂静笼罩四下。 房子楼下的房间里，一丛丛野花争奇斗艳，楼上，桂足香从灰泥墙的缝隙里偷偷张望。许多房屋的门牌号码还清晰可辨，退了色的数字：11、18、29，阿丽克西斯想到每扇这样的正门后曾有真实的生命在此生活过。她继续信步走着，被这一切迷住了，好像梦游一般。这不是梦，然而，里面确有某种完全虚幻的东西。 她走过一所房子——以前那一定是家小饭馆。走过一座更大的大厅，还有一幢房子——有成排的水泥水池，她断定那曾是洗衣房。在它们边上立着一座丑陋的三层大楼，有着实用的镂花铸铁阳台栏杆。这座房子的规模与其他房屋相比很是奇怪，一想到这是七十年前的人建造的，且定是当时最时髦的，就觉着奇怪。现在它巨大的窗户像张大的嘴，迎着海风，电线从天花板上吊下来，像一簇簇纠结的意大利面条。它几乎是所有房屋中最悲伤的一幢。 阿丽克西斯出了小镇，走上一条杂草丛生的小路，顺着这条路来到远离一切文明的地方。这是个天然海岬，只要纵身一跳，就能跳入下面几百英尺的大海。她让自己想象麻风病人的痛苦，在绝望的时候，他们可能来到这里沉思，想要彻底了断。阿丽克西斯凝望前方曲折的海岸线。直到现在，她一直被周遭的环境吸引，完全沉浸于这种浓厚的氛围之中，关于自己处境的种种念头完全消失无踪。她是整个岛上唯一的人，这让她面对一个事实：孤单并不意味着孤独。即使你身处人群里，却可能非常孤独。这个想法给了她勇气，回去后她可能会独自开始下一阶段的新生活。 沿着自己的足迹回到寂静的小镇，阿丽克西斯坐在石头门槛上休息了一会儿，吞了几大口随身带的水。屋里腐朽的地板铺满枯叶，除了偶有蜥蜴仓促爬过，一切沉寂不动。从对面弃置房屋的间隙里，她看到了大海，以及大海那边的大陆。每天麻风病人肯定隔海望着布拉卡，看得到那边的每幢房子、每一艘船——也许连人们在那里做着的日常琐事也看得清。她只能试着想象，这么近的距离，麻风病人一定心痒痒急着想回去。 这小镇的墙能讲述什么样的故事呢？它们一定见证了大苦难。不用说，麻风病人，站在这块岩石上，肯定感觉自己像生活打出的一张最差的牌。然而，阿丽克西斯已多次依据考古碎片作过推断，从这些地方残留的东西中，她看得出这里居民的生活情形一定不仅仅只是痛苦和绝望的，而是更加复杂。如果他们的存在完全只是卑贱，这里为什么还会有饭馆？为什么还有一幢只可能是市镇厅的建筑呢？她感到忧伤，可是她也看到正常的迹象。正是那些令她吃惊。这座小小的岛屿是个小社会，而不只是个等死的地方——从那些废弃的房屋便可看出。 time flies.阿丽克西斯瞟了一眼手表，已经五点钟了。太阳还很高，还是那么炎热，她完全没了时间概念。她一跃而起，心也怦怦直跳。虽然她很享受这儿的寂静与安宁，但不希望杰拉西摩把她扔在这里。她赶紧从长长的黑暗地道中走出来，来到外面码头上。老渔夫正坐在船上等着，阿丽克西斯一现身，他就扭动钥匙，发动马达。显然，若无必要他绝不想在此耽搁。 回布拉卡很快，几分钟就到了。阿丽克西斯看到之前的那家酒馆，租来的车停在对面，看着让人熟悉安慰，她心里舒了口气。现在村子开始有点活力了。门廊外女人们站着聊天，酒馆周围的空地里，男人们聚在树下打牌，他们吞云吐雾，空中烟雾弥漫。她习惯了和杰拉西摩沉默地一路走回酒馆，那个女人迎着他们，阿丽克西斯断定她是杰拉西摩的妻子。阿丽克西斯数出一把脏兮兮的钞票，递给她。“你想喝一杯吗？”女人用蹩脚的英语问。阿丽克西斯才发现她不仅需要喝上一杯，更需要吃点东西。她一整天没吃东西了，炎热与海上航行让她现在觉得很难受。 想起母亲的朋友在当地开着一家餐馆，阿丽克西斯立即在背包里翻找那个皱巴巴的信封，里面是索菲娅的信。她把地址给那女人看，那女人立即认出，她拽着她的胳膊，带她出了酒馆，来到街上。顺着这条路，朝着大海往下走约五十米，有个小型桥墩伸向海中，这便是那家餐馆。刷成蓝色的椅子，靓蓝、纯白相间的方格桌布，有如一片绿洲召唤着阿丽克西斯。餐馆老板出来迎接她，老板与餐馆同名，都叫斯蒂法诺斯，阿丽克西斯知道她会很快乐地坐在那里看太阳下山。 与阿丽克西斯遇到的每位小饭馆老板一样，斯蒂法诺斯唇上留着厚厚的、修剪有型的胡须。然而，与大部分小饭馆老板不同的是，他看起来吃得没他做的多。现在时间还早，当地人还没来吃饭，所以阿丽克西斯独自坐在一张临海的桌前。 “佛提妮·达瓦拉斯今天在这里吗？”阿丽克西斯试探性地问道，“我母亲在这里长大时，认识她，我有封信要交给她。” 斯蒂法诺斯的英语要比酒馆里那对夫妇的好得多，他温和地回答说他妻子确实在这里，她准备完今天的菜后，就会出来看她。同时，他建议给她拿些当地精华特产，这样她就不必费心看菜单了。阿丽克西斯手持一大杯冰镇松香酒，面前桌上摆着的粗粮面包，她的辘辘饥肠立刻得到满足。她只觉得一阵畅快掠过全身。这一天的孤独让她快乐，此刻她又品尝到自由与独立。她看向对岸的斯皮纳龙格。自由可不是任何一个麻风病人曾经享受得到的，她想，可是他们有没有却因此而获得别的什么呢？ 斯蒂法诺斯搂着一堆白色小碟回来了，每个小碟里都盛满了厨房里刚做好的新鲜美食——大虾、油炸酿节瓜花、酸奶黄瓜、迷你奶酪派。阿丽克西斯觉得自己从没这样饥肠辘辘过，也从没见过这般美味的食物。 斯蒂法诺斯走到阿丽克西斯桌前，看到她凝视着前方的岛屿。这个只身一人的英国女子让他生起了兴趣。杰拉西摩的妻子阿德里娅拉说过，这女子一个人在斯皮纳龙格待了整整一个下午。在炎热的夏季，每天只有几艘船的游客到对岸去——可大部分人最多只能在那儿待上半小时，然后就由大巴运到海岸线其他大景点去了。大多数人只有残忍的好奇，如果他们在布拉卡停下来吃顿饭，斯蒂法诺斯有时能听到他们谈话的片言只语，得知他们对游览这个岛觉得很失望。他们想看的似乎不止是几间被遗弃的房屋和用木板钉起来的教堂。他们想看什么？他总想上前一问。corpse?扔弃的拐杖？他们的冷漠总让他怒火直冒。可是这个女子跟他们不一样。 “你怎么看这个岛？”他问。 “它让我很吃惊。”她回答说，“我本以为它会让人十分忧伤——实际上它也真让我忧郁——可除此之外，它还有很多东西。显然，生活在那里的人并不是坐在那里自怨自艾。至少我是这样看的。” 这可不是去斯皮纳龙格的游客常有的反应，这个年轻女子在那里花的时间显然比他们要多得多。阿丽克西斯很高兴有人可以说说话，而斯蒂法诺斯总是热衷练习他的英语，他不打算扫她的兴。 “我真不知道我为什么会这么想——可我这样想对不对？”她问。 “我能坐下吗？”斯蒂法诺斯问道。没等她回答，他就拖了把椅子过来，坐下了。他凭直觉感到这个女子体会到了斯皮纳龙格的神奇魅力。“我妻子有个朋友曾经生活在那里，”他说，“她是这周围仅有的几个还与这个岛有关联的人之一。其他人一旦治愈后，都尽可能远离这里。当然，杰拉西摩除外。” “杰拉西摩……得过麻风病？”阿丽克西斯问道，惊呆了。怪不得他把她一放下就急急地走了。她的好奇心完全给吊起来了，“你妻子，她去过那个岛吗？” “去过许多、许多次。”斯蒂法诺斯回答说，“她是这周围最了解那个岛的人。” 现在，陆续有客人来吃饭了，斯蒂法诺斯从柳条椅上起身，领客人们到桌前坐下，递上菜单。现在太阳落到地平线下，天空成了绛红色，天气一下就凉了。燕子俯冲而下，向虫子直扑过去，捉住它们。时间仿佛过了几个世纪。阿丽克西斯吃光了斯蒂法诺斯摆在她面前的所有东西，她还是觉得很饿。 就在她想着要不要进厨房，再找点什么吃时（在克里特岛，顾客常常这样做），她的主菜到了。 “这是今天刚打捞上来的，”女招待放下一个鱼形大浅盘，“胭脂鱼。在英国，我想，你们叫它红鲣。希望你喜欢我做的——撒上香草、抹点橄榄油后在烧烤架上烤的。” 阿丽克西斯很惊奇。不仅因为烹调得如此精美的菜肴，也不仅因为这个女人柔和、几乎没有口音的英语。最让人吃惊的是她的美丽。阿丽克西斯在想是什么样的脸才能发动千艘战舰呢。一定就是这样的容颜。 “谢谢你，”末了阿丽克西斯说，“看上去很棒。” 这个梦一般的女人准备转身离去，可又站住了，说：“我丈夫说你在找我。” 阿丽克西斯吃惊地抬起头。母亲告诉过她，佛提妮已经七十多了，可这个女人这样苗条，脸上几乎没有皱纹，头发高高盘在头顶，还是深栗色的。她怎会是她一直想着要见的那个女人？ “你不是……佛提妮·达瓦拉斯？”她站了起来，不太确定地说。 “我就是她。”女人温和但肯定地说。 “我有封信要给你，”阿丽克西斯说，回过神来，“是我妈妈写的，她叫索菲娅·菲尔丁。” 佛提妮·达瓦拉斯的脸庞顿时亮了。“你是索菲娅的女儿！我的天，太棒了！”她说，“她还好吗？她还好吗？” 佛提妮异常兴奋地接过阿丽克西斯递给她的信，紧紧捂在胸口，好像索菲娅本人就在面前一样。“我太开心了。自从她姨妈前几年去世后，我就没有她的消息了。那以前，她总是每个月都写信给我，后来就停了。我最后几封信她也没回，让我很担心。” 这一切阿丽克西斯听都没听过。她从没想过母亲过去会这样频繁地往克里特岛写信，当然更不知道她收到过信。多奇怪啊，这么多年来，阿丽克西斯从没见过盖着克里特岛邮戳的信。她觉得如果有，她肯定会记得，因为她总是起得很早，门垫上的信总是她来收拾。看来母亲在竭力隐瞒这种通信。 佛提妮抱着阿丽克西斯的肩膀，一双杏眼仔细端详着她。“让我看看——是的，是的，你看起来真的有点像她，你更像可怜的安娜。” 安娜？在一切可能的场合下，她极力从母亲那里搜罗姨妈、姨父那些泛黄的信息，是他们把她抚养大的，可是她从未听说过“安娜”这个名字。 “你母亲的母亲。”佛提妮飞快加上一句，立即发现这女孩脸上困惑的表情。阿丽克西斯后脊梁一阵战栗。她站在黄昏中，身后是墨黑的大海，她被母亲的惊人秘密、被这个与之谈话的女人可能知道的某些真相吓得直往后退。 “来吧，坐下，坐下。你一定要吃点胭脂鱼。”佛提妮说。阿丽克西斯一下子没了胃口，可她想从命才有礼貌。于是，两个女人坐下了。 尽管阿丽克西斯想问所有的问题——急切地想知道答案——她还是让佛提妮先问。佛提妮的问话看起来更像盘查：你母亲怎么样？happy?你父亲是什么样的人？你为什么来克里特？ 佛提妮很热情，像那个晚上的天空一样温暖。阿丽克西斯发现自己回答她的问题时毫无保留。这个女人老得够当她的奶奶了，然而一点也不像她心中的奶奶模样。母亲交给她这封信时，她想象中的佛提妮·达瓦拉斯是位黑衣驼背的老太太，现在她的样子完全相反。她对阿丽克西斯的兴趣似乎完全出自真心。阿丽克西斯好久没有与人这样聊过天了——如果她以前曾经这样聊过的话。大学导师偶尔听她说说话，仿佛她说的真的很重要，可是她心里知道那只是因为她被付费这样做而已。没多久，阿丽克西斯就向佛提妮敞开了心扉。 “我妈妈一直对自己早年的生活守口如瓶，”她说，“我唯一真正知道的是她出生在这附近，由姨妈、姨父养大——她十八岁时离开他们，再也没回来。” “你真的就知道这些吗？”佛提妮问，“除此之外她再没告诉你别的？” “对，什么也没说。那也是我为什么来这儿的一个原因。我想多了解些。我想知道是什么让她这样想摆脱她从前的生活。” “可为什么是现在呢？”佛提妮问道。 “噢，有许多原因，”阿丽克西斯低头看着自己的盘子说，“但主要和男朋友有关。我最近才发现妈妈找到爸爸有多么幸运——我总觉得他们是模范夫妻。” “他们快乐我很高兴。当时是有点仓促，可是我们都看好他们，因为他们看起来心满意足。” “有点怪，我对母亲了解得太少。她从不谈她的童年，从不谈在这里的生活——” “哦？”佛提妮插了一句。 “我觉得，”阿丽克西斯说，“对妈妈了解越多，越能帮助我自己。她很幸运遇到了她如此在乎的人，可是她怎么知道他就永远是那个合适的人呢？我和埃德在一起有五年了，可该不该在一起，我还没有把握。” 这番陈述与通常注重实际的阿丽克西斯相比简直判若两人。她也意识到她的话听起来可能有点云里雾里，几乎不太真实，她居然对一个才认识两小时的人说这些。再说，她偏离了正题；她怎能指望这个希腊妇人——尽管她很和蔼——会对她感兴趣呢？ 这时斯蒂法诺斯过来收拾餐碟，几分钟后他端着几杯咖啡和两大杯冒着泡的蜜糖色白兰地过来。晚上这个时候，许多客人已经来了又走了，阿丽克西斯据有的这张桌子，再一次成了唯一一张有人坐的桌子。 热咖啡让阿丽克西斯感觉好多了，浓烈的迈克塔瑟酒更让她觉得温暖。她问佛提妮认识她母亲有多久了。 “实际上，打她出生第一天起我就认识她了。”老妇人回答。可是她停住不往下说，似乎觉得责任重大。她佛提妮·达瓦拉斯是谁，来告诉这个女孩她家人的过去、她母亲竭力隐瞒不让她知道的从前，佛提妮这时想起那封信，它还塞在围裙里。她把信翻出来，从隔桌上拿起刀，很快裁开信封。 读完信，佛提妮仔细折好它，装回信封。她望向阿丽克西斯，在她匆匆阅读这封揉皱的信时，阿丽克西斯一直在好奇地研究她的每一个表情。 “你母亲让我告诉你你家的一切，”佛提妮说，“可这真不是个睡前小故事。这个季节快过去了，我们餐厅星期天和星期一不开门，我有时间告诉你。你何不留下和我们住上几天？如果你愿意，我会很高兴。”佛提妮的眼睛在黑暗中闪耀着，水汪汪的。是泪水还是兴奋？阿丽克西斯分不清。 她凭直觉感到这可能是她花得最值得的一段时间。无疑，母亲的故事比参观其他博物馆在今后对她更有帮助。如果她能让自己的来历鲜活起来，何必再去查看冷冰冰的古代文明遗迹？什么也阻止不了她留下来。她只需给埃德发条短信，说自己打算在这里待上一两天。虽然她知道这太冷落他了，可她觉得这种难得的机会也能让她小小的自私说得过去。本来她就是自由的，爱做什么做什么。大海安静了片刻，墨黑平静，看上去好似屏住了呼吸。在清澈的天空中，最明亮的星座——猎户星座——被天神杀死又放置在天上的俄里翁，似乎在等待她的决定。 在自己的来历消散在微风中之前，这可能是阿丽克西斯一生中遇到的唯一机会，让她能抓住关于它的碎片。她知道对于这个邀请只有一种回应。“谢谢你。”她静静地说，疲劳突然袭来，“我很高兴留下来。”

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