Chapter 17 Chapter 16

When Giorgis returns home, he finds Fotini helping Maria.They are talking.As he entered, the two looked up, knowing without further questions that meeting with the Pandorakis must be difficult.Giorgis looked paler and older than they had expected. "Didn't they show a little sympathy?" Maria asked, running to comfort her father. "Don't be angry with them, Maria. They have a lot to lose in their position." "Yes, but what did they say?" "They said they were sorry the wedding couldn't take place." Essentially, Giorgis was telling the truth.But he still has a lot to say.They never wanted to see him again, they condescended to keep Anna at home, what was the use of telling Maria that her father was no longer part of the family for them?Even if Giorgis understood the importance of dignity and name, what choice did Alexandros Van Doraki have if he felt that the Petrakis family might sully his family?

Giorgis's unsalty words almost exactly matched Maria's state of mind at the moment.The past few days have been like a dream, and these things don't seem to happen to me, but to someone else.Her father described to her Manoli's reaction to the news.She had no trouble reading between the lines: he was sad, but not heartbroken. Giorgis told the two women to pack up their things in preparation for Maria's departure.There's really nothing to tidy up.A few weeks ago she was preparing her dowry, and there were boxes standing in the corner, full of her things.Maria went through the items carefully, not wanting to take anything that Giorgis might need.Previously, she had figured that Manoli's place lacked many of the things that make a home a home, so she carefully packed many household utensils in boxes: bowls, wooden spoons, scales, scissors, and an iron.Now she can only decide what to get out of it.It didn't seem right to take her wedding presents to the leprosy colony instead of her bridal home in the olive grove, wearing those nightgowns, underwear that were given to her as a dowry on Spinalonga What's the point?She took them out one by one, these insignificant luxuries that seemed to belong to another life, just like the embroidered clothes and pillowcases she had spent so long making should not be hers.She laid these on her lap, tears dripping on the delicately handcrafted linen.Months of excitement were over, and the brutal reversal left her in agony.

"Why don't you take them?" Fotini asked, embracing her friend. "Shouldn't you be using these goodies while you're on the island? No reason." "I think, you're right, they might make life easier." She stuffed them back into the box again. "So what else do you think I should bring?" she asked bravely, as if she was about to carry out a Have a nice long trip. "Well, your father will send things over several times a week, so we can always give you what you want. But why don't you bring herbs? The island can't have everything, and the herbs will definitely be good to the people there. it works."

They spent the whole day double-checking things that might be useful.This is effective in making one temporarily forget about the dreaded parting that is to come.Fotini continued to talk to her unhurriedly until dark.Neither of them had been out all day, but now Fotini had to go.The diner needed her, and she felt that Maria and her father needed to be alone at night. "I'm not going to say goodbye," she said, "not just because it's sad, but because it's not goodbye. I'll see you again next week and the week after that." "How is that possible?" Maria asked, looking at her friend in surprise.For a moment she thought Fotini had leprosy too.That's impossible, she thought.

"I will occasionally deliver things with your father." Fotini said lightly. "But what about the baby?" "The baby isn't due until December, and even after he's born, Stephanos can take care of him when I come across to see you." "It's touching to think of you coming to see me," said Maria, with a sudden surge of courage.There are so many people on the island who haven't seen a loved one for years.She at least gets to see her dad regularly, and even her best friend. "Okay, that's it. Don't say goodbye," Fotini said bravely, "just say 'see you next time.'" She didn't hug her friend because even she was afraid of such close contact, The main concern is that it will be detrimental to the unborn child.No one, not even Fotini, dared to put aside the fear that leprosy might be contagious through the most superficial human contact.

After Fotini left, Maria was alone for the first time in days.She spent a few hours more poring over the letters her mother had written her, looking out the window at Spinalonga as she read.The island awaits her.Soon, all her questions about what a leprosy colony was like would be answered.Not for long, no.Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a hasty knock on the door.She didn't wait for anyone, and of course, no one would knock on the door so hard. It's Manoli. "Maria," he said breathlessly, as if he had run all the way, "I just want to say goodbye. I'm so sorry it's going to end like this."

He didn't reach out, let alone hug her.Nor did she have such expectations.She had wished he had acted more sadly.His behavior convinced Maria that Manoli would soon find another receiver for his passion.Her throat was tight, and she felt as if she had swallowed broken glass, and she couldn't say anything except crying.Manoli didn't look at her. "Goodbye, Maria," he murmured, "goodbye." Then he was gone, and the door closed again.Maria felt as empty as the silence that filled the room again. Giorgis has not returned yet.He spent his daughter's last free day in mundane activities, mending fishing nets, cleaning his boat, and picking up Dr. Lapakis.On his return trip with the doctor, he broke the news to the doctor.He spoke so casually that Lapakis didn't catch it at first.

"I'll be sending my daughter to Spinalonga tomorrow," Giorgis said, "as a patient." Maria occasionally accompanied her father to deliver supplies to the island, which was very common, so the last few words were blown into the wind before Dr. Lapakis could react. "We went to Dr. Kritis," added Giorgis, "and he will write to you." "Why?" Lapakis asked, paying attention now. "My daughter has leprosy." Although Lapakis tried to hide it, he was taken aback. "Your daughter? Maria? My God! I don't understand . . . No wonder you said you were bringing her to Spinalonga tomorrow."

Giorgis nodded, concentrating on steering the ship into the port of Plaka.Lapakis stepped out of the boat.He had seen the lovely Maria several times and was stunned to hear the news.He felt he had to say something. "She'll get the best care on Spinalonga," he said. "You're one of the few who know what that place is like, and it's not as bad as people think, but I'm still sorry, This happened." "Thank you," said Giorgis, lashing the boat. "I'll come to see you tomorrow morning, but I might be late. I promised Maria to drop her off early in the morning, but I'll try to pick you up at that time as usual."

The old fisherman's voice sounded uncannily calm, as if he were arranging some ordinary schedule.That's how people behave in the first few days after a loss, Lapakis thought.Maybe it's better this way. Maria made dinner for herself and her father, and at about seven o'clock they sat down facing each other.What mattered tonight was the form of the meal, not the eating, for neither of them had any appetite.This is their last supper.What did they say?They talked about trivial and unimportant things, such as what she packed in the box, and more importantly, she would see her father again on the island, every week, in Anzhe At the Ropulos house, Savina would wait for him a few times for dinner.If someone outside the house eavesdropped, it would be thought that Maria was just moving to live somewhere else.At nine o'clock in the evening, both of them were tired, so they went to bed to rest.

At 6:30 the next morning, Giorgis had taken Maria's box to the dock and loaded it into the boat.He came home again to pick her up.He still clearly remembered the situation when Eleni left, as if it was just yesterday.He remembered the sunshine on the heads of friends and students that day in May when his wife waved goodbye.This morning, the village was still dead silent, and Maria simply left. The cold wind blew through the narrow streets of Plaka, and the cool autumn air enveloped Maria, making her limbs limp, her mind numb, and her heart numb, but it still couldn't relieve her pain and sorrow.She leaned heavily on her father as she stumbled across the last few meters of the jetty, her crone's gait bringing a sting with each step.But pain does not come from the body.Her body was as strong as those young girls who have breathed the pure air of Crete all their lives, her skin was as young as any young girl on Crete, and her eyes were as dark as theirs. This small boat is bumping and shaking on the sea, and the goods on board are tied up with thin ropes, which are strange in shape.Slowly Giorgis stepped out of the boat, trying to hold the boat steady with one hand while reaching out to help his daughter with the other.When she was safely on board, he wrapped her in a blanket to protect her from the wind and rain.The only distinguishable difference between her and the cargo is the strands of long black hair flying freely in the wind.Carefully he untied the cable—with nothing to say or do—and their journey began.This is not the departure of a short journey to deliver supplies, this is the beginning of a new life, life in the leprosy colony, life in Spinalonga.It is the beginning of a journey of no return.