Page 52 of Footprints in the Sand
Harry smiled and rolled his eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you have children with your husband?”
Dimitra’s heart felt shadowed. It was an intimate question, but one she wanted to allow. “We tried,” she said finally. “It didn’t work for us.”
Harry touched her hand. Their french fries were getting cold between them.
“You are so good at showing love, at caring for people,” Harry said.
Dimitra raised her shoulders. “It’s what I always wanted to do for a child.” Her voice broke. “But now I have Cash to dote on.” She bent down to feed Cash a french fry, which he ate in a single chomp.
Harry and Dimitra enjoyed their meals, chatting about everything from parenting, to sailing, to the dogs they remembered growing up with. It was remarkable to realize that they were nearly the same age and therefore remembered many of the same songs and movies from their childhood, despite having been raised oceans apart. They remembered the same historical events.
“It’s bizarre to think we’re more than halfway done with our lives, isn’t it?” Harry said.
“I want to be alive as long as I can,” Dimitra said. “I want to experience as much of all of this as possible. I want to make art and sing songs and swim in every ocean. I want so much.”
Harry’s eyes glinted with what could only be love. But was it love? Dimitra didn’t want to get ahead of herself. She didn’t want to expect anything.
They’d already agreed on friendship only.
After they left the burger restaurant, they meandered down the boulevard, occasionally holding hands and then letting their fingers disconnect.
It was after a half-hour walk that Dimitra’s phone buzzed with a call from Athena, which was strange, because it was late for Greece. Initially, Dimitra was going to ignore it. But Harry was getting a call, too.
“It’s my ex-wife. It could be something to do with Ginny,” he said. “It’ll just be a second.”
They smiled and stepped away from one another for privacy. Cash wagged his tail and looked from one of them to the other, confused but happy.
Athena’s voice rattled Dimitra from her happy bubble. In Greek, she said, “Have you seen the news?”
Dimitra furrowed her brow. “What? No.”
“It’s everywhere,” Athena said. “I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t understand how this happened.”
Dimitra begged her sister to slow down. She thought of Aphrodite, of Nico, of her parents. “Is everyone safe? Is everyone okay?”
“It’s Kostos,” Athena cried. “He’s alive.”
Dimitra thought she was going to fall to the ground. “What are you talking about?”
Everything was in slow motion. She shifted around to find Harry, his phone pressed against his ear, gaping at her. His eyes were panicked. Athena still hadn’t begun to explain.
“I need to let you go,” Dimitra said.
“Wait,” Athena begged.
But Dimitra hung up. Harry got off the phone, too.
“Apparently, there are photos of us on the internet,” Harry said to Dimitra. His voice was strained.
Dimitra couldn’t breathe.
“My ex-wife saw them,” he said. “There’s gossip that, um, we helped your ex-husband fake his own death? For insurance money?”
Dimitra’s breathing was rapid and out of sync. She gripped the boardwalk railing and bent her knees. “I don’t understand. Kostos is dead. He died. In a fishing accident.”
