THE NEXT FEW DAYS PASSED in a blur of filming, sunscreen, and bumpy moments with my dad, smoothed over by the presence of Theo. We fell into a routine—wake up early, gather our obscene amount of equipment, head for the boat, work on our shot list, then rush back to Oia to help out at the bookstore until close, followed by sunset, dinner, and editing/drawing on the patio until we were too tired to keep our eyes open. Lather, rinse, repeat.
This was doable. It was very doable. Not only had Theo stopped talking about me making up with my dad, but my dad also seemed to be content with keeping things surface level as well. It wasn’t comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but I could handle it for another week or so.
Dax was texting me again—relief—but I found myself not hovering around my phone like I usually did. There was no way I was ever going to admit this to my mom, but she had been right. While I liked my social life back home, it was also really nice to be away from the noise and chaos and pressures and simply be. More than once I realized that I’d accidentally left my phone in the bunk and spent entire blissful days out on the water with no worries about what was going on in Balboa. It had been a while since I’d felt this free.
Despite the emotional ruins my dad and I were tiptoeing around, the days picked up speed, probably because they were so full. Theo and my dad were both perfectionists about the content of the shots, and I was a perfectionist about how everything looked. It turned out that I did have a knack for filmmaking. Once we’d reach a location, I’d look around, trusting my eyes to land on the perfect place to film. It was like a tiny bell rang and I knew. I’d also gone out shopping for my dad’s on-camera wardrobe, and even convinced him to update his glasses, which had improved his appearance immensely.
Most shots we redid three or four times, which was a problem, because no matter where we were, people flocked to the camera, curious to listen to whatever topic he was expounding on that day, or to chime in with their own theories of Atlantis. I honestly had no idea that the general population was so intrigued by Atlantis. If the documentary turned out as well as I imagined it would, it could be a huge success.
We also filmed the cliffs on the inner edge of Santorini, showing the way that the ash and pumice from the volcano explosion had created multicolor layers of rock. Layers you could actually see. At one point my dad said that if you wanted to touch Atlantis, all you had to do was touch that lower layer, and the line was so good that I dragged him over and made him say it again, but with him actually touching the rock. It honestly made me feel a little emotional to watch him do that, and when no one was looking I reached my hand out and touched it fast. Not surprisingly, it didn’t feel like Atlantis. It felt like rock.
On day four of filming, I woke up from a dream about the water. And for once I wasn’t drowning. When I opened my eyes, daylight streamed through our shared window. As usual, Theo’s bed was already empty and neatly made, a pile of books on his pillow.
I stretched my arms happily over my head. I don’t know if it was the French rap or the absolute exhaustion, but ever since arriving in Oia, I hadn’t had a single nightmare.
By now I was an expert bunk navigator. I took my time sliding open the bookcase, carefully peering out into the store. Empty. Perfect. I lowered myself to the floor.
After quickly showering in the cave, I found my sturdiest pair of sneakers and made my way up to the roof to find Ana and my dad with steaming cups of coffee in their hands, speaking quietly in Greek. It was a cool morning, the early-morning fog still wispy on the horizon, and when I heard their voices, I instinctively slowed.
Ana spoke hurriedly, her tone nervous, and it sounded like my father was trying to reassure her about something. What was this about? For a moment I tried to eavesdrop, but they were speaking too quickly, and I couldn’t untangle more than a few words in Greek. I was peeking around the corner when Dad caught sight of me and jumped to his feet mid-sentence.
“Liv!”
Busted.
“Morning, Dad. Are you feeling any better?” I asked, joining them on the terrace.
My dad put everything he had into the day’s work, and by the time we made it back to Oia, he was usually so exhausted that he’d skip dinner and head straight to bed. This morning his coloring was back to normal, and his eyes were bright again, which was good because we had a lot of filming to do.
“A good night of sleep cures almost everything,” he said, smiling. “I heard Bapou made his famous moussaka.”
“It was incredible.” My mouth watered at the thought of it. Bapou’s moussaka was made with thinly sliced eggplant, richly spiced lamb, and a savory béchamel sauce. After a long day of work, it had felt like I’d died and gone to an oregano-scented heaven.
“Ready for Egyptology day?” I asked. Today we were going to film the ins and outs of my dad’s theory of Santorini-as-Atlantis, and after I’d decided on the interior of the bookstore as the best location, Theo and I had stayed up all night setting the scene. We’d cleared off the desk and placed a few of my dad’s maps on the wall, and then I’d spent almost an hour arranging books and knickknacks to make it look like we were in the office of a trained Atlantis expert. Even I had to admit that it looked great, and Ana had agreed to make a rare exception to her Open after first coffee rule. The bookstore would open at noon.
My dad’s shoulders fell in resignation. “Liv, I am so sorry, but we have a bit of a… conflict.”
The word “conflict” snapped me out of my thought process. That and the sharp look Ana gave my dad.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He shrugged apologetically. “I’m so very sorry, but I’ve had something come up on the main island. I need to take the next ferry to Athens. You will have to do today’s filming without me.”
“But…” I stumbled. “How? Today is about you and your theory. We can’t film it without you. I already set up inside the shop.”
His mouth dropped into a frown. “I know this is inconvenient, and I am very sorry. I’ve already spoken with Theo, and you two are going to do as much of the work as possible, and I will pick up from where you left off as soon as I return this afternoon.”
I was so confused. We had just a few days left, and losing even one of those days meant we likely wouldn’t make our deadline. He knew that better than anyone. Also, was he really going to leave right in the middle of my visit? The floor shifted like it had back at the airport when I’d realized my dad wasn’t there, and suddenly I was holding my breath.
Breathe, Liv You aren’t eight years old. He can’t leave you again.
I straightened my shoulders, shaking my panic loose. “What’s going on in Athens?”
Another look between Ana and my dad “Well…,” he started.
“Business, always business.” Ana sighed. “Your father unfortunately has to do a lot to keep the bookstore afloat. There are complications with the business license.”
The business license? “But… haven’t you been open for over a year?” I asked, looking around.
“Complications,” Ana said again, rolling her eyes. This morning she wore a mustard-colored maxi dress with lace inserts, and her feet, like usual, were bare. She must have done a fresh pedicure, because her toenails were bright pink.