“I love this.” I spun toward him. “Theo, I love this.”
He met my smile, his jaw twitching slightly. “That’s on your dad. It was one of the top five things he wanted to show you while you’re here. Go find us some seats and I’ll get snacks.”
“Done.” I took my time choosing where we’d sit, finally settling on two sling-back chairs next to a small, bubbling water fountain featuring a cross-legged Buddha. Ever since I’d arrived in Oia, I’d been in constant motion, and it felt nice to sit and blend in for a moment.
My phone dinged and I looked down. Dax. You getting these? Wish you were here.
My stomach twisted guiltily. I’d meant to call him this morning, but I’d felt too uneasy about hearing his voice after the Theo incident. That and then the day had flown by in a blur of Henrik, the archaeological dig site, Dad avoiding me, Dad being sick, Dad canceling. Dad. Dad. Dad. Ugh. My finger hovered over the screen. I had no clue what to say. Wish you were here? Have fun? Take lots of pics? Miss you too… ?
The last thought stopped me. I hadn’t been thinking about him nearly as much as when I’d first arrived. Is that normal?
“Kalamata?” I jumped up to see Theo looking for me, staggering under the load of a giant bucket of popcorn, two ice cream cones, and a half dozen candy bars.
“Over here. What is all of this?” I asked, off-loading the candy bars.
“I forgot to ask what you like, so I got one of everything.”
My mouth twisted into a smile. “I love everything. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” He smiled at me, and instantly the weirdness evaporated. Poof. “Dark chocolate or lemon? Or both?” Ice cream was already dripping down his hand.
I took the lemon from him. “What’s the movie tonight?”
He adjusted his cone into his popcorn hand, fumbling for the ticket in his back pocket. “Something in black and white. I saw the title in Greek, but I don’t know what it is in English. Something about liking things hot?”
“Hmmm.” I grabbed a handful of hot, buttery popcorn. It still stung to be here without my dad, but Theo was making me feel a lot better. He had that effect on me.
“Sorry your dad couldn’t make it,” Theo said, as if he could read my mind. He hesitated. “It’s not the same, but… I know what it’s like to have your dad bail on you. It used to happen all the time. At some point I gave up.”
“Oh.” The popcorn stuck in my throat. “Do you see your dad much now?”
Theo shook his head. “Not if I can help it. I’m supposed to be with him for Christmas, but I’m lobbying pretty hard for that not to be the case. Hey, look.”
He nodded toward the screen, where the same MGM donkey spoof had appeared. The rest of the crowd noticed too and began clapping, and then the lights flickered once, twice, and then dimmed. “Five-minute warning. Let’s sit.”
Excitement flooded through me. I couldn’t think of a single other place I wanted to be right now. “Thanks for bringing me here.” I bumped Theo in the shoulder.
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated, holding up his still dripping cone. But instead of eating it, he looked at me with big, worried eyes. Oh no. Now what? “Are you worried about your dad?”
I straightened in my chair. That wasn’t what I was expecting. “Because he was sick today?”
He grabbed a handful of popcorn. “No, I mean about the documentary. This morning he told me he thinks it’s missing something. He’s worried that the evidence he has won’t be enough for National Geographic. They e-mailed him that they’re hoping he’ll find some new piece to the story.”
So that’s what the stress was about. Atlantis. Always Atlantis. It was starting to make sense. How run-down he was. How sick he looked. Why he’d canceled on me. Did Atlantis always have to be the thing that drove us apart? A flash of pain worked its way under my rib cage, but I forced myself to ignore it.
“How is he supposed to find something new on an eleven-thousand-year-old story?”
He shrugged. “I know, it doesn’t make sense. But I wanted to tell you in case you have any ideas. This means so much to your dad.” And clearly to Theo, too. I was hit with a wave of jealousy. Theo and my dad have now what I used to have with him when I was young: looking at our map together, lining up clues, diving into Plato. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to want to have that again.
I racked my brain, but nothing came to mind. “I’ll think about it,” I said. I didn’t have a lot of hope that I actually would, but I knew how important the documentary was to Dad, and to Theo. I turned to him. “Between the three of us, we’ll come up with something. Right?”
I wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but the worry lines on Theo’s forehead disappeared. “Right. Now no more talking about Atlantis. We need a night off.”
The movie was an old one, and Theo had partially gotten the title right. It was an old black-and-white comedy called Some Like It Hot. The theater played it in English with Greek subtitles, and before long I was swept up into it. The film was about two male musicians who witness a crime and have to go into hiding, so they join a traveling all-female band featuring Marilyn Monroe, who they both immediately fall in love with (of course) and fight over while trying to maintain their disguises and outwit the mob.
I was a little bit distracted, partially because Theo and I kept grabbing popcorn at the same time and accidentally touching hands. Every time it happened, a small light turned on inside of me. If I had to say what it was I found so compelling about Theo, it was that he was so completely Theo. I’d never met anyone like him, and I doubted I ever would again. And if this were a different night under different circumstances…
Stop.
I held my phone tightly as a reminder. The sooner I got back to Dax, the better. Because whatever was going on between Theo and me, it wasn’t going away.
Chapter Eighteen
#18. DRIED OREGANO AND ROSEMARY LEAVES
After my dad left, we couldn’t afford rent anymore and we had to leave our apartment. He hadn’t had a regular job in almost six months, but he had done a lot of odd jobs for the landlord in return for a lower rent. On his good days you could find him tightening one of the banisters or fishing a fork out of Mrs. Davis’s disposal (again). On his bad days he had his shows.
Mom said we couldn’t take the plants with us. We were moving into a basement apartment with an old classmate of hers. Plants needed light, and they’d be better off if we left them for the apartment’s new owner.
I knew it was silly, but I cried when I said goodbye to the oregano and rosemary, and then wrote a note for the new owners with my dad’s secret for growing plants: “PLANTS GROW FASTER IF YOU TALK TO THEM. THESE ONES LIKE KNOCK-KNOCK JOKES THE BEST.” The talking thing is actually true. I read about it in a research article online because I didn’t trust that my dad was right.
WHEN WE GOT BACK TO the bookstore, Ana was curled up in one of the chairs reading a novel with her legs tucked under her.
“Ah, and here we have a wild bookstore owner in her natural habitat,” Theo said, doing his best Australian accent.