Chapter 8

There was the sound of intense banging coming from behind my bedroom door. As I slowly climbed out of bed, I found much difficulty keeping my balance. I thought my head was going to split in half. Just about getting my shorts on, I rushed out of my bedroom straight into the bathroom. The smell of my urine was so intense as I urinated into the toilet. “Is that what it smells like in the morning after having a couple of drinks the night before,” was my thought. Letting the cold water run in the wash basin, I initiated to throw water onto my face. Seeing it wasn’t helping much, I decided to put my head under the tap.

Once I made it to the kitchen, I discovered where the noise was coming from. There Joe was with a hammer in his hand, putting up some picture hooks. “Jesus Christ, couldn’t you wait till everyone got up then start hammering. And what is that wearisome smell, I want to be sick,” I called out.

Joe stopped what he was doing, turned to my father who was turning some bacon over in the frying pan. “Costa, hasn’t your son ever got drunk?” he asked my father, with a smirk on his face.

“I guess no,” my father replied.

“Michael, you want one or two eggs with your bacon,” my father invited me, holding a piece of bacon over the pan, as I watched the oil drip from the slice of meat.

“I will stick with a cup of coffee for now.” Grabbing a mug, I poured myself a hot beverage. “How comes you came round so early Joe?” I asked.

My father replied, “Early, it’s almost midday son.”

Snapping my head towards the oven clock, it showed ten minutes before twelve. “shit!” I yelled out. Disappearing into the bathroom, to have a quick shower. Appearing a few minutes later, nice and fresh. No one would have thought I was drinking the previous night. Apart from a headache, I was ready to go. “I have to pick up Helen, I promised her I would go shopping with her today,” I explained as I drunk my semi-cold coffee I left on the counter earlier.

Rushing towards the front door, I hear my father shout out, “She’s got you on the hook. Now she’s drawing you out,” my father called out, as they both commenced to laugh. “Ha Ha Ha.”

With the roof down on the Wrangler, I floored the accelerator. I drove to Larnaca as fast as possible, trying not to break any driving laws. Reaching my destination, Helen was standing at the entrance of her apartment. She was holding her mobile with one hand, while the other was furiously tapping on the screen. Bringing the vehicle to a standstill, just next to her. Looking up from her device, she was not too happy to see me.

“I have been trying to text you all morning, why don’t you reply to your messages?” she yelled at me.

Panicking, I tried to fish my mobile out of my jeans. Managing to retrieve the small device, it slipped out of my hand landing in the gap between the centre console and the driver’s seat. Searching for it as I mumbled to Helen, “Sorry, I am not used to all this messenger and Facebook.” Struggling to pull it back up with two fingers, not to drop it. Once the thing was in my hand, I pressed the power button. The screen remained black. Looking up at Helen, not knowing what to say.

The angry, beautiful face in front of me was struggling not to smile or even laugh. Climbing into the passenger seat, she leaned towards me kissing me on the lips. With a smile, she said, “come on let’s go, for your punishment we are going to go to Nicosia, shopping.

“Sorry, Helen, I overslept.”

“Is that why I can still smell the alcohol on your breath. A night out with the boys last night?” she replied, not in a possessive tone.

Exiting the slip road, onto the motorway I pushed the Jeep to the maximum speed I was allowed. Smiling to myself as I thought as each day goes by, I am falling in love more and more with this beautiful person sitting next to me.

Once we were in Nicosia, Helen directed me to The Mall in the city centre. For two hours it was from one shop to the other. Helen was trying a variety of outfits. When a man goes shopping, it’s one or two shops, and he’s finished. With a woman, it’s another story. If I had one of those gizmos that count steps, I am sure I did ten thousand steps. I didn’t mind. I loved spending time with her. By the time we finished, I was walking towards the car park with at least half a dozen bags in each hand.

“Are you sure you’ve finished? We can put the bags in the car and go back,” I jokingly said to Helen.

Slapping me lightly on the shoulder, Helen replied, “It isn’t every day a girl comes shopping to Nicosia.

It was late afternoon. We headed for the old city of Nicosia. The sun was disappearing behind the beautiful old building that stood in the old town for more than two-hundred years. Finding a small traditional restaurant, we sat to have something to eat.

Choosing a variety of mezes from the menu, we enjoyed each one, as we commented to each other about each dish. That was good comments as the food was terrific. Finishing off with a coffee, we both sat there looking into each other’s eyes. Our free hand stretched out across the table, our fingers interlocked together.

When we eventually asked for the bill. The owner of the restaurant brought it over himself. Looking over the check, I noticed a mistake.

“I’m sorry sir, but it seems that you have made a mistake? You should have charged us more,” I said to the middle-aged man, standing in front of me, smiling.

“It isn’t every day that we see love blossom like you two. You reminded my wife and me when we met thirty years ago.” Looking behind him, his wife was watching from the counter.

Taking some notes out of my wallet, I placed them on top of the bill. “Thank you, the food was incredible, including the service.”

Hand in hand we walked back to the car. It was a long day, and it will be a lengthy drive back to Avgorou. Driving past the restaurant, the young waitress waved at us as we drove past.

“How much did they charge us at the restaurant?” Helen asked.

“About thirty euros, maybe thirty-five.”

“You left a lot more than that.”

“It isn’t every day you have a meal like that.”

Putting her hand on top of mine, when I reached to change gear. She left it there until we got back to the village.

Pulling into the driveway, the headlights from the Jeep shone on Joe’s car. He must have stayed with my father, keeping him company until I returned. But it was Saturday evening. He should be at the bar. “Something is wrong,” was my first thought. Entering the house, they were both sitting down at the kitchen table. With the expression, they had on their face I knew something was wrong. Tightening the grip on Helen’s hand, I waited for them to speak.

“Sit down son, I need to talk to you.” my father gesturing me to sit down opposite him. Joe got up, facing away from us. He looked out of the window while rubbing his neck.

“It’s your cousin, George. He had a car accident.”

“Is he ok?”

“He’s in the operating theatre as we speak son. It happened about two hours ago.”

Helen and I drove straight to Famagusta General Hospital. Joe stayed with dad until we return. Rushing into the Accident and Emergency waiting room, I saw My aunt, uncle and Maria, sitting there in deep thought. Walking up to my aunt, who was sitting in the middle. I took her hand in comfort. Maria was hugging me from the left, while my uncle, just sat there staring in space.