Chapter 2

I have been here for almost a week, recovering from my injuries. I owe my life to my saver, the priest that brought me here. The man of God, he has been taking care of my injuries. It’s hard to guess how old he is, from the thick beard that covers most of his facial features. He is a tall and slim man, always standing straight, full of confidence.

It was late in the afternoon. For one hour I was struggling in bed to bring myself in an upright position. When the priest sees how much I have progressed, he will be delighted. Also, I must break my silence today. From the day he showed me the newspaper article, I have not spoken a single word to him. Staring at the clock, I counted the second as I watched the second-hand move, listening to the ticking sound it made. I waited patiently. He should be here soon.

The door creaked open. It was the priest. Like the previous days, he was carrying a large tray with both hands. It was my dinner. He carefully pushed the door open with his back, and once he was inside the room, he placed the items he was holding on top of the dressing table. His front still turned away from me. Turning around, he had a shocked look on his face for a moment. He had never seen me sitting up. The startled look, turned into a smile, as he approached me.

He nodded his head. “I see you are up, that is excellent,” he said.

I nodded back and whispered, “Yes, thank you.”

Like clockwork, he retrieved a First Aid bag from under the bed. He unzipped it and removed from inside the items he would be using. He prepared the objects in order on the bedside cabinet. In silence, he commenced removing my bandages. Followed by cleaning the wounds, and then replaced the dressings with fresh once. He finished by tightening the bandage around my waist, which caused me discomfort. I gritted my teeth from the sharp pain.

“You are still sore I see. However you are healing,” he said. “Now, let’s see your face,” the priest said.

He removed the dressing from my left cheek, leaving it uncovered for a few minutes, as he examined the cut. He prepared a soaked gauze pad by dipping it in saline solution. He then dabbed the dressing onto the wound, cleaning the area from any infection. Unrolling a fresh bandage, he reached out to cover the cut. With my hand raised, I stopped him halfway from finishing his task.

“I would like to see it, please?” I asked.

“Are you sure? It’s not a pretty sight,” he warned me.

I nodded my head. “I have to see it sooner or later,” I replied

The priest revealed a hand mirror from inside the First Aid bag. He was sceptical on handing it over to me, a few seconds later he placed the object into the palm of my hand. I gradually raised the mirror to look at my reflection. Once I had a full view of my face, my vision went to the cut on my cheek. Bringing the mirror closer, I analysed the deep slash which began below my eye, going down to my cheek. Dropping the mirror onto my lap, I turned my head away and began to weep.

It was the sound of the creaking door that got my attention. The priest was leaving the room. I had to stop him. “Wait! Please, don’t leave!” I yelled.

He came to the side of the bed, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I know how you feel. It’s not a very nice sight to look at, but once it heals, it will not look so bad. The cut was not too deep. You will hardly notice it in a year.” He tried to convince me.

“I want to apologise, father. For my ill-mannered actions, all these days, you have been taking care of me.” I paused for a moment. “I have not said one word to you. I don’t even know your name?”

“Father Petrou, a pleasure to meet you,” he said, taking my hand in a firm grip for a handshake. “I was wondering when you were going to speak. I thought you took a vow of silence.” He smiled.

“Tony Demetriou, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Father Petrou.” I pulled his hand towards me, tilted my head forward to kiss it. It is an ancient custom we do, signifying respect to our spiritual family.

He drew his hand back quickly. “You don’t have to do that my son.” There was a moment of silence, where we gazed at each other. “Her condition is the same. She is still in a coma, but she is stable,” he said.

He got my attention. “Have you seen Julie? When did you see her?” I pulled the bed sheet back, ready to climb out of bed. The sudden movement made me unstable. I was still weak. “That wasn’t a good idea,” I said.

“Hold on, let’s get you well first. Then we can visit your wife.” While speaking, he brought the tray over to the bed. He placed it on my laps, as close as possible for me to eat, on my own. “Now eat up, once you can walk we’ll go to the hospital to see her. Eat up. I’m not going to feed you forever.” He smiled.

It took another week until I was up on my feet and able to go outside. My place of sanctuary is the annexe part of the Church of St. Barnabas. A small room in the backyard of the church is where I sleep. It has a toilet and shower, but no kitchen. The kitchenette is an extension of the church. It was perfect for me until I heal.

Gradually I started to walk. I used the church courtyard to exercise my legs. I limped slowly along the path, doing laps around the church. I would only come out during the night, Away from the eyes of the world. I was not ready for people to see me like this yet. Father Petrou would help me in the evenings, as he had his clergyman duties in the morning.

During the August nights, the high temperatures of the summer made it unbearable to be inside. Father Petrou and I would sit outside, hoping for a breeze to blow.

We would sit there in the quietness of the night. Like I had my nightmares haunting me, I believe the priest had his. With my head leaned back, I was resting it on the wall. I looked up at the sky and stared out to space, beyond the stars. The sudden breeze of wind cooled my face. Closing my eyes, memories of my wife flooded my mind. Reopening them, I felt a tear run down my cheek.

“We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.” The priest announced, without warning, he just spat it out. He looked at me to see my response.

“I can’t go like this. I’m not ready to see anyone.” I panicked.

“Leave that to me,” he said with a smirk on his face.

I stood up suddenly feeling pins and needles on my legs. I tried to balance myself not to fall. I wobbled from left to right. Father Petrou came to my aid. His hands open ready to catch me. I grabbed the handrail next to me and began to laugh loudly.