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Eléni & M Move to Athens - Part 30

by Patrick M. Ohana 5 months ago in fantasy · updated 5 months ago

A Lookalike Moves Our Hearts

Photo by George M. Groutas (CC BY 2.0) on Flickr

This new series has its history in the form of several short stories, several poems, and a 13-part series that is linked at the bottom via Part 29 of this series. Anthi Psomiadou has kindly agreed to play the role of a fictional character also called, Anthi, as she had played in the first series, but in this series with the symbolic name, Anthi Kanéna, which she has chosen herself. It seems that I am infatuated with Anthi Kanéna.

How can any educated person stay away from the Greeks? I have always been far more interested in them than in Science. Albert Einstein

O Anthi, indeed! You have become my only reason for wanting to live, I continued to whisper in her beautiful mind, wondering what it would be like to be deep inside.

O M, mon coeur, je n’ai jamais aimé personne autant que je t’aime (O M, my heart, I never loved anyone as much as I love you).”

I want to hold you, morning, noon, and night, and feel your warmth inside every cell, though I think that it has already occurred since I am burning up.

“I know. I feel it too. Where is the Moon? Where is the night? I want to hold you in my arms.”

Let us take this side street at the right and run away into the night. I hear love always wins on the run, at least until the first light.

“I will follow you if you run. I will as Goddess Athena is our witness.”

I know, my beautiful Anthi, I know that you will. But I will never let you. I love you too much for that. I want us to be free. Only love and freedom intertwined can bring lasting happiness.

“You already have both my mind and my heart. My body is attached to them and thus it is also yours.”

I do not remember how we arrived to the Kritsa village but we did, resting for a while in a little café before wandering around the local artisans’ displays of traditional crafts which were for sale. I often wondered if art could be really sold. Not the object, like a painting or a statue, but the feeling that one had upon interpreting and understanding it. I looked at my Anthi, absorbing her beauty, but unable to put it into words. I write all the time but I cannot describe her essence. It is undetermined like dividing something by zero. My love for her has become embedded in my being. She is in my DNA, my Deoxyribonucleic Anthi. Please, do not worry about Eléni! She will always be alright. Nothing can bring her down.

As we walked around the artisans’ stores and carts, we stumbled upon a sight for sore eyes. We were feeling fine. How could we not with a real goddess in our midst? But here before our eyes, stood smiling Athena’s lookalike. Not a perfect match but not very far. We stopped in our tracks and looked at her, almost mesmerized. Athena bid her, hello, and she, the woman, waved her hand from below, taking a part of all our hearts. It was a case of love at first sight. O Greece! Methinks that I am going to lose my life to thee, or at least my sanity. Your beauty never ceases to amaze me. Athena and then my Anthi and now this apparition. She looked like a living work of art. If she joined us, we could conquer the world. Athena, Anthi, Eléni, and X. The Four Beauties of Beatitude.

Her first name was Anthi too. I had to sit down. We all did, except for Athena who spoke to her about her life in Crete. She owned the place, a quaint restaurant, with her husband, and she had a young son. Athena hugged her and Anthi hugged her back, a few tears appearing in her blue eyes, where one could discern both the sea and the sky. I can describe this Anthi’s eyes, but I could never describe Athena’s. Her divinity seems to strip me of my freedom with words. Athena is indescribable, except for declaring her the most beautiful being on Earth. But I can compare this new Anthi to my Anthi, seeing my heart’s only hand pointing to my Anthi. If Goddess Athena has not captured my heart, no other woman, even an Athena lookalike, and also called Anthi, could move this hand. My heart will always belong to my Anthi. I think that our connection occurred in the stars. Determinism is not as bad as it may sound. Causes and effects also bring about beauty and grace. Between the Big Bang, a silly so silly name, and today, the number of effects are unfathomable as is the universe. Anthi is my universe. There is nothing that I could add to that to make it more comprehensible. The real Anthi wrote about Eternalland, describing with her wise words the centre of a galaxy, which also happens to be a black hole, another loopy appellation. My Anthi is my black hole and I want to disappear in her event horizon. I said it in her mind and she had tears which I could not lick and swallow because we are not free. I want to be free with my Anthi. I want to break free. Perhaps Athena could turn us into birds. Careful what you wish for.

I want us to be free. I want to put my hands on her knees when she talks. I want to touch her elbows when she smiles. I want to brush her hair from her honey eyes. I want to kiss her nose. I want to lick her ears. I want to bite her neck. I want to taste her tongue. I want to smell my meaning of life. I want her hands to caress my face. I want her feet to rest on my stomach. We only have our dreams for that and so much more. I want to scream sometimes, but no one would hear my cries, except Athena, and my Anthi if I let my screams invade her mind. But I love her too much for that. I only want her to hear my love. My screams are only meant for me and the injustices of this world. I also scream when I write, when I type certain words, when I read some of them aloud. Anthi, I tend to whisper or exclaim. What a word! It rivals my favourite word. You know it. Come on! It used to be my calling. Pussy! But Anthi has taken over. I like to say, Anthi. My Anthi! O Anthi! Who are you dreaming about, Anthi? It is always me now since we share the same dreams.

We remained in new Anthi’s restaurant until sundown, leaving her with the promise to see each other again. I only have a sample of three Anthis, and it is thus unscientific, but I suspect that all Anthis are good-natured and beautiful. It is a possible experiment. The hypothesis seems simple. But I already have my answer, especially that I know the one Anthi that also loves me, and with this fact, I have no use for the hypothesis or the experiment. Only my Anthi counts in my eyes. My N or n will always be 1.

We arrived to the hotel at 8:05. I did not have to check the time. I only saw the eight and knew that the five was there, like Anthi and M, I mean me. We talked about our day with merriment and wonderment. Grandpa and Grandma were happy, perhaps more so after I kissed and hugged them. Delphine looked like a wise teenager, holding my hand from time to time and calling me Uncle M. I still cannot get used to it. Patrick looked like a prick. He always does. At least, he makes me laugh when I write about him. Eléni was her usual self, always loving and impossible to ignore. I may not write about her, but she is with me. We talk and we also make love, though I see Anthi when we do, which is not fair to her. But I cannot control my cells, which all contain Deoxyribonucleic Anthi. My Anthi knows, but she loves Eléni; everybody does. Athena is our Goddess, which says it all. We laughed a lot and even teared a little because of some awful news abroad. The Moon had made its appearance, but now had finally announced to both Anthi and M, I mean me, that our dream tonight was going to be galactic.



I thank Anthi Psomiadou for being Anthi Psomiadou. She is amazing. Her numerous comments, suggestions, and helpful words inevitably make me wonder about what I am going to write next. I never know in advance. I just reread the last paragraph of the previous part and begin to write with both the real Anthi and the fictional Anthi in mind. What comes out is always a surprise. I do not think that I would have had a story to tell without the real Anthi in both the foreground and background of my head. It is the reason why I mention her every time. She is a significant part of this story. She is its heart. What about Athena? She is divine. Anthi is human. Patrick may fall in love with the divine, whereas M can only be in love with someone human. It may be a stretch, but this is fiction, after all. Is it, though? I wonder sometimes.



Patrick M. Ohana

Medical writer who prefers to read and write fiction and some nonfiction, though the latter may appear at times as the former. anthi-and-m.com

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