Free Nicolai's Daughters by Stella Leventoyannis Harvey Page A

said.
    â€œYou different,” another aunt said.
    â€œWho wants to be same?” Maria said.
    â€œThat is what I am trying to say,” Yannis interjected.
    â€œSee the ideas you put in the head of children?”
    â€œI am almost a man.”
    â€œYou go to university,” Christina said. “This does not make you a man.”
    Plates and forks clanged. The others spoke over each other.
    â€œIdeas are not bad,” Maria said.
    Alexia had had many of the same discussions with her father, whenever she watched what she ate, bought organic food, drank soy milk rather than cow’s milk or switched to gluten-free breads.
    â€œFood is food. It’s all good for you. You’ve just bought into the ads,” he’d say.
    â€œI feel better when I’m careful,” Alexia responded.
    â€œ Ella, paidi mou ,” he said. “You don’t believe everything you read.”
    â€œYou mean you ad guys lie to make a buck.”
    â€œFamilies are this way,” Maria said, the food in her mouth muffling her voice.
    â€œWe take good with bad,” Christina said and avoided Maria’s eyes.
    â€œNot all families wild like yours, Maria,” Katarina said.
    â€œAt least we are alive,” Maria said. “Have a pulse.”
    Everyone began to talk at once. Alexia remembered how she used to get excited and talk with her mouth full. As she’d gotten older, she’d hated the way her father talked with his mouth full, bits of food spewing out with the words. It was raw and undignified. I’d never let anyone see that much of me, she thought. As she sat watching these people, her father’s family, she remembered how, when she got older, it became her turn to chide her father for talking with his mouth full.
    One night, he’d been helping her with her homework, as he did whether she wanted him to or not. “Your paper doesn’t support its conclusion,” Nicolai said. Alexia was in high school, she knew full well what she was doing. She didn’t need his help. He shrugged and smiled out of one side of his mouth as if he’d won a point. A bit of spinach from their dinner of spanikopita was stuck in his teeth.
    â€œI can’t understand what you’re saying,” Alexia said. She hoped to finish dinner before they got into it. She really wanted this to be the time he didn’t tell her what he thought. Just let the paper be, or better yet, tell me how great it is and leave it at that.
    â€œI’m sick and tired of the problems with the natives you write about in your paper, paidi mou . When do they take responsibility? Why is it always someone else’s fault? And why do the rest of us have to take care of these people?”
    Alexia stood up, took the plates away and washed them. He continued arguing. When she turned around, she saw he had her paper in front of him, an oily stain colouring one corner. He was scratching notes on her pages with his ballpoint pen. She listened as he went over his comments because she knew if she didn’t, she’d be up all night.
    â€œBut I’m making that point on the next page. Don’t you see?” Alexia said, though when it got even later, she stopped challenging him too. Instead, she let him ramble on and ignored most of it, submitting the paper the way she wanted it. That was the last time she showed him her homework. She got an A and never mentioned it.
    â€œ Ella ,” Christina said. “Kids are kids. No? We were young once. We old and sometimes we forget.”
    They quieted down as if pondering what she’d said and later hummed agreement. Alexia’s younger cousins finished eating and kicked a soccer ball around. The men lay down to nap and the women cleaned up. Alexia picked up a few plates to help.
    â€œYou will have plenty of time to ruin your hands when you have husband,” Christina said, gently slapped Alexia’s hands and took the plates from