Free Nicolai's Daughters by Stella Leventoyannis Harvey Page B

her.
    â€œIf you are lucky, you won’t find one,” Katarina said. “Too much work.” They laughed and flung rolled-up napkins at each other.
    Alexia lay back on a blanket and listened to their chatter and laughter as they filled garbage bags and stuffed their empty containers back into their baskets, boxes and coolers. She’d never really understood she was part of such a big family even though her father talked about them, and when he received letters from Christina he’d give Alexia updates. She used to hear his translations of those letters and imagine what these people were like. Tall like Nicolai, funny and loud. Different. In her mind, they were exotic, and when she was a kid, Alexia missed them without ever knowing who they were. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t met them then. Not having a family made her more self-sufficient. Perhaps all the noise would have scared her or repulsed her in some way. Or maybe she would have rejected them altogether.
    He told me Greece was a paradise, she thought, but never bothered to take me. The first time he called, a month after he left, I didn’t recognize his voice. Someone had taken my sad, unable-to-get-out-of-bed dad and turned him into a cheerful, happy one I didn’t know. I accused him of not being my father, cried and threw the phone. What an idiot. Mavis tried to make things better. “You have to be a good girl,” she said, “while he’s away.” That’s all I’ve ever been. I knew if I didn’t behave, he wasn’t going to come back.
    Alexia watched her aunts finish packing the containers. Their world was so different than hers. It didn’t matter. She was here to do a job. That’s why she was here. Nothing more. She rummaged through her purse for her cell.

5
    1986
    Nicolai ran towards the swing, waving his arms. Her little hands clutched the chains, her knuckles white. The man gave the swing another push. She rocked even higher.
    â€œThat’s high enough, Alexia.” He meant to shout, but his voice came out a cracked whisper. Could she hear him? She tried to smile, wanting to please.
    She tilted her head and met his eyes. Her smile disappeared.
    â€œHey, you. Stop that.” He yanked the man’s arm.
    The stranger turned.
    Nicolai recognized his hazel eyes, his own lopsided smirk.
    The man stared at Nicolai, daring him to do something, anything. The other Nicolai pushed Alexia again, his hands hard against her back.
    â€œIt’s going too high, Daddy.”
    â€œIt’s okay, you know what you’re doing,” both men said in one voice.
    â€œNo,” she said and let go.
    â€œAlexia!” he screamed, grasping for her. His hands fell to the side of the bed.
    He bolted awake. His eyes darted around the room. He heard the groan of pipes and a flush down the hall. He lay back into the sag of his boyhood bed, staring at the ceiling, willing the dream out of his head. A spider lowered itself from the beam, bobbed along a thin line caught in the shimmer of the early morning sun. Nicolai rolled over, pushed himself to the edge of the mattress, then sank back into the middle. He pulled the covers over his head. Alexia was with Stuart and Mavis. She was safe.
    He heard a door slam. The radio in the kitchen came on, the male announcer’s tone loud and insistent. Nicolai understood every word and none of it was English. It was his native tongue, the language he spoke with his parents, his sisters. Greek. He was back to where he’d started, in the home he thought he’d never return to.
    There was a crash. The radio must have been knocked over. A whispered mutter. Then static. The announcer’s persistent voice replaced by a cheerful tune that echoed off the walls, a clear sign that his father was gone for the day. Above the clatter of dishes and the rush of water in the sink was his mother’s voice. What did she have to sing about? He walked down the