The locals had always taken care of these roadside memorials, but he had thought that by now... Or rather he had triednotto think about it standing neglected, like the house...
It had not been neglected.
He opened up the little door and took out a few fading flowers. He put in the ones he had worn yesterday. There was a box of matches inside, and fresh candles.
He had always turned his head away as they’d passed it on the school bus. Today, he saw its beauty. And he wished he had faith, but he stuck to logic.
He looked around, examined the tree, and could barely locate the scar on it. His parents had died here, and the trajectory of his whole life had changed right at this spot.
It offended Galen’s consciousness that he couldn’t remember a thing about it. Nor could he remember the months in hospital afterwards.
And so, instead of standing there and trying to remember what he could not, Galen ran down towards thetheatron, where he and Costa had used to train.
As Galen took the steps again, he recalled being small and running up and down, over and over. Preparing to face a day of being shoved. And then getting taller and wider and still running, because he’d thought his brain might explode if he stayed there much longer.
Yet one night here and he was already considering staying on for another...sorting out the house...just getting it done...
For things had been left undone.
Galen’s run finished rather abruptly, and as he dragged in air he took a seat reluctantly. The silence was actually beautiful here on Anapliró. There was a haze of sea mist over the Aegean, softly fading into a clear blue sky, and it was a colour he could not describe. There was no hum of traffic, no lights or anything. It was like a power-cut, when all appliances stopped, and you realised the world you sat in was not so silent after all.
Maybe he did need that digital detox, Galen thought wryly, because his mind was actually feeling a new version of clear.
‘Galen!’
He looked up when he heard his name being called, and then frowned when he saw that it was Costa. ‘What the hell?’ Galen asked. ‘Haven’t you got better things to do the morning after you marry?’
‘I do—but I need to speak with you, and of course there was no chance to do so yesterday. I guessed I might find you here.’
They both sat on a damp, dewy step and Costa handed Galen some water. ‘Are you and Mary the fastest break up ever?’ he asked.
‘No...’ Costa was turning his own water bottle over and over in his hand, as he had the champagne cork. ‘But I need to ask you to do something.’
‘What? More speeches!’
‘Kristina is taking six weeks off, yes?’
‘What’s that got to do with you?’
‘I’m going to ask you to employ someone. You’re going to say no, but I—’
‘I’ll save you the trouble,’ Galen cut in. ‘The answer is no. Stay out of my work!’
‘Galen, I told you there was stuff going on.’
Galen turned at the gravity in Costa’s tone.
‘This is a serious matter...’
And Galen knew that it must be if the groom was here at seven in the morning the day after his wedding.
‘Please just listen?’
Galen gave a reluctant nod.
‘This can go no further—ever.’
‘You know it won’t.’