The Scapegoat by Sophia Nikolaidou Read Free Book Online Page A

saliva running down his chin, and him laughing so hard he almost choked. The young man who came and stood before me now was as thin as a branch. His eyes had seen war, his hands had killed. I didn’t recognize him.
Nikitas
, I whispered. He was only a year older than me. A vein pulsed on his cheekbone. He saw me notice. If he could, he would have ripped it out then and there.
    Jack asked me to tell Nikitas he was a reporter.
An American
, he added, since that usually opened doors. He would go wherever they told him to, would follow their instructions to the letter, as long as he could interview the General.
    —Your husband is crazy, was Nikitas’s response. Or he’s pretending to be, he added, not even looking in Jack’s direction.
    We left empty-handed. Jack had plenty of enemies at that point. He’d been making a stink to people in high places in the government, because the American aid packages weren’t being distributed to the families of communists in the villages.
    —From a political perspective it’s not unjust, I heard him saying to someone over the phone. I understand your position, we don’t feed the hand that bites, or kills. But, my dear friend, they’re letting women and children go hungry.
    Antrikos, our friend in Athens, warned me.
    —You need to reel him in, he said. Two days ago, Jack met with the Minister of the Interior. They say Jack was shouting about the riots breaking out all over the country. He accused Rimaris of letting his men pick and choose where the American aid ended up. Sincerity isn’t a solution or a cure, Antrikos cautioned. There are certain things we just don’t say.
    Jack should have known.
    We could all see it: my husband was ambitious. He wanted to be the first and the only. If anyone ever said no, he simply didn’t listen. His stubbornness brooked no denial.
    —A reporter’s job is to do the things others find impossible, he told his friends with a smile.
    Antrikos disagreed.
    The General was the trophy they were all chasing after. No one had ever met with him, no one had any idea where he was. An interview with the leader of the rebels in his hiding place would make an international splash. If Jack could pull it off, he would return crowned with laurels. Then maybe he would calm down. We’d go to America, have a family. He would work a deskjob at the radio station, he wouldn’t feel the need to prove anything to anyone anymore.
    —Don’t listen to him, Antrikos advised. When this is over, something else will come to take its place. The man can’t sit still, don’t you see?
    That’s when I started to notice. At restaurants he always kept his back to the wall. He slept with a revolver under his pillow. He said it was part of the job. The truth was, he lived dangerously. That’s why he took pleasure in every moment. And I admired him for that.
    I was a fool. I thought life owed us something. Disasters were for other people, that’s what I thought. I’d never been denied anything.
    I got out all the crystal from my dowry. I wrapped each piece carefully in rags, then packed them in barrels, in layers of hay. I would take it all to America, even the porcelain tea set for my dolls. I would have a baby girl and we’d sip tea and pretend to be ladies together. Our departure date had been set.
    Auf Wiedersehen
.
    Jack had been up in Salonica for days. We’d fought, that’s what the papers wrote. But I had only stayed behind to pack for our journey. Our clothes, the radio from my dowry, the embroidered sheets. The furniture he’d brought back from the Middle East. The desk, the armchairs, the bed. I had a suit made for the flight, pear green, with a cream-colored hat and gloves and a bow at the back. New clothes for a new place. A new life.
    It wasn’t a serious argument. We’d have settled things with a kiss. In bed, where all our fights got resolved. Jack just didn’t want to bring me with him. He was trying to protect me. I arrived, as we had agreed, a few