White Vespa by Kevin Oderman Read Free Book Online

was amused. He could imagine any number of dramatic scenes she might create for him. He was looking forward to what was coming, whatever it might be.
    It was past noon and the room was very hot when he woke up. He rinsed his face at the sink and then pulled his suitcases out of the bottom of the wardrobe. It didn’t take him long to locate the envelope of old photographs. He shuffled through them quickly until he found the one he was looking for: a little girl bouncing on the back of her horse, heading for the barn. Even in
the picture you could see she wasn’t riding well, wasn’t maintaining contact with the trotting horse, but she looked happy, such a little princess. The horse had been called Pie, short for Shoofly Pie, a name Anne had picked out of a favorite children’s book.

Fifteen
    19 June
    Â 
    It was Yórgos who arranged for the boat. Myles met Jim on the old stone bridge at the end of the harbor and they shopped for a picnic, bread and wine, féta and olives, a round of dried figs and a few bananas, a small box of Greek sweets. They knew they were buying too much but bought it anyway: too much is good for a picnic, creates that feeling that comes from plenty. Benevolence. They were not counting on fish, though Yórgos had promised he’d catch some, so they could have it fresh.
    The boat was small but bright, a lipstick red with turquoise detailing. The captain greeted them dourly and started the engine as they stowed their groceries and day packs. The engine sparked to life in a small cloud of blue smoke and began its rhythmic thudding, the deep bass sound of an old inboard. Yórgos untied the boat and scurried to the prow to pull up the small anchor. The boat turned sharply toward the mouth of the harbor and the captain powered up the engine enough to raise a wake. From the water, the town loomed all around them.
    Yórgos and the captain looked out, where they were going, but Jim and Myles looked back.
    â€œGod this town is theatrical!” Jim exclaimed. “I still ain’t over it. It feels like we’re on stage, like the whole town is looking at us.”
    â€œThe town is, the people don’t notice,” Myles said, but he was fiddling with the Nikon on his lap, twisting on a wide-angle lens. “The houses with a view are oriented toward the water, look to us.” He glanced up, then lifted the camera and looked through the viewfinder.
    â€œSurely someone sees us?” Jim said, and he tried waving his hat, but no hat was waved in response.
    â€œWell, maybe, maybe not. But whether they’re looking or not, the real center of Sými town is out here, on the water. No matter where you are when you’re in town, you’re at the edge of things.”

    â€œEccentric?” Jim asked.
    â€œAnd aren’t we?” Myles said.
    â€œI think you more than me!”
    â€œAha. Well, okay, I won’t take offense. But maybe that’s why I like this place so much; everybody’s got to be eccentric, walk around the center of things.”
    â€œWatch it, Myles, you’re starting to sound like one of my kind, a regular explainer.”
    They passed the clock tower. Yórgos waved to a friend and shouted something. The water was glassy, an unstill mirror for the morning sky. The only breeze was the artificial breeze of the boat passing through quiet air, the only sound the low thud of the inboard.
    â€œFunny,” Myles said, “but seriously, life feels marginal here. You’re always looking out over water, away.”
    â€œSomething like the empty center in those Japanese brush paintings?”
    â€œMaybe, maybe that’s it,” Myles said, not sounding convinced.
    â€œOr in Auden’s poem about Brueghel’s Fall of Icarus , do you know it? He says even great events, the crucifixion for instance, happen, ‘Anyhow in a corner.’”
    â€œMaybe that’s part of it, too. Or maybe the houses just