Atlantis: Three Tales

Chapter V

V To construct oneself, to know oneself— are these two distinct acts or not? — Paul Valery, Eupalinos, or theArchitect A good number of people were on the platform when I got there. I had my guitar case —and a shopping bag. At the bottom of the bag was Heidi's Vian. Then my underwear and my balled-up suit. On the top were my novels. Two had actually been published while I was here — though I'd written them before. My wife had sent me a single copy of each, as they came out. I'd figured to reread the newest one on the train —for more typographical mistakes; or for stylistic changes I might want to make. And maybe reread the typescript of her poems. It was assunny as it had been on the Piraeus docks when I'd seen Heidi off to Aegina. Shabby-coated lottery vendors ambled about. Ticket streamers tentacled their sticks. A cart rolled by, selling milk-pudding and spinach pie and warm Orangata, big wheels grumbling and squeaking. Sailors and soldiers stood in groups, talking together, among the civilian passengers . When I saw him—the tall one—with four others in their whites, my heart thudded hard enough to hurt my throat. From the surprise, the back of myneck grew wet. I swallowed a few times—and tried to get my breath back. But—no!—I wasn't going to go up to the other end of the 203 SAMUEL R. DELANY platform. I wasn't going to let the son of a bitch run me all around the train station. I took a deep breath, turned, and looked toward the empty tracks. But I hoped the train would hurry up. Not that he could do anything here, with all these people. The third time I glanced at him, he was looking at me—smiling. He was smiling! Another surge of fear; but it wasn't as big as the terror at my initial recognition. Next time I caught him looking, I didn't look away. So he raised his hand—and waved: that little "go away" gesture that, in Greek, means "come over here." When I frowned, he broke from his group to lope toward me. He came up with a burst of Greek: "Kalimera sas! Ti kanis? Kalla?" (Hello, you! How you doing? All right?) "Kalimera," I said, dry as a phrase book. But with his big (nervous?Probably, but I didn't catch it then) smile, he rattled on. In front of me, the creaseless white of his uniform was as blinding as a tombstone at noon; he towered over me by a head and a half. Now, with a scowl, he explained:"...Dthen einephilos mou... Dthen eine kalos, topeidi..." He isn't a friend of mine... he's no good, that fellow ... Where're you going? It's beautiful today... Yes? ("Orea simera... Ne?"} You all right? He's crazy, that guy. He just gets everybodyin trouble . Me, I don't do things like that. I don't like him. I go out with him, I always get in trouble —like with you and your friend, up there, that night. That wasn't any good. You're taking the train today? Where're you going? You're Negro, aren't you? ("Mavros, esis?"} You like it here, in Greece? It's a beautiful country, isn't it? You had a good time? How long have you been here ? I didn't want to tell him where I was going; so I mimed ignorance at half his questions, wondering just what part he thought he'd played in the night before last. I was surprised, though, I wasn't scared anymore. At all. Or, really, even that angry. Suddenly, for a demonicjoke, I began to ask him lots of 204 C I T R E ET T R A N S questions, fast: What was his name? ("Petros, ego."Peter, that's me.) Where was he going? ("Sfo 'Saloniki."To Thessalonika.) Where was he from? (Some little mountain town I'd never heard of before.) Did he like the Navy? (With wavering hand, "Etsi-getsi."So-so.) He answered them all quite seriously, the grin gone and—I guess—a slightly bewildered look, hanging above me, in its place. Finally, though, he dropped a hand on my shoulder and bent to me. He'd come over to me, he...