The Cats of Rhodes

It was the first morning of our holiday in Greece, the isle of Rhodes to be exact. What I thought was a good idea at the time of booking travel arrangements at the agency, I now realized was a very stupid one. End of October, hardly any tourists in sight, streets almost deserted, little stores closed, it is neither the time nor the place for a holiday.

Vacation on Rhodes was to be the third wedding anniversary present for my wife Julia. We have met at a Halloween party, married exactly two years later on a Halloween, which was her favorite time of the year and after three years of struggling with the finances and the beginning of my livelihood as a paralegal we finally saw the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. My career was taking off, she was content in her job as a second grade teacher, we have just moved into a new and overpriced home, and the money did not seem to be an issue any longer. The only problem that I saw was how much we managed to distance ourselves from one another. There were no arguments, no accusations, nothing out of the ordinary. We simply grew cold towards each other and that coldness bothered me more than anything else.

I still loved Julia, very much so in fact. I was certain she felt the same about me, but very often I found myself lying in bed, wondering about how we were not intimate anymore, not in conversation or in a physical sense. Apart from a few hurried quickies, which were simply mindless fucks, we have not made true, meaningful love in over six months.

When I realized I could have time off in October and take her on a deserved holiday, I thought I would incorporate our anniversary and her love for traveling and present her with holiday in Greece. It turned out she was not too keen on it. Julia protested in any way she possibly could. She found a million reasons why we should not leave Chicago at all, let alone go to Rhodes. She had just started the school year, which was a good point.

But I was unyielding, not willing to change my mind. I had the tickets, the room booked, the itinerary of the places we could visit and things we could see. I kept pressing her and finally she gave in, reluctantly I have to admit, but she did give in.

We arrived on Rhodes late in the evening and after nearly twenty hours of travel, we were too tired to eat we simply fell into bed and slept.

I woke up in the morning and found myself alone. Julia's side of the bed was cold, a sign that she had been gone for a while. She always liked to investigate unknown places on her own and I was pleased that she seemed to be doing the best out of the situation into which she was almost forced.

I waited for her for a while, even picked up one of the two light novels that she had laid out on night table. My mind was not into the story, however, and after almost an hour, I got up and showered, having decided to catch the breakfast. It seemed Julia would not be back in time before the breakfast was over and I found myself starving.

As I was finishing my second cup of coffee, Julia walked into the small dining room on the first floor of a bed-and-breakfast house where we had rented the room. As was often the case, I was struck by how beautiful she looked. Tall and athletic, with long light brown hair and eyes to match, she would always catch the eye of men around her, although she never seemed to notice their looks.

When she walked into the room this morning, her face was positively shining with excitement. "Peter!" she exclaimed and almost ran towards the table where I had just finished my solitary breakfast. I smiled and pushed the chair away from the table in a gesture of invitation.

"You almost missed breakfast, Julia." I said and wondered if the landlady would be kind enough to bring some food for my foolish wife. The nine o'clock, which was the cut off time for breakfast was long gone.

"No, no..." Julia shook her head. "You've got to see something. Come on."

"You don't want any breakfast?"

Julia shook her head.

"Have some coffee at least."

She shook her head again. Like an impatient child, she stood by the table, waiting for me to hurriedly finish the coffee. "Come on, you've got to see this." She repeated and almost dragged me out of the house.

"Wait, wait!" I said laughing. This was more of an interaction between us than we have had in months. She was excited, obviously wanting to share that excitement with me. I was happy. "I didn't take my wallet." I said, trying to go back to the house.

"You won't need the money right now, Peter." She said impatiently and pulled me after her. I was confused over her enthusiasm, really. I have not seen her in such a state in a very long time. We hurried through the narrow streets of the City of Rhodes, our footsteps clonking against the cobbled pavement, slicked smooth by millions of feet that have left their mark there. Some small stores were open, rich tapestries and earth-colored pieces of clothing waving in the air like flags. Filigrees and numerous cafes were open for business, their owners sitting outside on small tripods, smoking and drinking coffee, occasionally glancing at the few passers by, indifferent whether anybody entered their business or not.

Greek women carried groceries in wicker baskets, children were playing in the streets and jumping off the alarmingly high stone fences. Men, old and young sat on the patios of outdoor cafes, the stools and tables mismatched yet fitting together. They sat there, drinking coffee and water, smoking, reading newspapers or playing backgammon. The life seemed so slow and tranquil, for a moment I was glad I was here.

To my great surprise, I saw handmade posters taped to the wooden lampposts and on bulletin boards, announcing Halloween costume parties, which were to be held on the thirty-first in different nightclubs. I supposed this was a consequence of a great number of Brits having made Rhodes their home. They brought their customs with them. Ruining the true flavor of Greece, yet making it a bit more familiar to people like me; more comfortable and less intimidating.

Then, as if sensing my contentment, Julia pulled me harder and almost forced me to hurry. "Come on!" she said. "Come on, Peter!"

Her excitement seemed to transfer to me and now I began anticipating what she was about to show me. I tried to think what had made her so excited, but my mind was blank. Somehow, I felt that her excitement would not be mine. I have had that proven to me many times over in the past five years. What she found beautiful and intriguing I would either find boring or downright appalling. Sometimes I wondered what excited her about the teaching job. She did not seem the person who would want something as normal as being a teacher, and yet, I respected her decision and she seemed to enjoy it, so I never pressed her to return to school and continue her education.

Suddenly I realized that there were many cats around. And I do mean many. There were two or three on every corner, one or two at every doorstep. Lying in the sun, soaking in its feeble warmth of the autumn morning. Some appeared to be strays, others as if they belonged to the houses on which steps they now rested. All colors and sizes, long haired, short haired, some beautiful, some grossly disfigured with missing eyes or ears, limping or dragging an obviously improperly healed leg, broken a long time ago.

I am not much of a guy for animals, but cats do freak me out. They seem sneaky, even treacherous. One thing that I put my foot down about when I married Julia was no cat. We settled for a dog, a beautiful golden retriever that she named Henry, but somehow I always felt that her heart was really not into owning a dog. Whenever we would go to a pet store to buy food or things for Henry, she would always end up in the cats-for-adoption room, her eyes sad, quietly talking to them, sometimes only her lips would move, but no sound would come out of her mouth. I always chose to ignore the fact that she truly loved cats. I could not understand that love.

Now, I was surprised to see that Julia paid absolutely no attention to all the cats in our vicinity. Normally, she would have been very quick to try and pet them, or talk to them. I was grateful for her failure to notice them, although, when I thought about it later, it was odd that she paid them no mind. It was hardly possible to miss the great number of felines in our path.

"Julia!" I said, alarm in my voice evident. She had been leading me through the narrow streets for some twenty minutes without giving me as much as a hint of where we were going. "I want to know where you're taking me, Julia!" I said but she did not reply. She squeezed my hand tighter and gave me a mischievous look.

Another few minutes passed with us hurrying past the restaurants, cafes, and beautiful buildings that I wanted to stop at and explore in detail when finally, she stopped so abruptly I almost ran into her.

"Here it is!" she said excitedly, grinning widely.

"Here's what?" I asked and looked around me. We were standing next to what appeared like a small island of greenery in the middle of a roundabout with an explosion of weeds and overgrown bushes hiding what was behind the ten-foot black fence.

"This!" she pointed straight to the unkempt oasis and at a second look, I noticed that above the tops of the thick trees I could see a small part of a narrow roof with a cross.

"What is this place?" I asked somewhat interested but more than that, truly alarmed.

"Come on!" she exclaimed and dragged me across the street towards the front gate of the place without even checking the traffic first. I followed reluctantly, almost like a child trying to resist being dragged to school. As we were approaching the large, wide-open front gate, the insides of what I thought of an oasis slowly came into view. The view, which literally gave me the creeps.

It was a cemetery, by the looks of it very old and neglected. The tall and narrow gravestones were scattered throughout the cemetery, which was about half the size of a football field. Some grave markers were leaning this way or that, all slicked smooth by the weather and old age, none of the writing visible, at least not from afar. Weeds and simple flowers surrounded the gravestones as well as trash, soda cans and pieces of greasy papers, obviously used as food wrappers. The most horrific thing to me was not the fact that this was a cemetery, although I could see the pull of it on Julia, for some crazy reason she found graveyards beautiful and would almost always visit one wherever we went. No, the fact that she was dragging me inside the place which was supposed to be the last resting place for the dead was not shocking at all.

It was those damned cats that spooked me almost into a scream. There were hundreds, no, thousands of them. Lying on top of gravestones, in the bushes, lazily rolling around in the uncut grass, licking the remnants of greasy leftovers from a newly discarded food wrappers. Cats everywhere. Thousands!

To Julia, it must have seemed like she was stepping into heaven, for me it was nothing but hell. I stopped and pulled my hand out of Julia's. "No!" I said firmly. "I won't go in there."

Julia turned to me, her face full of disappointment and disbelief. "It's an old Turkish cemetery, Peter. It's beautiful. Look!"

"No!" I said. I took a step back. "You know I hate cats." I could not decide whether she took me over here to piss me off or if she was really that ignorant over my repulsion to cats. Every single cat seemed to stare squarely at me. Some appeared almost bored with me, eyeing me without interest as if they only wanted to make sure I did not get too close. Others hung their heads on their chest, their eyes wide and careful, ready to pounce and I had a feeling that no matter what I did, they would attack me without mercy.

"But, Peter..." said Julia and extended her hand towards me. "Look..." her hand waved away from me and pointed over the cemetery. "Look, it's gorgeous. It's one of a kind."

I turned on my heels and crossed the street, almost running away from Julia and her twisted passion for death and cats. I heard Julia yelling something after me, but I did not listen, nor did I want to. I was angry. Furious, really. I cursed my decision to bring her to this place, I should have known better. I should have done some research, but I was so eager to escape Chicago, which I had blamed for our distancing from each other and trying to do a quick fix, I ran straight into something that I absolutely hated.

I walked the streets of Rhodes for what seemed like hours, completely lost and twice I realized I was on the edge of the town, without any idea of where I really was. I turned around and walked back, finally reaching the harbor and from there, with awkward but enthusiastic help of a few locals I found my way back to the bed-and-breakfast where we rented the room.

Julia was waiting for me, sitting threshold of the front door, just like I had seen cats do earlier in town. She appeared lost and frightened for some reason and yet, when I looked at her, her face was not her own. It was as if something had changed, only at the time I could not tell what it was.

As I approached Julia stood up and walked towards me. I half expected an avalanche of accusations or at least an argument, but instead, she hugged me and I could feel her body trembling against mine. "I'm so sorry, baby." She said in a small voice. "I didn't mean to upset you. I really didn't."

All my anger evaporated in one quick second. "No, Jules," I said softly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like I did. It was stupid. Childish, really."

Still holding her in my arms, I moved away from her a little and looked into her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, she had obviously been crying. "Childish I know." She said and we burst out laughing. "I was afraid you got lost." Her smile disappeared and the worried Julia took its place.

"I did get lost. More than once." This time I laughed on my own. "But I'm okay now. And so are you." I only just realized that never once did it cross my mind that something might have happened to her. She could have been struck by a car, Greeks are notorious for crazy driving. She might have fallen while walking through that crazy cemetery and hit her head and nobody would have known. The place was out of sight unless one walked straight inside and I did not notice anybody taking the chance of doing that, except for Julia.

Somehow, it seemed that this little incident had brought us closer together. We still did not get intimate, although god knows I tried, but Julia always rebuffed me in a gentle way, giving me the feeling that this particular night was not the right time, but the right time was coming soon, possibly tomorrow.

We took long strolls around Rhodes, always surrounded by cats and sometimes I had a feeling as if some of the felines were following us, or rather Julia, but I dismissed the notion with a smirk. We visited the museums and took a boat ride to the nearby island of Kos, the birthplace of Hypocrates. Everything seemed to be going fine. We were polite to each other if somewhat cold, but we were definitely communicating.

In the mornings I would always wake up to find the bed next to me empty and I guessed Julia was visiting the Turkish cemetery and possibly feeding the cats. I chose to ignore it, however, and never mentioned it to her, even though I am now certain she was aware that I knew where she was.

When we were not out and about, Julia spent almost every spare minute during the day sitting on the balcony of our room, offering her face to the sun. When we went out together, usually in the evenings for dinner or a drink, I could have sworn that cats were following us. Not in masses, but still, there were always three or four carefully trailing our steps, pausing when we stopped and continuing to walk after us as we moved on.

The most surprising thing was that Julia did not seem to notice any of it. Her passion for cats somehow seemed to vanish when I was around and she ignored them, but I knew that when she was on her own, she must have gone straight for the cats. The tell-tale signs of cats' hair on her clothes gave her away. I said nothing, however.

On the eve before Halloween, we have decided to spend the night in one of the nightclubs near our bed-and-breakfast. From what the landlord told us, it was a place always packed with tourists, barely any locals in sight. I thought that perhaps the change of scenery and blending in with the world we knew would help Julia snap out of her odd moods and behavior.

Sometimes, when she was in the bathroom I could have sworn I heard her purring like a cat, but I dismissed it as humming a song I did not know, or she had made up. I knew, absolutely knew what was going on, yet I chose to try and make myself believe otherwise.

* * *

Considering how very few tourists were to be seen during the day, I was surprised to see how packed the club was now with people. The cacophony of music and foreign tongues was maddening. Everyone seemed to be younger than me and if they were not, they at least acted like it. Slowly, the entire crowd seemed to become more and more drunk and bolder in their actions. People were bumping into me and pushing me around the bar as if I was invisible. Julia did not seem to mind any of it. She sat on the barstool, drinking and curiously observing the dancing, arguing, chatting and occasional necking of the people in the crowd. Unless rudely interrupted, I only had eyes for her.

She looked stunning that evening. It was absolutely illogical how a person could spend hours in front of a mirror, arranging hair and applying make up, trying on outfit after outfit, and the final result would be mediocre. Here was my wife, slightly tanned with no make up, her hair only finger-combed, wearing a pair of jeans a couple of sizes too big and a tight turtleneck and she looked breathtaking.

Occasionally she would close her eyes and gently sway in the rhythm of the music. I wanted to dance with her, but have decided against it. Most of the music played I did not recognize. It had a booming rhythm and occasional few, repetitive lines that beat into my brain. I found it bizarre, certainly not something I would want to experience often. I longed for a quiet bar where one could take their partner into the corner or on a dance floor and gently enjoy a slow song with bodies pressed against one another.

As I was shoved aside, I stepped behind Julia and placed my hands onto her shoulders. She did not move away as I was expecting she might do. She gently leaned back into me, and grateful for this little sign of affection I carefully pressed a kiss on top of her hair, taking in the fruity smell of her shampoo. We remained still for a while, only separating from time to time to reach for our drinks. It seemed that neither of us was willing to let go. We simply leaned on each other, but in my mind it might as well have been an act of desperate clinging to the little that had remained of our short marriage. I loved her that night more than I think I ever had before. I was happy but at the same time I felt devastated. There was a distinct feeling of something coming to an inevitable end and no matter what I said or did I could not have changed the outcome.

Julia carefully sipped the last of her drink and turned to me with an expression of 'I'm ready to go' that I had known so well. She was never the one to stay at the parties for a long time, which used to drive me crazy. I loved people, loved socializing and sometimes I resentfully felt like she was deliberately sabotaging my attempts at having good time. This particular night, however, I did not mind at all. I wanted to be alone with her, even though we really were alone. All the people around us were strangers who did not care about us and I most certainly did not care about any of them. But I wanted physical solitude. I longed to be alone with the woman I had loved and that love seemed to literally gnaw at me. I noticed my hands were trembling as if I was on the first date with someone who I knew all too well was out of my league. The feeling confused me, but at the same time I cherished it. It had been a while since I have felt like this.