Dimitris Part 2

That was the only way she mentioned my father—never with memories or recollections.
At least he was mentioned, which never happened with Thales, my brother.
I can’t deny that a part of me felt relieved about that. The memories were painful. It was more comfortable to keep them buried deep.
“I’ll try not to take too long,” I finally replied.
She nodded and turned her attention back to the computer.
“Close the door when you leave.”
The message was clear, and I didn’t wait for her to repeat it. I just left the office, closing the door as requested.
I went up to my room, intending only to take a shower and change clothes before heading out again. I had a class that evening, and it might be good, for a change, to attend. Especially since I was sober at the moment.
But as soon as I entered my room, my phone rang.
With another damn problem to solve.

***

September 7th.
Part 2.
“The scar is part of your body and your life story.”
Okay, Mr. Delinquent (or Forbidden Boy). The advice was literally noted with success.
Maybe at some point I’ll manage to put it into practice?
In the police station courtyard, I waited until Zoe was released. She came walking toward me with a bored expression on her face, as if it were just another day like any other.
Which, in fact, it was. It was common for my esteemed Free Bird colleagues to get into trouble like that. Some of them had families with as much money as mine and managed it on their own. Others, like Zoe, needed someone to come pay the bail or arrange a lawyer to get them out of jail.
And that someone was usually me.
“Why did it take so long?” she complained, stopping in front of me. “I thought I was going to have to spend the night here.”
“Actually, that’s what you deserved. Arson, Zoe? Seriously?”
“I’m the one asking, Dimitris: are you seriously going to lecture me?”
“You started a fire in a party house.”
“Not a full-blown fire. It was put out in time, unfortunately. My ex decided to throw a party last night and I wanted to ruin his fun.”
“You could have killed someone.”
She rolled her eyes, turning and starting to walk toward the parking lot. I followed her.
“What’s your problem, Dimitris? Have you become Mother Teresa of Calcutta now?”
“I only managed to pay the bail and get you out because no one was injured in the fire. If someone had died, not even my money would have kept you out of jail until the trial.”
“No one died. Yay! Let’s be happy about that!” she said sarcastically.
“Unbelievable, Zoe…”
“Since when did you become a bore, Dimitris? Come on, take me home. I want to sleep a bit before tonight’s competition.”
Of course... because on top of everything, she also thought I had to be her personal driver.
“No. I’m going to college. My class starts in half an hour.”

“Why not just skip it?”
“Maybe today I want to attend class.”
She stopped walking.
“Alright, Dimitris, what’s going on with you?”
“I intend to finish that damn degree sometime. And I need to attend classes to do that.”
“It’s not just the college. You’re lecturing me for doing something small…”
“You started a fire in a party house during an event with over a hundred people present.”
“Fuck it, no one even got hurt! And the other day, you publicly humiliated Heber. By the way, he’s still pissed at you.”
“In fact, he was trying to humiliate that girl.”
“A fucking refugee adopted by a lesbian couple. Is that the kind of person you humiliate a friend of ours for?”
I was far from being, as she put it, any kind of ‘Mother Teresa of Calcutta’. And although I abhorred that prejudiced rhetoric, I wasn’t the type to pick fights in defense of minorities. In fact, I wouldn’t stand up for anyone (except my sister, if she were ever the target). But I wouldn’t allow someone to say such things in my presence without showing how I thought it was, at the very least, a huge stupidity.
Still, I had never been filled with such rage as I was at that moment.
I faced Zoe and thought about how lucky she was to be a woman; otherwise, I might have punched her face for the words aimed at Aris.

“Just shut up, Zoe...” was all I managed to say before getting into the car. But I didn’t unlock the passenger door, which left her confused.
“I can’t believe you’re really not going to take me home,” she protested, banging on the car door.
“Call Heber. And next time you get arrested for doing something stupid, ask him to bail you out.”
“You know his parents are controlling with their money, they’re not like your mom.”
“He’s your friend. He’ll definitely find a way.”
With that, I started the car and drove away, still able to hear Zoe’s hysterical shouting as I left her behind.

***

I had to stop by home to drop off the car and pick up the motorcycle. And if I weren’t a complete reckless driver, I might have arrived late to class, but that didn’t happen.
It was noticeable how my classmates looked at me, as if I were a ticking time bomb. I usually sat at the back of the classroom, and most of the seats next to me remained empty.
Sometimes, a bolder girl would try to approach, but most of the time, people were too cautious to either definitely not want to get close to me or to choose to do so in the courtyard or outside the university walls, to avoid being judged by anyone.
Who could blame them?
When class ended, I left the room and, for a moment, thought it must be some kind of stalking that I was encountering that girl again. She had her back to me, which meant I could just leave, pretending not to have seen her there. But she was intently looking at a flyer pinned to the corridor wall, and that piqued my curiosity, prompting me to approach.
The paper was an announcement for a university dance competition.
“Did you sign up?” I asked, stopping almost beside her, just a step behind.
She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, turning her face towards me.
“Did I scare you?” I asked.
She relaxed, which was unusual with other people around me, at least at the university.
“Is sneaking up like that part of your delinquent package?” she joked.
“It’s my trademark.” I glanced quickly at the flyer again before looking back at Aris.
Then she answered my first question.

“No, I’m not signing up. I’m not a professional dancer.”
“Really? Because I remember being told that the place where you teach has qualified professionals. That’s why I enrolled my sister there.”
“I’m not a professional in that sense. I don’t deal with competitions and all that.”
I nodded in agreement and, realizing that the conversation was dragging on, turned to walk toward the building’s exit.
Aris was supposed to stay behind, but she walked beside me as if we were colleagues or something. Another unusual occurrence in this university environment.
“So, it’s true that you study here?” she asked. “I thought you were some kind of urban legend.”
“Why the surprise? I ran into you at the café in the courtyard a few days ago.”
“Maybe it was just for the coffee here, which is rumored to be good.”
“There are better ones around the city.” I paused, thinking I should end the conversation there, but before I realized it, I was asking another question. “Just out of curiosity, what are you studying?”
“International Relations.”
“That suits you.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Half Syrian, half Turkish, raised in Greece... A true mix of different cultures. The kind of person who would someday hold an important position at the UN or something similar.”
“You think so... And I haven’t even told you that my stepmother, my father’s wife, is Brazilian.”
I thought about how much this girl really was a box of surprises.
“And you, what are you studying?” she asked. “Just out of curiosity as well.”
“Business Administration.”
“I’m not sure if that suits you.”
“I’m currently a delinquent, but I might need to take over the family business someday, so... I figured this would be a course that might help.”
“It’s the same background as my father and one of my mothers. For the same reasons. The other is a doctor. And my stepmother, as I mentioned, is Brazilian. She was a Greek translator before coming here and opened a travel agency in Athens.”
Just one question and she decided to tell me her entire family’s professional background. If it were anyone else, I’d have let them talk on their own because I usually had little patience for long-winded conversations. But there was something about the way Aris spoke that held my attention. I felt I could spend whole days listening to her tell her life story.
Still, I didn’t let that show and quickly changed the subject:
“I need to head to the Arena. Do you want to come along?”
But what was I thinking?

“Well, she’s probably of legal age, mature enough to accept or decline invitations like that and have the discernment to make a choice. I thought it would be interesting if she said ‘yes’.”
She frowned, probably finding the invitation unusual.
“Arena would be... the place where you do the motorcycle performances?”
“Yeah. We’ve had a few accidents here and there, but overall, it’s safe. At least for the audience.”
“Not really my thing.”
“I see. The goody-two-shoes needs to be in bed before eleven, right?”
She became serious, and I noticed a slight tremor in her lips, making me feel a sudden regret for my words, especially when she responded:
“It seems like goody-two-shoes people annoy you, doesn’t it? But believe me, it’s more complicated than you might think.”
I didn’t find it complicated at all. She was, as I’d said, a goody-two-shoes, and there was nothing wrong with that. It was just a lifestyle very different from mine or anyone I associated with. But it wasn’t a reason for her to feel offended by the judgment.
Maybe I should have said that, but I opted for a different comment. As we passed another flyer about the university dance competition, I pointed to it and said:
“Extreme sports aren’t your thing. Maybe you should try what you actually like.”
“I don’t stand a chance.”
We walked through the building door, and from there, we’d go our separate ways, me to the parking lot and her to the pedestrian exit or the dorms. I stopped, turning to face her and touching her chin with my index finger. I leaned my face closer to hers in a challenge.
“Goody-two-shoes don’t annoy me, Aris. What I really find annoying are people who are afraid.”
I thought that might intimidate her, but she held my gaze.
“Everyone is afraid of something.”
“Not everyone.”
“You’re not? With what you do every day, you seriously don’t feel a momentary fear of death?”
“We’re all going to die someday, right?”
“That should be even more reason to value the life you have.”
“And here we are with you being a perfect UN peace ambassador. You’ve got politically correct speeches at the tip of your tongue.”
“And we’re back to the point that you get annoyed with ‘goody-two-shoes’ people.”
“Because, most of the time, they’re insufferably dull.”
“It’s easy to find excitement in challenging your life... when you have the privilege of not having it constantly at risk without making any effort for that.”
For a few moments, there was silence between us, with a tension in our exchange of glances that was so strong I could feel it vibrating on my skin.
But what was up with this girl? What did she think she knew about me to throw that whole bunch of moralizing lessons at me, as if they were straight out of a children’s book?

I thought about giving some response, but I simply couldn’t. The words seemed to vanish from my mind amidst the closeness between us. If I leaned in just a little more, I could kiss her. And I could bet she wanted it just as much as I did.
“Aris?” a female voice reached our ears, causing Aris to startle and turn around. I looked in the same direction, seeing a girl looking at us in confusion. She had curly hair tied up in a bun on top of her head, dark skin, and something about her seemed familiar. Then I remembered she was Aris's friend from the day I first saw her in the restaurant.
From the look she gave us, it was clear how perplexed she was to see Aris so close to me—the natural reaction everyone had to my presence. I took the opportunity to leave without saying another word.