Aris

9th of September.
This was certainly the first time someone accused me of being afraid. I had always been seen by everyone as the exact opposite: the strong and brave girl. The one who came close to death... twice. Once as a baby, being the only one in my family to survive a days-long crossing from Syria to the coast of Greece. The second time, at seven years old, when I spent months practically living in a hospital, undergoing surgeries until I got the transplant.
And in every relapse, when my new family was in a panic fearing I wouldn’t make it, I was always like a rock, reassuring everyone that everything would be fine and that I would be okay.
But the truth is that even in those moments, I was always terrified. And still today, my greatest fear is to see my parents in that state again. To witness all their crying and anguish. To make them feel the pain of losing me. My life might be just mine, but losing it would affect others.
And I kept wondering why Dimitris Makris didn’t see the same. He thought not fearing one’s own death was an act of courage. In my opinion, it was an act of selfishness.
“Can we talk now?”
After spending the entire previous day avoiding Lizzie, she now cornered me on a Saturday morning when I had no more excuses of classes to leave early from the dorm and only return at night.
In an attempt to dissuade her from doing that at that moment, I immediately went to the desk as soon as I woke up, turned on my laptop to study while exchanging messages with my mothers. But my friend didn’t seem to be intimidated by that and stood next to me with her arms crossed, practically demanding attention.
“Can it be later, Lizzie? I have an External Politics paper to work on, and soon I need to leave. You know I also teach dance on Saturdays.”
“You’ve been trying to avoid this conversation since the day before yesterday because you know exactly what I want to talk about, don’t you?”
“...Some new Turkish soap opera you want to watch with me?”
“Funny. You know I want to talk about Dimitris Makris.”
I closed the laptop, turning the chair to face her.
“That’s not what it looked like, Lizzie.”
“So you know exactly what it looked like.”
“Dimitris is the brother of one of my ballet students.”
Lizzie blinked a few times, proving she never would have imagined that.
“That guy has a sister?”
“Delinquents don’t hatch from eggs. They generally have families, as surprising as it may seem,” I said, quoting his own words when I showed the same astonishment as Lizzie.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re not family to him.”
“We have a... friendly... relationship.” I wasn’t sure if that was exactly the right word. After all, the forbidden guy loved to emphasize how overly correct, overly fearful, and overly well-behaved I was... in short, I was everything he surely didn’t seek in his friendships.
“Guys like Makris don’t want friendships with girls like us, Aris.”
“I don’t think he’s that bad.”
“Seriously, Aris?”

“Lizzie, you were with me that day, you saw how he defended me. And, I repeat, he’s the brother of one of my students. He’s the one who picks her up after class, so we end up running into each other frequently and exchanging a few words. And believe me, that’s all there is to it.”
“That’s all? Because... Let’s be honest, he’s a delinquent, but he’s also a gorgeous guy, like a nine out of ten.” And that was the highest rating Lizzie would give to any guy. According to her, the ‘ten out of ten’ belonged exclusively to her idol, Can Yaman. “So the only kind of interaction I can imagine between you two would be something focused on hooking up. Because what could a girl like you possibly have in common with a guy like him?”
“Several things. Maybe he’s more than just a delinquent, and I’m more than just a goody-goody.”
“Aris... Are you, by any chance, interested in him?”
“No, Lizzie. Of course not. Definitely not.”
My mom Alina used to say that whenever someone goes to great lengths to deny something, it usually means the real answer is very likely ‘yes.’ Fortunately for me, Lizzie didn’t have this perception, so she just seemed to accept my version.
“Alright. Just be careful, okay? I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I care about you. Makris is trouble. Big trouble. And I don’t want you getting hurt by getting too close to him. Both physically and emotionally.”
“Thanks for your concern, Lizzie. But I promise I’ll be careful.”
“Okay then.” She pointed to the laptop. “Do you really have to do that assignment? Can’t we watch an episode of a new soap opera before you leave?”
I smiled.
“We can. I just need to take a shower first because it’s too hot today.”
I stood up and went to the wardrobe, opening the door to get some clothes. Lizzie had an idea:
“How about we go to the beach tomorrow?”
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
“You came to Thessaloniki, which has amazing beaches, and you didn’t bring a bikini? We can go out and buy one today after you finish work.”
How could I explain to Lizzie why I wasn’t too fond of bikinis?
I thought that instead of talking, it might be better to show. I turned to face her, removing the turtleneck shirt I was wearing and leaving only a top on. Underneath, a large scar could be seen, starting just above my belly button and extending almost to my neck.
I noticed the look of surprise on her face upon seeing it. However, she tried to hide it and quickly made a humorous comment.

“Wow, Aris. I once hooked up with a girl, you know?”
Just to see if I liked it. It was kind of fun, but it proved to me that I’m definitely straight. Sorry, it’s not going to happen between us, no point in trying to seduce me.”
My sports top was definitely not at all sensual, nor was it what I actually wanted to show her.
“I wouldn’t try to seduce you that way, Lizzie. You’d see it eventually, so... go ahead, ask.”
“Okay. Sorry, I know this seems really intrusive, but since you’re pushing it, tell me... What happened? Was it an injury from fleeing your country?”
“No. It was years later. I had a transplant.”
“...Heart?”
“Yes.”
“So that’s why you’re so... selective with your food?”
I laughed.
“Until yesterday, you called me picky.”
“How was I supposed to know? I found it odd that you always wore such high-necked shirts, but... I didn’t know that was the reason.”
“Now you know.”
“But... Like... I don’t understand anything about this. Can you still teach dance? ...Oh my God, I took you for ice cream the other day!”
I laughed again.
“Yes, I can. Physical activity is highly recommended for transplant recipients, actually. As long as it’s moderate. And I can eat junk food occasionally, just not make a habit of it. I also need to have frequent check-ups because I have a higher chance of developing heart problems than others.”
“Much higher?”
“Considerably higher. Let’s just say I also have a higher chance of having a shorter life expectancy than average.” She widened her eyes, and I realized I had scared her with that, so I tried to reassure her. “But like I said, I have regular check-ups, and my health is currently great. Don’t worry, I’m not going to die tomorrow or in a week or a month, not even a year.”
“Okay. If that’s the case... is the problem the scar? Aris, you’re not going to skip wearing a swimsuit because of that.”
If it were just a short while ago, I might have retorted that I didn’t want people giving me pitying or horrified looks. However, now, I felt strangely motivated not to care about that kind of thing.
“Okay. We can go out today and buy something.”
Lizzie nodded enthusiastically, and I thought I might also take the opportunity to buy some new t-shirts.