With eyes wide-open Penelope stared at the ceiling and prayed sleep would come, along with the dream and the white-clad man―the angel. Still unable to sleep forty-five minutes later, she got up and quietly paced the room, not wanting to wake her daughter Eleni. She decided to go back to St. George's now, not in the morning as she had planned earlier. Penelope sat down by the small table and impetuously wrote a note to Eleni.
The desk clerks tried to dissuade her, telling her it was not safe to be out at this hour, but Penelope wouldn't listen. "Get me a taxi," she said determinedly. One of the night clerks again cautioned her to be careful as he opened the door of the waiting taxi, which had clearly seen better days. "Good morning," Penelope said in her limited English.
"Kalimera," responded the driver. He looked in his rearview mirror with his large dark eyes and asked, "Where are we going ma'am?"
"Thank you! To St. George's," she answered.
"Quite a ways from here. It must be very important."
"Yes, it is," replied Penelope. "You are Greek, aren't you?" she asked, noticing the driver's black wavy hair and his olive skin.
"Yes, second generation." He lit a cigarette. "My parents left for America after it became impossible for them to do business here. They lost everything," he said with a deep sigh, while continuing to hold his cigarette on the side of his full lips.
Memories of her own expatriation from Smyrna came to the old woman's mind. "I know the feeling." She let out a deep sigh. "How come you didn't leave Egypt?"
"Good question. This is my country. I love it here. True Egyptians are good people. I wish I could say the same for their politicians. We were a well-to-do community, but we lost everything."
"Don't feel bad, my son, I lost everything too, my country, my home, my husband, everything. The Turks took it all."
"I am sorry that happened to you
Mrs. ..."
"Theophilos, Penelope Theophilos," she said, looking out the taxi window at the deserted streets, full of trash in overstuffed cans. Startled by the headlights of the taxi, cats scattered all over the street, their eyes shining brightly before they disappeared into the dark alleys. Suddenly conscious of the oppressive heat, Penelope fanned herself distractedly.
***
After the bus left the night before from St.
George's, Theodoros felt restless. To Father
Agathangelo's surprise, that evening Theodoros was more talkative than ever before, but he did not want to eat dinner or drink anything,
withdrawing to the little cottage by the corner of the sanctuary. He only said, "Good night,