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d she visited them one summer。 mary is the english wife of demetrios； and she was with a girlfriend on holiday in ándros when the handsome waiter in the café overlooking the sea fell in love with her。 he； too； has relatives in london。 now he is a waiter in a greek restaurant called the argonauts； and he intends to have his own restaurant soon。 he will call it dmitri’s； because dmitri is what mary calls him。 meanwhile they live in two rooms over the grocery owned by helen’s tom。
the two women spend mornings together； gossiping or shopping； but now helen has a baby and they often go to primrose hill and sit on a bench with the pram pushed into some shade。 there are other wives； greek and cypriot； and some mornings it is quite a little female munity； but helen and mary are recognized as special friends。 some evenings the two couples make a foursome in one of the pubs； cafés； or restaurants； and on these evenings mary often congratulates herself that she made all the right choices that brought her away from boring croydon； to be here among people who laugh easily； or start singing； and who might end an evening with impromptu dancing； even on the tables。 she might not have gone to greece that summer； might have said no to demetrios when her parents put pressure on。
on this day mary goes home excited and restless and sits in front of her looking glass and examines herself。 she often does this。 she is plump； pretty； with ruddy cheeks； black curls； and a lot of well…placed dimples； and dmitri calls her his little blackberry。 but she has gray eyes； and he says that if it weren’t for those cool english eyes he could believe she has greek blood。 his black eyes easily smolder； or burn； or reproach。 mary leans her forearms among the little bottles of scent； the lipsticks； the eye paint； and tries out expressions。 she puts a long unsmiling unblinking stare on her face and frightens herself with it。 she shuts her eyes； so as to see that stare on helen’s face； but fails； because helen only smiles。 mary admires helen。 that is putting it mildly。 because of something dmitri said； mary actually went to the library and found a book called “greek myths for children；” and there she read that a helen once； thousands of years ago； was a beauty； and men started a war because of her。 in greece parents called their little girls helen； as if the name were just betty or joan。 helen told mary that mary was the mother of god； but mary said she wasn’t really into religion。
and why should mary want to try out helen’s silent staring on demetrios？ that is the trouble。 mary is full of an unfortable dissatisfaction with life and with herself and this is like an accusation against her husband。 she does wonder why she feels like this but has decided that she is defending herself。 he is discontented because he wants to start a family； particularly now that he is seeing his friends tom and helen with their baby； but mary says； “no； dmitri； let’s wait a bit； what’s the hurry？” she really does mean to have a baby； and even soon； but she is afraid of being taken over。 that’s what happens； she thinks； watching the women she sees every day。 they have a baby and 。 。 。 well； i won’t be like that。 and helen isn’t； is she？ she is exactly the same； as if that baby had arrived from somewhere out of the air； and she had caught it like a present someone had thrown to her。 mary is on the pill and never forgets to take it。 dmitri says things like “one of these days i’ll throw all that junk into the rubbish。” his rough voice and hot eyes at such moments thrill mary and remind her of earlier days。
she said to helen； “is tom the same to you now？” helen instantly understood and said； with the laugh that was like an admission that she had some secret fascinating life mary was too much of a clod to understand； “of course； he’s english； isn’t he？ he’s just the same as when we started together。” and she examined mary in her frank way that mary at first thought was “tactless；” and said； “you don’t understand something。 greek men are romantic when they are courting。 they kiss you a lot and they make pliments。 but when you are married you are just his wife。”
the summer mary went to ándros； demetrios courted her with flowers and scented soaps and chocolates； and he said she was beautiful and he had never known anything like her。 he kissed her in the moonlight； and one night he even covered her hands with kisses and hot tears； too。 mary knew this was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her or probably would happen。 it made her uneasy that this was so。 what was demetrios； then？ who did he think he was—was her secret feeling。 and she watched him while he was asleep； thinking； but why？ but she often remembered； too； how he had been then； that summer； three years ago。 now he was as sensible as any englishman。 like tom； about whom helen sighed； though smiling； saying it was lucky tom liked his fun in bed； because otherwise she’d think he didn’t love her。
a likely story； thinks mary； who wonders why helen said yes to tom。 he was all right； not bad…looking。 “he makes me laugh；” says helen。 but surely she must sometimes find him boring？
but did dmitri still love mary？
that night； when he rolled toward her in bed； she said； “no； i don’t feel like it；” trying to make herself sound like helen when she was teasing and taunting； but she knew she had not succeeded。 she had never said no before： she liked her fun in bed； too。 he was as surprised as if she had said she wanted a divorce。 “what’s wrong with you？” he demanded。 what he should have asked was “but what have i done？” though she would not have known what to reply if he had。 she turned her back on him； knowing this hurt her as much as it did him： she could feel his baffled； hurt glare on her shoulders。 he muttered something she was glad she had not heard。 he lay awake and she did； too； but pretended to be asleep。
next morning he kept sighing and giving her hard accusing looks。 it happened that it was saturday； and that night the two couples went to drink in the garden of a pub； and then had dinner at the restaurant where dmitri was a waiter； but it was his night off。 the women sometimes worked there as waitresses when they needed a bit extra for the housekeeping。 everyone knew them； people waved or called greetings or came to admire the baby asleep in the pram。 mary saw how helen hung on tom’s arm and knew they were going to make love the minute they got home。 when demetrios and mary got home he said to her； “i hope you aren’t going to not feel like it tonight。” he was clumsy in his sarcasm； and that made it easy for her to say； “i might or i might not；” but in bed he at once attacked her； as she tried to plain to herself； but it was no good saying she didn’t feel like it when it was evident to both of them that she did。 “when are you going to give me a kid？” he said afterward； and he was doing something she always found frightening and exciting： he was sliding her wedding ring around and around her finger； as if he were thinking of throwing it away。 “i’ll see；” she said； knowing she had never provoked him like this before。 then she found herself being raped。 there was no other word for it。 she was all slippery from the recent sex； so he could not know she was thrilled and quite dissolved and could easily have said then and there； “yes； all right about the baby；” if he had not been groaning into her ear； “you bitch； i want a baby。 now； not in ten years。”
next morning she did not say one word at breakfast。 he didn’t notice。 he was taking his time with the toast and the jam and the coffee： he didn’t have to be at the restaurant until eleven。 this was the best part of their day； the hours before he went to work。 they talked or didn’t talk； and read the paper； and sometimes went back to bed。 she knew that when the baby came their mornings would never be like this again。 she had told him so； and he had said； “and so what。” this made her feel he didn’t love her。 it was not until the end of this breakfast that he realized her silence was meant； and he lifted his head and looked at her； long and hard； and she looked coldly back。 and then she went on with it