A Recipe for Daphne Nektaria Anastasiadou (the rosie project .TXT) 📖

“No customers on a Saturday?” Fanis asked.

“Welcome, Uncle,” said Ali. “It’s lunchtime. Give ’em fifteen minutes and my shop’ll be full again. Where have you been?”

“I was trying to let my hair grow so that it would cover the bald spot better, but it’s not working. I’m a mess, and I need you to fix things.”

Ali made a half-bow and stood aside so that Fanis could take a seat in the red faux-leather chair.

“By the way,” said Fanis, staring at the photos of Atatürk on the wall above the mirror, “I sent a young friend of mine here for a haircut. Tall fellow, Rum. Has he been in?”

Ali swung the polyester cape over Fanis’s head. “Stopped by this morning to make an appointment. Was supposed to be in half an hour ago for his cut.”

Perfect, thought Fanis. I’ll have a chance to find out exactly what’s going on with Daphne.

Bits of hair flew this way and that. Fanis, feeling more and more bald, closed his eyes. When Ali had finished, he opened and beheld the bishop sitting in the waiting chair. He was reading a copy of GQ magazine. “Your Eminence,” said Fanis, as Ali spread cream on his cheeks with a fine badger brush. “I didn’t know that you, too, were a fan of Gentlemen’s Quarterly. By the way, I love your shirt.”

“Hüsnü Mirza made it for me this week. You know, the tailor recommended by Kosmas. You should try him.”

Fanis did not respond because his straight-razor shave had already begun, and the slightest move could have resulted in a severed jugular. Finally, after an anointment with perfumed lotion, Fanis said to the bishop, “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see one of my own.”

“Although we are few, we are infinite,” said the bishop.

At that moment Kosmas came through the door, out of breath and yet looking strangely triumphant. “Elder,” he said, nodding to the bishop. “Mr. Fanis. Mr. Ali. Good afternoon.”

Kosmas sat down beside the bishop and began fanning himself with a newspaper. “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Ali. I was out until three a.m., and then I was a little distracted at the pâtisserie. You know how it is.”

Had Kosmas been out with Daphne? That, Fanis supposed, was inevitable. The important thing, however, was not whether they had seen each other, but whether things had gone well.

“Out drinking raki with the boys?” said Fanis, while Ali massaged his shoulders.

“No,” said Kosmas, with an uncontrollable smile. “I had a date with Daphne. I’m a little concerned about how it went. She’s different, you know, one of us but not entirely like us.”

“Yes, I did notice a certain something,” said the bishop. “But she’s a nice young lady, and nice-looking, and a teacher, which is a calling rather than a profession.”

“She has a boyfriend in America,” said Kosmas.

“So?” said the bishop.

“You don’t see the boyfriend as a problem, Elder?” said Kosmas.

“Of course it’s a problem,” said Fanis, as soon as Ali had finished trimming his nostril hairs. “You should be respectful of the other man and desist.”

The bishop turned toward Fanis and raised his bushy eyebrows. “And you would know all about that, Fanis, wouldn’t you?”

Fanis shot the bishop a playful smirk, then returned his attention to Kosmas. “Did you kiss her?”

Kosmas switched places with Fanis. “No. You told me not to. But something did happen.” Kosmas leaned his head into the sink. “I had some chocolates boxed up for her at the Saryan, and when I gave her the package, our fingers got mixed up in the ribbon.”

“And then?” said Fanis, sitting bolt upright in the waiting chair.

“That’s it. But that finger mix-up was almost as sensual as a kiss, like our hands were making love. I’m pretty sure she felt it too.”

“It’s best not to jump to conclusions,” said Fanis, slouching back into his chair. He needed to disguise both his jealousy and his excitation with a relaxed stance. “Otherwise you get carried away and make hasty moves.”

“I’m glad we’re onto this subject,” said the bishop. “It’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for some time, Kosmas. Ever since I was ordained, my absolute favorite thing has been the first presentation of an infant when it is forty days old. I take the baby in my arms and carry it to the front of the church. Most of the time it keeps its eyes on me, except for the moment when I pass beneath the dome. Absolutely every baby I’ve ever presented shifts its gaze to Christ at that moment, as if it knows it is meeting its maker.”

“Thank you for sharing that, Elder,” said Kosmas. “But I don’t understand what it has to do with me.”

“You haven’t had children yet. You haven’t married. I’d like to present your children before I die.”

“I’m working on it,” said Kosmas.

“He’s not the only one who might have children,” Fanis muttered. He stood, put Ali’s money on the cashier counter, and made a move for the bishop’s hand.

The bishop slapped his wrist and said, “See you tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately not. I’m going on a little outing to Antigone. But I’ve arranged a substitute.”

“So you’re coming, too?” said Kosmas, while Ali trimmed his wet hair.

“Excuse me?” said Fanis.

“Daphne invited me last night. But she didn’t say anything about you.”

Just fabulous, thought Fanis. But perhaps it’s for the best. Let Daphne see how we compare.

“How nice,” he said. “Oh, and Kosmaki, one last bit of advice. It’s my ultra-secret weapon. I’ve never told anyone, but because I see you as a son, I’m going to share it. You know how I told you not to kiss a woman on the first date? That’s only part of it. You really shouldn’t kiss her for at least—and I mean at least—ten dates. That way, sometime after ten, she’ll be so hungry she’ll tear your clothes off. You won’t have to make the smallest effort to get her into bed.”

That is, Fanis said to himself, if